Thanks to @chicohwang for doing all these wonderful edits!

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Never in my life have I ever regretted so soon after saying something. But it’s too late for regrets. My favourite blue plaid shirt has been torn to shreds and my body, tossed onto the bed like a sack of bones. The princess vampire responsible for the devastation of my beloved shirt is leaning over me with pink eyes so pink that I’m getting a headache from looking into them. This is not how I wanted it to be. This is not the way I had imagined it to happen.

“Wait. Please, wait,” I cry out as she dips her head to my neck.

“What now.” Her eyes are gleaming with varying shades of pink now and it’s somewhere between absolutely terrifying and sensually mesmerizing.

“Can you go a little slower?”

“I don’t like it slow.”

“But it’s my first time. I want it to be romantic. Please?”

Ms Pink closes her eyes and hangs her head, muttering under her breath.

“Please? Ms Pink?” I plead.

“Fine.”

I blink, not quite believing that Ms Pink would let me get my way this easily, as she leaps off my bed and opens the window. Light spills into the room and I squint as my eyes readjust.

“Stay right there,” she instructs and I nod to promise. Then she’s gone, out the window, to who-knows-where for who-knows-what-reason. But I stay where I am and as I wait, a little spark of curiosity ignites the tip of the wick inside me. I feel warm, even though the wind blowing into the room is cool. The little clock on my bedside table blinks 2:27. Man, I’d always thought my first time would happen in the night time, when all is dark and quiet, and this side of the world is sleeping. My lover would kiss me with tender loving care and show me how much she loves me. She would touch me everywhere and set me on fire. Then our clothes would come off . . .

The window slams shut and the curtains are drawn, shutting out most of the light once again. Holy . Ms Pink is back and she’s carrying a bulky black bag. What’s in it?

“You are not only a stupid human but a troublesome human too,” she says as she takes a box from the bag. It’s a rectangular box and out from it come ten charcoal black candles in the shape of a skull.

“What are the candles for?” I ask. Are we going to do some kind of spooky ritual that involves dancing around the candles or something? I sincerely hope not.

“You begged for romance, didn’t you.”

“I did, but—”

“Humans love candles.”

“But they’re skulls.”

“What’s wrong with skulls.”

“Skulls aren’t romantic.”

Ms Pink looms over me an expression that reminds me of my terrifying elementary school discipline mistress. “A spanking will remind you of your place.”

“I’m sorry, Ms Pink.”

She glares at me for a moment longer, then picks up a black skull candle and transfers her glare to it. Barely a second later, a flame dances atop the candle. No . Ms Pink is actually capable of setting things on fire with just a look? She sets the candle down on my bedside table and picks up another. Same thing. It lights with a mere look from her. Oh my God. What is Ms Pink. What kind of a vampire is she to have power like that. Or is this power bestowed upon all princess vampires? In no time at all, there are ten burning skull candles around my room. On my bedside table, book shelf, desk, dresser . . .

Ms Pink turns to me and spreads her arms to present the candle lit room. “Romance,” she says.

Now, I may not have been in a relationship before, and neither have I really been in love yet but even a girl like me knows that ten black skull candles do not equate to romance—despite the fact that I actually kind of have a thing for skulls.

“Ms Pink, if I could be honest with you, it feels more like Halloween than romance with these skull candles surrounding me.”

“These candles are meant for Halloween.”

“Oh.”

“They are the most romantic things I have within my possession right now. Make do with them.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Ms Pink freezes me with her steel glare. “Who are you saying thanks to?”

“Thank you, Ms Pink.”

“Good girl.”

Her praise puts a smile on my face but it fades when she shrugs off her black leather jacket. Oh dear Lord, help us all. Sheer, sheer, sheer. Inside the leather jacket is a sheer chiffon blouse. Inside the sheer chiffon blouse is a solid black bra. Inside the solid black bra . . .

At this point in time, I am reminded of the time when Ms Pink stripped down to her lingerie to give me a bath. But back then, I was more concerned about revealing my body to Ms Pink than the amount of skin she was showing. Not that I didn’t notice it. Of course I did. But this. This situation is different. Ms Pink just told me to have with her. And we’re surrounded by semi-romantic, creepy black skull candles that are originally meant for Halloween. I cannot wrap my mind around it. How is any of this real? Is this actually a dream? Did I fall asleep in one of those dreary lectures?

The chiffon blouse comes off and suddenly there isn’t enough oxygen in the room. I gasp for breath but it isn’t enough. “Stop. Stop, please.”

“What now.”

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