Capital Punishment Essay: Incidental Issues :: Argumentative Persuasive Topics

Incidental Issues and Capital Punishment      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  This essay gives consideration to some of the incidental issues in the death penalty debate: cost, relative suffering, brutalization, and others.    Many nondecisive issues are associated with capital punishment. Some believe that the monetary cost of appealing a capital sentence is excessive (1). Yet most comparisons of the cost of life imprisonment with the cost of life imprisonment with the cost of execution, apart from their dubious relevance, are flawed at least by the implied assumption that life prisoners will generate no judicial costs during their imprisonment. At any rate, the actual monetary costs are trumped by the importance of doing justice.    Others insist that a person sentenced to death suffers more than his victim suffered, and that this (excess) suffering is undue according to the lex talionis (rule of retaliation) (2). We cannot know whether the murderer on death row suffers more than his victim suffered; however, unlike the murderer, the victim deserved none of the suffering inflicted. Further, the limitations of the lex talionis were meant to restrain private vengeance, not the social retribution that has taken its place. Punishment-- regardless of the motivation-- is not intended to revenge, offset, or compensate for the victim's suffering, or to measured by it. Punishment is to vindicate the law and the social order undermined by the crime. This is why a kidnapper's penal confinement is not limited to the period for which he imprisoned his victim; nor is a burglar's confinement meant merely to offset the suffering or the harm he caused his victim; nor is it meant only to offset the advantage he gained (3).    Another argument heard at least since Beccaria (4) is that, by killing a murderer, we encourage, endorse, or legitimize unlawful killing. Yet, although all punishments are meant to be unpleasant, it is seldom argued that they legitimize the unlawful imposition of identical unpleasantness. Imprisonment is not thought to legitimize kidnapping; neither are fines thought to legitimize robbery. The difference between murder and execution, or between kidnapping and imprisonment, is that the first is unlawful and undeserved, the second a lawful and deserved punishment for an unlawful act. The physical similarities of the punishment to the crime are irrelevant. The relevant difference is not physical, but social (5).    We threaten punishments in order to deter crime. We impose them not only to make the threats credible but also as retribution (justice) for the crimes that were not deterred.

A Consumers Buying Behaviour Essay examples -- Consumer Business Mark

A Consumer's Buying Behavior A consumer's buyer behavior is influenced by four major factors; cultural, social, personal, and psychological factors. These factors cause consumers to develop product and brand preferences. Although many of these factors cannot be directly controlled by marketers, understanding of their impact is essential as marketing mix strategies can be developed to appeal to the preferences of the target market. When purchasing any product, a consumer goes through a decision process. This process consists of up to five stages; problem recognition, information search, evaluation of alternatives, purchase decision and post purchase behavior. The length of this decision process will vary, ranging from a shorter routine response behavior, to limited problem solving and a more comprehensive extensive problem solving. A consumer may not act in isolation in the purchase, but rather may be influenced by any of several people in various roles. The number of people involved in the buying decision increases with the level of involvement and complexity of the buying decision behavior. Consumers buyer behavior and the resulting purchase decision is strongly influenced by cultural, social, personal and psychological characteristics. An understanding of the influence of these factors is essential for marketers in order to develop suitable marketing mixes to appeal to the target customer. CULTURAL factors include a consumers culture, subculture and social c...

Other Minds? :: Philosophy Philosophical Essays

Other Minds? Bertrand Russell expressed his belief on knowing other minds, in an article based primarily around the notion of ‘analogy’, meaning similar to or likeness of. His belief is that, "We are convinced that other people have thoughts and feelings that are qualitatively fairly similar to our own. We are not content to think that we know only the space-time structure of our friends’ minds, or their capacity for initiating causal chains that end in sensations of our own" (Russell 89). Russell speaks of the inner awareness, such as being able to observe the occurrences of such things as remembering, feeling pleasure and feeling pain from within our own minds’. This would then allow us to presume that other beings that have these abilities would then be that of having minds. The term ‘analogy’ is very vague in nature, but when used in this context, we assume that the behavior of other people is in many ways analogous in reference to causes. These causes being behavior directed from sensation or thought. It is apparent and observable that people or beings other then I behave in ways in which we behave when placed in different situations. For example sadness or the nature of anger or happiness can be seen in others. Others then can and do react to different causes similar to the way in which I do as well. Another consideration is that of shared experience. Russell uses the example of two friends having a conversation in which memoirs are explored. These two individuals have shared experiences together. They eventually discover that each other’s memories aid each other in recalling information forgotten with time. (Russell 89) It can factually be said that beings in which can think, therefore have a mind, thus have causes for behavior. "As it is clear to me that the causal laws governing my behavior have to do with ‘thoughts’, it is natural to infer that the same is true of the analogous behavior of my friends" (Russell 89). Thus the aspect of inference is now the main concern when relating to analogy. Can we infer that other beings have thoughts and feelings to result such causes, as that in which is observable? Russell explains this notion with the example of mother and her thoughts. "We find ourselves believing in them when we first begin to reflect; the thought that Mother may be angry or pleased is one which rises in early infancy" (Russell 90).

Analysis of “The Story of an Hour” by Kate Chopin Essay

The short story â€Å"The Story of an Hour† was written by Kate Chopin and first appeared in 1984. It tells about the ‘one hour’ brief story of the main protagonist, Louise Mallard, and her reaction upon hearing the news of her husband’s death by a car accident. And because she had a heart problem, her sister Josephine and her husband’s friend Richards decided to break to her the news as gently as possible. Not long after the supposedly bad news was revealed, Brently, Louise’s husband, suddenly comes home alive disproving the former, causing death to her by heart attack. Majority of the story’s progression revolve around Louise’s reaction upon hearing the news about her husband’s death (Brian, 2001). The scenes where Louise isolate herself in her room and savor her new-found freedom add up to the hanging idea of the real reason behind her death. It seems that the author actually give two possible emotional state to answer the underlying question of Louise’s joyful death: one is that she has become too overwhelmed to see her husband alive in contrary to the news about his involvement in a recent car accident and the other one is that she is saddened by the realization of the freedom that she thought she will have after hearing her husband’s loss is completely taken away from her again. Contrasting Representations Suprisingly, the short-story is written in complete contrasts of the main theme. First of these contrasting representations within the story is Louise’s reaction upon hearing the news. The news about her husband’s death should bring her agony and tears but instead; she sits calmly â€Å"facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. † Here we see a strange approach to the situation with the word â€Å"comfortable† being used to modify the chair near the window. Louise, a new widow herself, must not see the chair as â€Å"comfortable† as it seems just right after hearing the unbearable news of her husband’s death. Added to this, the scene outside the window also symbolizes something in contrast to the story’s progression. The spring day from the view outside her window shows a contrasting image to the situation she has. The spring is a symbol of â€Å"rebirth† or â€Å"new life† thus the spring prognosticates Louise’s new life after Brently’s death. Another interesting symbol in the story is the description of the view laid upon Louise’s eyes as she sits near the window: â€Å"The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves† (Brian, 2001). For the readers, the description made by Louise about the view she was seeing clouds what her true emotions were at that moment. It seemed that as she isolated herself in a room, she completely disregarded the news of her husband’s death. These representations had become tricky in contrasting the main theme the story supposes to have or tell. Kate Chopin’s idea of a Joyful Death: Appearance versus Conflict What the readers may discover in reading this story is the possibility that there is an ironic truth behind the death of the main protagonist’s beloved. In the main setting of the story where Louis sits in a comfortable chair, she mouth over the words we never expect to read or hear from her. She seems to be happy rather than being sad about Brently’s loss with what the story emphasizes on her shouting â€Å"free, free, free! † The freedom she pertains here signifies of her having the will to live a life all by herself, after her husband is gone. As she plays a youthful characteristic of a woman, it is a well played proof that she was indeed after the freedom, of doing what she want to do and make decisions for herself. With this fact, the story seems to have a conflict of its own: conflict between the ideas of appearance and reality. From the moment that the story emphasizes about Louise having her â€Å"freedom† at last, it could suggest the notion to the reader(s) that she is not saddened by the news. Unlike what she had shown in the central point of the story, Louise somehow is expected to grieve by the people around her, all having the idea that her marriage with Brently was a happy one. This is what her sister Josephine completely understood with her reaction as she misinterprets Louise’s behavior and thinking. She hysterically calls out her sister in the room, believing that Louise is heart-broken but in reality, Louise is more lightened up by the news. The doctors’ judgment about Louise’s death also deals with this conflict. For them, it seemed that Louise died after realizing that her husband is alive. This appearance of Louise’s happiness is more illustrated when they predicted that due to heart attack â€Å"of joy that kills† (Brians, 2001). Never did they think of the reality that she died because of another reason. That she dies because she was heart-broken to recognize the truth that she will not be able to gain her freedom as what she expected earlier. Role of Woman versus Man Another conflict in the story accentuates the role of woman versus man in the society. It is illustrated in the story that Louise is a submissive wife to Brently. But there is an internal struggle within her that tells that she was not happily married at all. As what Louise thinks, â€Å"What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being† justifies more to the idea that she, indeed, had loved Brently but more were the times she feel not. Maybe for Brently, Louise appeared to be happy with their relationship or he thinks and assumes that she is. Apparently, Louise wanted more the freedom she had felt for in that short while. After finding out the truth that she was not yet totally free, she had thought that only by death that she would took possession of it at last. There in death she would find peace and liberty. Ironically, Louise took the realization that her husband was alive and chose to die in able to attain the freedom she longed for. Character Analysis Chopin made her characters compliment along with the theme of the story. The main character, Louise plays a youthful wife who tends to have her freedom despite her marriage with Brently. Her youth marked up the end of her life and this irony of life, of choosing liberty by death, seemed to be one of the uncertain situations in the matter of choosing life over death. Brently, although his character is not discussed further on in the story, seemed to be playing a role of a husband who wants her wife under his control. Louise would never want liberation if he was a good man to her. His characteristic gives a deeper impact in the story, making Louise choose to die with freedom rather than living with him in a life full of despair. Josephine, Louise’s sister, was recognized here as a doting sister who takes care of her and all the matters that has a connection with her. Josephine, together with Richards, had taken care of gently telling to her the â€Å"death† of her husband Brently. She half-concealed the truth, in order for Louise to accept it without suffering her heart problem. Richards, Louise’s friend, is the one who brought the news to the house, he is responsible for assuring Brently’s death. As he rushes to tell the news to his friend, there is a suggestive truth that he was worried about what his friend’s reaction would be after hearing the news. If he had not rushed over to deliver the news, there is a possibility that Brently could arrive first in the house and justify that his name in the news is a big mistake, preventing Louise’s death and would have lived more. Apart from Brently, Richards is also responsible for the protagonist’s death. The story gives us the impression that not every death could bring grief to someone. It could be, in another way, a joyful event. Chopin had also brought about the issues of women and their role in the society. The story, written in the nineteenth-century, showed how women years back had no rights to be at their own will. Women then were still under the prying eyes of the society and men dominate over them. Chopin tackles a lot of moral issue within the story. Her story suggests that it would still be better if women of her own time maintain their roles in the society. In the nineteenth-century, men are expected to be superior over women and not the other way around, not what Louise wanted to be. Her insights within the story inspires us with the vision of what harmonious relationships are ought to be and the wide complexity in bearing the contrasting truth between appearance and reality. References: Brians, Paul. et al. Reading about the World. (Vol. 2) 3rd Edition. Texas: Harcourt Brace College, 2001.

PacSun Store Analysis Essay

Customer ProfileThe current customer of the Junior girls department of the PacSun are young women who are driven by surfing, skateboarding, snowboarding, and other associated actives and lifestyle. The typical customer wardrobe is consists of everyday casual apparel that is versatile enough for excessive movement and wear. Customer Demographics:†¢Female†¢14-18 yrs old†¢middle class†¢ high school education†¢have average 2 siblings†¢parents both work, have college degrees†¢outdoor active lifestyle†¢interest in surf, skateboarding, and/or snowboarding†¢personality is free spirited, spontaneous, social, and sport orientedIn regards to the statistics of the buyer profile compared to the actual product consumer profile is influenced by outside factors. An average of 45% of the customers where young girls with a female parental that purchased items, 35% of the customers were young women in groups of 2 or more, while 15% of those groups all purchased individual items. There was an average of 15% of customers who where young women by themselves, 2% of the remaining profile were parents (mainly women) who where purchasing for someone else, then another 2% where male parental’s purchasing for someone else, and the last 1% was young women with a mate. Within the department’s customer profile, there is an average of 65% of girls that were sizes 3-7 and/or S/M; and the remaining 35% where either above or below the average size range. Department AnalysisI. Department Environment-The environment of the department is very energetic and free spirited. All the employee’s were friendly and conservative toward each customer. It was about four o’clock p.m. when I visited the PacSun location. There were an estimated eight female customers in this department. The sales associates working the floor were eager to help each customer with there individual needs. When entering the store it takes an average of three seconds before being welcomed to the store. II. Merchandise Appearance-The merchandise in this department was all put in  it’s designated section. The merchandise on the floor racks was organized by related items and style preference. The items on the walls were grouped in sections of tops, pants, and jackets that looked best with each other. The clearance section was clean and organized by sizes, and all the merchandise was in the correct size section. The displays were organized with coinciding outfits, a few pairs of jeans and tee-shirts, folded next to each other with a couple bags/ backpacks; the display flows well with the product layout in the department. III. Merchandise Classification-The Classifying of the products was very versatile with the other products. All of the merchandise stock is focused on surf and skate brands of clothing. The majority of the stock is in tee-shirts, sweatshirts, and jeans. This department classification of products is focused more on large assortment of merchandise within a small variety of classifications. This merchandise scheme works well with this store because it allows each customer to personalize the individual items in to outfits of their own style preference. Data SummaryI. Compare and contrast: After reviewing the primary and secondary data, to get a better understanding of the PacSuntarget market and realistic profitability goals, it seem to be within a match able range of the comparison of experiencing the same demographics. In the field study conducted there seems to be a low amount of consumers shopping, but when added to an average amount of customers per day it is appropriate. At this particular location farther inland from the coast, the store has more foot traffic because of the decrease of competition in other surf/skate store near the coast. The income data compared to the guesstimate of income, based on purchasing amounts spent, does not match up. It seems that people were spending more money then bring in. When looking over the work force statistics, it seems that more parents are working and allow children to buy more products for the missed time together, allowing for huge indulges in money spent shopping. I feel that the customer is a teenager with working parents and most shop is done on own. The customer is give fixed amounts to spend and pre-though  periods through out the year. The consumer is likely to be working a small part-time job and spends paycheck on personal wants and entertainment. The loyal PacSun customers like to create their own activities related style through items at the store. There clothing chooses are selected more through durability and versatility, then innovative trends. The customer is entertainment seeking and dedicate. It is more like that the customers of PacSun are returning customers then new ones, once image is established by consumer, they tend to continue on the same path. II. Modification MixAs a buyer for PacSun it would be advisable to really study the store surroundings because even though the seasons are changing, it is likely that customers will purchase tank tops andshort-sleeve shirts year round. The need for jackets is usually slim, but a wide range of sweatshirt and sweaters is a necessity because the San Diego area does get windy during the end of the year. Being a buyer for specific classification of customers is defiantly easier when in a usually predicable climate, like San Diego. Knowing the trendy colors for each season is more necessary then knowing the trendy cut shirt cuts, because the PacSun consumer wants to be able to wear the item for season after season, not just for a few months. The most important thing to remember, as a buyer, is to buy the products for the customer not the corporation. Meaning to always fulfill the customers needs before selling products for corporate popularity and profitability. If logical, I would widen the size range of the clothing to open up the target market to teenagers in the plus size range. This will increase the foot traffic in the store. Other then the sizing, the store have the right products and styles in it that lives up to the PacSun reputation. If it were possible to reach a different customer segmentation, while maintaining the current the merchandise is stores, it would have to be to add another section for Pre-teenagers, ages 10 to 14 years old, there are many younger customers that are already set in there type of clothing classification of style related to there activities, like surfing and skate boarding. This would consist of extending the sizes and styles to Boy and Girl sizes and styles, but using the same consistency of brands. This would create a whole new foot traffic and profitability for PacSun stores. Bibliography –www.pacsun.com, copyright 2007-www.hoovers.com, copyright 2007-onsight analysis. date January 23, 2007

Break Free Product Life Cycle

Most firms build their marketing strategies around the concept of the product life cycle–the idea that after introduction, products inevitably follow a course of growth, maturity, and decline. It doesn't have to be that way, says Harvard Business School marketing professor Youngme Moon. By positioning their products in unexpected ways, companies can change how customers mentally categorize them. In doing so, they can shift products lodged in the maturity phase back–and catapult new products forward–into the growth phase. The author describes three positioning strategies that marketers use to shift consumers' thinking. Reverse positioning strips away â€Å"sacred† product attributes while adding new ones (JetBlue, for example, withheld the expected first-class seating and in-flight meals on its planes while offering surprising perks like leather seats and extra legroom). Breakaway positioning associates the product with a radically different category (Swatch chose not to associate itself with fine jewelry and instead entered the fashion accessory category). And stealth positioning acclimates leery consumers to a new offering by cloaking the product's true nature (Sony positioned its less-than-perfect household robot as a quirky pet). Clayton Christensen described how new, simple technologies can upend a market. In an analogous way, these positioning strategies can exploit the vulnerability of established categories to new positioning. A company can use these techniques to go on the offensive and transform a category by demolishing its traditional boundaries. Companies that disrupt a category through positioning create a lucrative place to ply their wares–and can leave category incumbents scrambling.

Stefan’s Diaries: Bloodlust Chapter 8~9

Chapter 8 October 4, 1864 As a human, I'd thought it was my mother's death that had shaped the men Damon and I would become. I'd called myself a half-orphan in the initial days after she died, locking myself away in my room, feeling as though my life had ended at the young age of ten. Father believed grieving was weak and unmanly, so Damon had been the one to comfort me. He'd go riding with me, let me join the older boys in their games, and beat up the Giffin brothers when they made fun of me for crying about Mother during a baseball game. Damon had always been the strong one, my protector. But I was wrong. It is my own death that has shaped me. Now the tables have turned. I am the strong one, and I have been trying to be Damon's protector. But while I have always been grateful to Damon, he despises me and blames me for what he has become. I had forced him to feed from Alice, a bartender at the local tavern, which had completed his transformation. But does that make me a villain? I think not, especially as the act had saved his life. Finally, I see Damon the way Father had seen him: too imperious, too willful, too quick to make up his mind, and too slow to change it. And as I had also realized earlier this evening as I stood just outside the dim glare of the gas lamp, the body of the dead nurse at my feet: I am alone. A full orphan. Just as Katherine had presented herself when she came to Mystic Falls and stayed in our guesthouse. So that's how vampires do it, then. They exploit vulnerability, get humans to trust them, and then, when all the emotions are firmly in place, they attack. So that is what I will do. I know not how or who my next victim will be, but I know, more than ever, that the only person I can look out for and protect is myself. Damon is on his own, and so am I. I heard Damon steal through the city, moving at vampire speed down the streets and alleys. At one point, he paused, whispering Katherines name over and over again, like a mantra or a prayer. Then, nothing Was he dead? Had he drowned himself? Or was he simply too far away for me to hear him? Either way, the result was the same. I was alone–Id lost my only connection to the man Id once been: Stefan Salvatore, the dutiful son, the lover of poetry, the man who stood up for what was right. I wondered if that meant that Stefan Salvatore, with no one to remember him, was really, truly dead, leaving me to be anyone. I could move to a different city every year, see the whole world. I could assume as many identities as Id like. I could be a Union soldier. I could be an Italian businessman. I could even be Damon. The sun plunged past the horizon like a cannonball falling to earth, dipping the city into darkness. I turned from one gaslit street to the next, the soles of my boots rasping over the gravelly cobblestones. A loose newspaper blew toward me. I stomped on the broadsheet, examining an etched photo of a girl with long, dark hair and pale eyes. She looked vaguely familiar. I wondered if she was a relative of one of the Mystic Falls girls. Or perhaps a nameless cousin whod attended barbecues at Veritas. But then I saw the headline:BRUTAL MURDER ABOARD THE ATLANTIC EXPRESS. Lavinia. Of course. Id already forgotten her. I reached down and crumpled the paper, hurling it as far as I could into the Mississippi. The surface of the water was muddy and turbulent, dappled with moonlight. I couldnt see my reflection–couldnt see anything but an abyss of blackness as deep and dark as my new future. Could I go for eternity, feeding, killing, forgetting, then repeating the cycle? Yes. Every instinct and impulse I had screamedyes. The triumph of closing in on my prey, touching my canines to the paper-thin skin that covered their necks, hearing their hearts slow to a dull thud and feeling a body go limp in my arms. Hunting and feeding made me feel alive, whole; they gave me a purpose in the world. It was, after all, the natural order of things. Animals killed weaker animals. Humans killed animals. I killed humans. Every species had their foe. I shuddered to think what monster was powerful enough to hunt me. The salty breeze wafting from the water was laced with the odor of unwashed bodies and rotting food–a far cry from the aroma across town, where scents of floral perfume and talcum powder hung heavy in the air of the wide streets. Here shadows hugged every corner, whispers rose and fell with the flowing of the river, and drunken hiccups pierced the air. It was dark, here. Dangerous. I quite liked it. I turned a corner, following my nose like a bloodhound on the trail of a doe. I flexed my arms, ready for a hunt–a gin-soaked drunk, a soldier, a lady out after dark. The victim didnt matter. I turned again, and the iron-scent of blood came closer. The smell was sweet and smoky. I focused on it, on the anticipation of sinking my fangs into a neck, of wondering whose blood Id be drinking, whose life Id be stealing. I continued to walk, picking up my pace as I traced the scent to an anonymous back street lined with an apothecary, a general store, and a tailor. The street was a replica of our own Main Street back in Mystic Falls. But while wed only had one, New Orleans must have had dozens, if not hundreds, of these corridors of commerce. The rusty smell of iron was stronger now. I followed twists and turns, my hunger building, burning, searing my very skin until finally, finally I came to a squat, peach-colored building. But when I saw the painted sign above the door, I stopped short. Sausages in their casings hung in the buildings grimy window; slabs of cured meat dangled from the ceiling like a grotesque childs mobile; carved ribs were nestled in ice beneath a counter, and in the far back, whole carcasses were strung up, draining blood into large vats. This was a butcher shop? I sighed in frustration but my hunger forced me to push the door open anyway. The iron chain snapped easily, as if it were no sturdier than thread. Once inside, I gazed at the bloodied carcasses, momentarily mesmerized by the blood falling into the vats, one drip at a time. Over the sound of the raining blood, I heard the slightestping, no louder than the twitch of a mouses whiskers. Then came the light shuffle of toes passing over concrete. I reared back, my eyes darting from corner to corner. Mice scuttled beneath the floorboards, and someones watch ticked in the building next door. All else was quiet. But the air around me suddenly felt thicker, and the ceiling lower somehow, and I became acutely aware that there was no back exit in this room of death. â€Å"Who goes there?† I called into the darkness, whirling around, my fangs bared. And then came movement. Fangs, eyes, the thud of footsteps closed in around me from all corners. A low, guttural growl echoed off the bloodstained walls of the shop, and I realized with a sickening jolt that I was surrounded by vampires who looked all too ready to pounce. Chapter 9 I crouched low, my fangs elongated. The heady scent of blood permeated every corner of the room, making my head spin. It was impossible to know where to attack first. The vampires growled again, and I emitted a low snarl in response. The circle closed in tighter around me. There were three of them, and I was caught, like a fish in a net, a deer surrounded by wolves. â€Å"What do you think youre doing?† one of the vampires asked. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and had a scar that ran the length of his face, from his left eye to the corner of his lip. â€Å"Im one of you,† I said, standing at my full height, fangs on display. â€Å"Oh, hes one of us!† an older vampire said in a sing-songy voice. He wore glasses and a tweed vest over a white-collared shirt. But for the fangs and red-rimmed eyes, he could have been an accountant or a friend of my fathers. I kept my face impassive. â€Å"I have no ill business with you, brothers.† â€Å"We are not your brothers,† said another with tawny hair. He looked not a day over fifteen. His face was smooth, but his green eyes were hard. The older one stepped forward, poking his bony finger against my chest as if it were a wooden stake. â€Å"So, brother, nice evening to dine or die. What do you think?† The young vampire kneeled next to me, gazing into my eyes. â€Å"Looks like hell do both tonight. Lucky boy,† he said, ruffling my hair. I tried to kick him, but my foot simply flopped harmlessly against air. â€Å"No, no, no.† While the scarred vampire watched wordlessly, the boy grabbed my arms and wrenched them so sharply and abruptly behind my back that I gasped. â€Å"Dont be disrespectful. Were your elders. And youve already done quite enough disrespecting already, if Miss Mollys house is any indication.† He drawled her name as if he were a benign, genteel Southern gentleman. Only the steel grip on my limbs betrayed that he wasnt anything of the sort. â€Å"I didnt do anything,† I said, kicking again. If I were to die, then Id die in a fight. â€Å"Are you sure?† he asked, looking down at me in disgust. I attempted to twist away, but still I couldnt budge. The elder vampire chuckled. â€Å"Cant control his urges. Impulsive, this one. Lets give him a taste of his own medicine.† With a flourish, he released me from his grasp, pushing me forward with strength Id never before felt. I hit the plaster wall with a crash and fell on my shoulder, my head cracking against the wooden floorboards. I cowered beneath my attackers, the realization sinking in that if I were to survive this encounter, it would not be by might. â€Å"I didnt mean to do anything. Im sorry,† I said, my voice breaking on the word. â€Å"Do you mean it?† the young vampire asked, a glint in his eye. The sound of wood breaking assaulted my ears. I flinched. Would one vampire stake another? This was not a question I wanted answered the hard way. â€Å"Yes. Yes! I didnt mean to come in here. I didnt know anyone was here. I only just arrived in New Orleans,† I said, scrambling for an excuse. â€Å"Silence!† he commanded, advancing toward me, a jagged piece of wood in his hand. I pressed my spine into the damaged wall. So this is how it would end. With me dying on a makeshift stake, killed by my own kind. Two hands crushed my arms, while another two pinned my ankles together so forcefully that it felt as though I were stuck under boulders. I closed my eyes. An image of Father lying prone on his study floor swam to the forefront of my mind, and I shook my head in agony, remembering his sweating, terrified face. Of course, Id been trying to save him, but he hadnt known that. If he was watching, as an angel or a demon or a mere specter condemned to haunt the world, hed be thrilled to see this scene unfold. I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying to evoke some other memory to the fore of my mind, one that would take me to another place, another time. But all I could think of were my victims, of the moment when my fangs sliced into their skin, their plaintive wails descending into silence, the blood dripping down my fangs and onto my chin. Soon, all the blood Id taken would be released, seeping out of my own body and back into the Earth, as I was left to die, for real this time, forever, on this wooden floor. â€Å"Enough!† A female voice sliced through the montage in my mind. Immediately, the vampires let go of my hands and feet. My eyes sprang open, and I saw a woman gliding through a narrow wooden door in the back. Her long blond hair descended in a single plait down her back, and she wore mens black pants and suspenders. She was tall, though slight as a child, and all the other vampires shrank away from her in fear. â€Å"You,† she said, kneeling next to me. â€Å"Who are you?† Her amber eyes gazed into mine. They were clear and curious, but there was something about them–the darkness of the pupils, perhaps–that seemed ancient and knowing, which stood in sharp contrast to her rosy-cheeked, unlined face. â€Å"Stefan Salvatore,† I answered her. â€Å"Stefan Salvatore,† she repeated in a perfect Italian accent. Although teasing, her voice didnt seem unkind. She ran a finger gently along my jaw, then placed her palm against my chest and she pressed me against the wall, hard. The suddenness of the movement stunned me, but as I sat, pinned and helpless, she brought her other wrist to her mouth, using her fang to puncture the vein. She dragged her wrist along her teeth, creating a small stream of blood. â€Å"Drink,† she commanded, bringing her wrist to my lips. I did as I was told, managing to get a few drops of the liquid down my throat before she yanked her hand away. â€Å"Thats enough. That should fix your wounds at any rate.† â€Å"He and his brother have been wreaking havoc all over town,† the large vampire said, his makeshift stake pointed at me like a rifle. â€Å"Just me,† I said quickly. â€Å"My brother had no part in it.† Damon would never survive the wrath of these demons. Not in his weakened state. The blond vampire wrinkled her nose as she leaned even closer toward me. â€Å"Youre what, a week old?† she asked, leaning back on her heels. â€Å"Almost two weeks,† I said defiantly, lifting my chin. She nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips, and stood, surveying the shop. The plaster wall was partially caved in, and blood smeared the floor and speckled the walls, as though a child had stood in the center of the room and twirled around with a wet paintbrush. She tsked, and the three male vampires simultaneously took a step back. I shivered. â€Å"Percy, come here, and bring that knife,† she said. With a sigh, the youngest vampire produced a long carving knife from behind his back. â€Å"He wasnt following the rules,† he said petulantly, reminding me of the Giffin boys back home. They were both bullies, always ready to kick a kid in the schoolyard and then turn around and tell a teacher they had nothing to do with it. She took the knife and stared at it, running the pad of her index finger over the gleaming blade. Then she held it back out to Percy. He hesitated a moment, but finally stepped forward to take it. Just then the girls canines elongated and her eyes flushed bloodred. With a growl, she stabbed Percy right in the chest. He fell to his knees, doubled over in silent agony. â€Å"You hunt this vampire for making a scene in town,† she seethed, stabbing the knife in farther, â€Å"and yet you attempt to destroy him in this public space, in this shop? Youre just as foolish as he is.† The young vampire staggered to his feet. Blood streamed down the front of his shirt, as though hed spilled coffee on himself. He grimaced as he pulled the knife out with a sucking sound. â€Å"Im sorry,† he gasped. â€Å"Thank you.† The woman held her wrist toward Percys mouth. Despite her youthful look and apparently violent temper, she also had a mothering quality that the other vampires seemed to accept, as if her stabbings were as normal to them as a light swat would be to a high-spirited child. She turned toward me. â€Å"Im sorry for your troubles, Stefan. Now, can I help you be on your way?† she asked. I looked around wildly. Id thought no further ahead than escaping this room. â€Å"I â€Å" â€Å". . . dont have anywhere to go,† she said with a sigh, finishing my thought. She glanced toward the other vampires, who were now huddled in the corner of the room, heads bent in conversation. â€Å"Ill just be going,† I said, struggling to my feet. My leg was fine, but my arms shook, and my breath came erratically. With local vampires watching my every move, where would I go? How would I feed? â€Å"Nonsense, youre coming with us,† she said, turning on her heel and walking out the door. She pointed to the young vampire and the one who wore glasses. â€Å"Percy and Hugo, stay and clean this place up.† I had to practically run to keep up with her and the tall, scarred vampire whod watched my torture. â€Å"Youll need someone to show you around,† she explained, pausing only slightly. â€Å"This is Buxton,† she said, grabbing the elbow of the vampire with the long scar. We walked down street after street until we neared a church with a tall spire. â€Å"Were here,† she said, turning sharply to enter a wrought-iron gate. Her boots echoed against a slate path that led to the rear of a house. She opened the door, and a musty scent greeted me. Buxton immediately walked through the parlor and up a set of stairs, leaving me and the young female vampire alone in the darkness. â€Å"Welcome home,† she said, spreading her hands wide. â€Å"There are plenty of spare rooms upstairs. Find one that suits you.† â€Å"Thank you.† As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I took in my surroundings. Black velvet curtains fastened with golden rope blocked every window. Dust motes floated in the air, and gilt-framed paintings covered the walls. The furniture was threadbare, and I could just make out two sweeping staircases with what looked like oriental runners and, in the next room, a piano. Though at one point this must have been a grand house, now the soiled walls were cracked and peeling, and cobwebs draped over the gold-and-crystal chandelier above us. â€Å"Always enter through the back. Never draw back the curtains. Dont ever bring anyone here. Do you understand, Stefan?† She looked at me pointedly. â€Å"Yes,† I said, running a finger along the marble fireplace, cutting a path in the inch-thick dust. â€Å"Then I think you will like it here,† she said. I turned to face her, nodding in agreement. My panic had subsided, and my arms no longer trembled. â€Å"Im Lexi,† she said, holding out her hand, allowing me to raise it to my lips and kiss it. â€Å"I have a feeling that you and I will be friends for a long time.†