- An idea came to me one day of the anguish a vampire might feel in killing a mortal he loved, and of how he might take out that anguish on himself, only to heal again moments later -
What had I done?
She no longer resembled the vision of beauty I could
recreate a thousand times over, for nothing remained of that grace and allure;
not the rosy skin, not the clear sparkling green eyes, not a single charming
movement. Like a pocket-watch dropped into water, like a flower picked and left
to wither, she would never be the same again. Holding her, comatose and bloody
in my arms, I listened as her heartbeat pulsed slower and slower, depriving her
of yet another breath with every passing minute. She had been too fragile and I
too strong. My desire for her had been fuelled by something other than pure
bloodlust (which didn't happen very often) and for a few months I had thought I
had myself under control, but today was different; today she had abandoned
herself to me, waking the dormant creature within and tempting it to
destruction. Instead of making the sweet love to her that she had most likely
expected, I had torn out her throat and broken several bones. In the midst of
my frenzy, I had been blind to her terrified disbelief and, though she must’ve
pleaded for her life (which before today I had valued higher than my own), I
had heard only the delicious rush of her blood as it flowed beneath her skin.
Her screams had meant nothing to me: until they had stopped.
Lying in my arms, I heard her death approach, catching her
mid-breath and freezing her heart’s final beat. A bell tolled her passing in my
mind, its sound forcing tears to spill from my eyes. With a wretched sob, I
pushed her empty body from me and ran. I knew right there in the middle of her
bed wasn't the best place to leave her, hair stiff with blood and wearing only
a mismatched set of underwear, but my fury at losing her combined with my
hunter’s instinct to survive meant I would be far enough away by the time I
ever came under suspicion; right now though I simply did not know what to do
with myself. After a sprint through the late evening shadows I came to a small
block of flats which, for the present it seemed, was unoccupied, its walls
still clear of graffiti but plastered with To Let signs. I climbed the fire
escape and was soon pacing on the small roof area, feeling the cold night air
dry the blood on my face as a multitude of needles pierced my heart, injecting
me with equal parts remorse and seething anger.
Why? I asked myself. Why her? Why couldn't she have been the
exception to my unearthly appetite? She had known what I was, had been so sure
of the power our love had over me, yet she had stretched my restraint too far
too fast and it had snapped. I’d made her pay the price for falling for a
creature like me. I stood a moment, contemplating returning to her body before
it was discovered and resurrecting her; just one swallow of my blood and we’d
be immortally entwined. But she’d made her intentions clear not long ago that
forever would remain my fate and not hers too, as much as she loved me. In a
second wave of anger I kicked one of the railings surrounding the roof,
smashing part of it out. Now I was inexplicably mad at her: for being so
selfish, so enticing, so…human!
Another vampire would never fall victim to my hunger in the way she had! If
only there was someone else out there. Then I just relapsed into a grieving
loneliness. The night passed swiftly as I sat remembering her every detail,
from her glorious auburn hair and shy smile which always dimpled her cheeks, to
the firmness of her body pressed close to me and her scent, artificially sweet
and floral over the ripe cocktail of her blood and skin. The vision of her
lying near naked on her disarranged bed, both living and dead, also assaulted
me time and again throughout the night until, just before dawn, something went
wrong.
Her memories, once soothing to my traumatized mind, now felt
poisoned and it could only be because I had made them so. Wave after wave of
bittersweet loss engulfed me, mocked me, making my skin crawl. What had I done?
All of a sudden I was clawing at my own face, biting and tearing the skin from
my arms, scraping at my chest in an attempt to silence my own heart, and crying
like a wolf. Soon my clothes and skin were in tatters and, exhausted and
bloodied, I fell to my knees, already feeling myself healing. It wasn't enough.
It would never be enough. With another enraged howl, I pitched myself from the
roof. My natural instinct would've been to absorb the impact through my body,
feet first, however I was out to damage myself as much as possible and so I
took the full force of my descent suicide-style on my back. It hurt so much to
feel my bones break as I hit the ground, to feel a rib puncture my left lung
and the back of my skull explode into my brain, experience every blood vessel
haemorrhage and my various internal tissues be lacerated. A human would've died
instantaneously but all I could do was lie on the unforgiving concrete,
shattered, bleeding, yet still alive (or as alive as a vampire could be) and
curse my luck as my body began to mend itself. But at least the pain served as
temporary punishment for my crime. After about ten minutes of blacking my own
eyes, I smelt something human approaching me.
“What are you doing on the ground?” it slurred, emanating
more than just its usual smell of mortality. It was a young man, similar in
age, appearance-wise, to myself, reeking of alcohol and stupidly drunk. “You
can’t catch a taxi like that you know….they don’t come down here.”
“Then why are you down here?” I asked, deciding to humour
him for a moment.
He appeared to think about his response before replying, “I’m
hiding. Someone’s trying to steal my drink…”
“Who from?” Absent-mindedly, I noticed his bottle was empty.
Again his brow furrowed in thought and he looked skyward as
if for inspiration but his eye was caught by the hole in the railing above,
“Did you fall from all the way up there?”
“Why yes, I did.” I replied, wondering what he would make of
that as I got to my feet. Clearly this information was too much for him to
process. He looked at me, then up to the railing and back, slowly but didn't
say anything more, surprisingly not remarking on the copious amounts of fresh
blood that stained my skin nor the state of my clothes. I decided then that my
interest in him had run its course. With his attention elsewhere I reached out
and snatched his bottle before smashing it over his head. He collapsed with a
soft thud into a pile of rubbish bags.
“Humans,” I muttered with disgust.
The sun was beginning to colour the sky by this point and,
while I had no reason to hide from the coming dawn, I had every reason to be
shot of the town before the day began. I shed my tattered clothes, remarking my
intact skin nonchalantly, and, with a final surge of regret, pushed myself into
a new form. Something with large dark wings and hungry claws. Many new paths
lay open to me as I took flight but which I took really didn't concern me. I
could try to be human again and risk another unfortunate female fatality, or I
could retreat into a vast and unspoilt forest, becoming the stuff of urban
legends; all I knew was that I had eternity to find a million different ways to
screw it up.
What could I do?
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