and the vampire continued growing [story part 39]

November 2, 2012 § 5 Comments


Because of a few e-mails I recently received, I’ve now been put into a dilemma.

The dilemma is that after the last part of the story – quite a considerable time had passed after the actual vampire story picks up. To put it in other words, after Regina left that day, there has been… almost next to nothing happening in my life.

So what’s the dilemma again? Yeah, some readers are telling me “I don’t believe you and you’re full of bullshit because there’s no way you acted how you acted without any emotional response, and there’s nothing about you personally or about your life in the story or in your diary, who writes a diary without writing their own feelings reflecting on their life?”

Well, I do, but my diary and my story does – and can contain that, no problems, but that just makes it that much longer. I initially refrained from posting too much emotional content or personal opinions because, as you can see in comments past, there’s a number of readers requesting exactly the opposite: “Quit the sissy girl emotional drama and just get on with what actually happened.”

What am I supposed to do?

I have a story to tell, and I can be objective or subjective, and I don’t know how to make peace with both sides.

As such, I think splitting this post in two separate parts is the best way to go. First part is a summary that includes little to no reference to any vampire story, it’s just me. The second part is where the story that you’re interested in actually picks up again. You can choose to read all of it, or skip to the THIS IS THE BOLD LINE that you can’t possibly miss if you scroll down.

So here it goes:

It was now the summer of 2007, almost a year had passed since I told Regina to leave forever that day, and almost a year had passed since I was regretting that very same decision, because as soon as she was gone, I started regretting it. I’m not a man of regrets, but that was a bad decision for me to make, one that I couldn’t, and still can’t believe to this day, that I actually made. But that’s not the point.

The point is that for almost a year I was left alone, to return to my life, to recoup if you want, after the things I’ve been through last time I was with her. I actually thought, at the time (before telling her to leave) that I needed the time to recoup, that I needed to be alone, that I needed to get back to my life to return to normal. However, as days passed, I realized that there’s no way for me to return to ‘normal’ and then it got even worse, with me starting to think that ‘normal’ was actually their world, and that all this… modern day-to-day living was a lie, a facade, a veil over our eyes to keep us going, eating, breathing, living… like livestock.

As days went by, instead of turning more ‘normal’ I turned more and more… bitter and angry. I turned paranoid, I stopped trusting in anyone and anything that moved, and by the years end I was almost a completely different person. What I once was at the beginning of high school was no more, I was now just a figment of that person.

Instead of smart I considered myself stupid, I considered myself a coward, evil, paranoid, introvert and all that. I was, by all definitions, into a really awful depression.

I wanted nothing to do with the outside world. I started to considered it petty, insignificant and false. That night in Turkey changed me more than I thought it would be possible, and only now, years later, I realize that I only realized what I had become and how I changed only when I stepped back.

To make it more clear: While I was with Regina I wasn’t aware I was changing, not so much, but as soon as I was given time-off, and allowed to step back, and be alone for enough time, to be able to really take a look at myself and around me, only then I correctly managed to assess how much I had changed. To think about it, I guess it was rather intentional on Regina’s part. But then again, as I was saying in my second-to-last post (special vampires require special tools) it was all part of the grand scheme of things. I didn’t know then… I didn’t care.

So yes, one year had passed and there I was, one year older, and one year closer to what you, the reader, might imagine that the typical vampire might look like. You see, it is a paradox. I started becoming one, psychologically, only after I was removed from their midst. Stockholm syndrome to extreme one would say. I stopped being able to keep myself in check. Up to that point in my life I always felt strongly that people should be their own psychologists as much as they can, because they do have the power to do so, but after that point, I truly understood the need for “outside help”. For me, it got to the point that it was either getting locked up in a mad-house, or going back in their world, because I just couldn’t function as a normal human being. I couldn’t and more importantly I REFUSED TO. I was just a kid and I had enough trouble adjusting to me growing up as it was, not even mentioning having this thing hovering over my shoulders.

I won’t go into much detail about Viktor or Sophia, for their sake. We’ve kept in touch, and they truly helped me immensely during that time. We remained and still remain friends. They really managed to get me through it all the way. Now don’t go thinking I was the kind of… suicidal depressed type, no, I wouldn’t do that, not then, not now, not ever. No matter how bad it gets, there’s nothing worse than death, and I really believe in that. Well, excluding torture and all that.

I just turned into a… shadow of what I was. I turned bad, sarcastic, egoist, mean, locked inside myself, depressed and angry all the time.

The whole year went by like that, and not once did it occur to me that I was like that because I was terribly, terribly missing something. I was in a damned withdrawal and I couldn’t realize it. And what a withdrawal it was!

A withdrawal from what? From everything! From life itself. I needed the adventure, the adrenaline, the fear, the mystery and the amazement and once I tasted all that, I couldn’t go back.

There are people who paint or sing or climb mountains or write books or just really love doing whatever they do. Those that climb mountains really need the adrenaline every now and then, and taking that away from them would be just as well as a death sentence, because they don’t feel complete anymore.

It’s just like those animals kept in a cage all their lives, ducks that never saw water in their life or such. They continue living… but they are just… zombies.

Trust me, it’s one thing to feel incomplete and not know why – because you haven’t discovered it – and it’s a whole different type of pie feeling incomplete and actually knowing what you’re missing.

A duck that never swam will be a sad duck, but will be a much happier duck than a duck that swam for most of its life and then got locked up.

Do you understand where I’m trying to get to?

I was in withdrawal and I was suffering and that exact thing made me realize quite a few things:

1) I wasn’t that well-intended and smart as I thought I was. I realized I was perfectly capable of hurting anyone (notice how I used “anyone” and not “someone”), in any form, just for the sake of it. I know it’s bad, but I accepted it for some weird reason. I still do. I guess you grow used to it.

2) I realized that the very exact thing that I missed, actually turned me into WHAT I missed. In other words, being kept at a distance for a whole year, I turned more into them, rather than returning to normal, and I did so because I guess, sub-consciously, I wanted it.

3) I realized that I might actually be happier having a life like Regina, rather than what I considered before ‘normal’ and ‘moral’ – basically, human.

4) I realized (after 3) that the balance between “I want to live a normal life” and “I want to be one of them” was by the summer of 2007 about equal. Which meant total chaos for me, because I couldn’t believe I actually got to that point, and I also couldn’t believe that I was faced with the mother of all dilemmas. To live and let live, or to ‘die’ and… well… not let live – speaking of others. There was no ‘middle-way’. Not in the long-run at least. It was proven to be countless times that you’re not spared from taking a life, at some point, even as a human living between them – one could only imagine the amount of lives you would take over the centuries, as one of them.

So here I was. Me, Sophia and Viktor, lying on the green, warm grass in front of Blanche’s so-called crypt. This whole area is very, very peaceful, and it’s the most beautiful thing one can see in a summer afternoon. Huge, tall pine trees and oaks are all around the cemetery, and the orange light is just shinning between their leaves touching you gently and warming you just to the point of being not too warm and not too cold. Just perfect. I still feel that there’s nothing more peaceful and pleasant than a summer afternoon under a tree, in a cemetery.

Anyway, there we were, remembering old times, school, friends, jokes. It was Blanche’s birthday, and although we all knew she wasn’t dead, we missed her, and wondered where she was… and how she was doing… we all hoped that we’ll get to be together again someday, just like we used to be. I mean let’s be serious, is there anyone in this world who wouldn’t want to go back in time to be with their loved ones once again, be it friends or family?

THIS IS THE BOLD LINE

“Don’t you think this is a little dramatic?” – A voice from a tree above and behind us said.
All of us froze. It was Blanche’s voice. IT HAD to be. Creepy times, shivers down our spines, especially after a very un-eventful year in which the most excited we got was when Sophia caught her finger in the door.

We turned around and poof, Blanche was standing before us, hands on her hips, majestically taller, more beautiful than ever, deep red curly hair, smiling from all heart, tears in her eyes, but keeping her stance.

All three of us needed about 10 seconds to actually react, and when we did react, we did so violently. We ran towards her and just tackled her down hugging the life out of her. Dino from the Flintstones had NOTHING on us. Yes, we were that good friends.

We got up and she just hugged all of us one by one really tight, mentioned how we changed and all, but to be honest, she was pretty much the elephant in the room. Speaking of change, she was the most changed from all of us. Nothing about her reminded us of the old Blanche, except her… being… her character.

She was much more… grown up, physically. She matured. She was more muscular, her face was pure joy, shining, perfectly smooth and white. She was gorgeous, dressed casually in blue jeans, a black tank-top and some suede boots. Nothing out of the ordinary. To be honest, it would be hard for anyone that once knew her to recognize her now.

“Blanche! What are you doing here?!” I exclaimed. I was happy that I was seeing her, but I knew very well that she was in for a heap of trouble for coming here. She was strictly forbidden to do so. And she was for as long she was under Viktoria’s control – because she was still in her care by what I remember. As long as Viktoria was responsible for her, she wasn’t really allowed to “take matters and consequences into her own hands”.

“I’m sorry… I just… I couldn’t stay away…” She responded and then added “Plus, you shouldn’t be here. I might just ask you the same question.”

“I’m meeting my parents here. I just have to see them. They won’t live forever, and I don’t want to regret letting them die without seeing them as much as possible… because you know I’ll have a long time to regret that.” Sophia smiled and hugged her again.

Viktor was already hinting me at how… “good” (read hot) Blanche turned out to be, in a not-so-subtle way. Which was by all means true. We were all growing up and changing, but Blanche out-paced us by a decade.

“But Blanche….” I started saying.

“Don’t worry, she’s off to someplace really far away. I’m sure we won’t be seeing her.” She was talking about Viktoria, which calmed me down a bit, and seeing as there was absolutely no sign of any “funny business” going on in the town for the past year, we felt pretty safe and secluded there to share a moment. We were well aware that this was a one-time deal, at least for now, and it wasn’t a vacation. We cherished it even more.

“There they are now!”

Blanche’s parents appeared from the path coming from below the hill and when they saw her they just stared running up the path until they got up without a breath and just hugged Blanche for what seemed like an hour.

“Oh honey you’ve grown so much.” Her mother was saying while taking her face with both of her hands and just looking at her intensely and hugging her again, and again, and again.

Her father wasn’t that far behind with the hugging also. It was both heart-warming and heart-breaking. Knowing that was a happy moment, but because of sad reasons.

Then her father made a rather good observation.

“Isn’t this a little… dramatic? I mean we could have just met at home…” He said.

“But in the cemetery, at your ‘grave’, on your birthday, really?” He continued.

“You would be surprised how many people go home to see their parents on their birthday…” Blanche responded.

“I can’t come home, you know that, and I don’t like spending my birthday alone, you know that too.”

They hugged her again.

We all stood there and just enjoyed the moment which lasted for several hours, and in all that time, plus every other time I went by Blanche’s house, I couldn’t help but have the feeling that somewhere really deep, deep down inside, Blanche’s parents were blaming me for taking their daughter away from them. I couldn’t really say anything, because by any definition, it was true. I mean what parent doesn’t want a normal life for his child?

But then again, they didn’t really show it either, because they themselves weren’t really sure that I was to blame or to thank for… They understood perfectly well what Blanche was and in some weird, twisted form – they actually rejoiced. Rejoiced that their daughter would get to walk this earth for over 100.000 sunrises. I mean their dilemma basically boiled down to what I was previously feeling. To be or not to be. That is the question.

But as all good things, this one had to end too, and by nightfall they were already saying their goodbyes, but with joy and hope in all of our eyes. During the talks, Blanche laid out plans how she was planning to spend every last second they have on this earth with them, and promised them that as soon as she gets to be on her own, without Viktoria, and settles for a life, she’s going tot take them away in some other country where nobody would ever know who they are and why they are there.

And to tell you now, it took more than it should have, but it finally happened this past summer. And good for them.

We also said our goodbyes, perfectly aware that we weren’t leaving together out of that cemetery, and that we won’t end our conversation with “See you tomorrow.”

We spent a good part of the evening just doing that, saying goodbye, and we finally parted ways.

And that was it.

For three or four hours.

By 1 AM I was sound asleep, when ahhh all that too familiar sound started reverberating in the room and around me. The ticking of fingernails on my window. One, two, three. Stop.

Again.

One, two, three. Stop.

Again.

I woke up, I heard it, and my heart fell to the floor. It took all my will to turn my head and look at the window, because I was in that position in which a kid is when he wakes up in the morning without being sure if Santa came that past night. He’s both really excited to go to the Christmas tree, but fears in the same time that no presents might be there.

That was me. I was well aware that only one person in the world does that – at least just one did that too me – and as much as I wanted that to happen, I was afraid.

I turned my head and there she was.

Or not.

Blanche?!

I opened the window and looked to my right and my left.

“Where’s Regina?!” I asked.

“How should I know?!” Blanche replied and hopped in.

“Aren’t you supposed to wait for me to ask you in?” I said.

“Aww crap. I forgot. Can I come in?” She replied.

“Uhmm… sure?” I answered.

“Good.” She said, smiled and sat down on the bed.

I didn’t really care she was still in town, I was glad to see her again.

“So tell me… how is it?” I asked.

We were now on the point in discussing… that elephant in the room. The fact that she was a vampire and not that normal happy teenage girl we knew before. She needed to talk with someone about it, and seeing as we didn’t do it back in the cemetery, with her parents being there, she wanted someone to talk with that could understand her. At least that’s what I initially thought was the reason for her coming there that night.

And we did talk about it, a bit. Small chat really.

She told me that Viktoria really took an interest in training her the best she could, and started considering her more and more like family, because as we both knew, she was the same blood with Viktoria and Regina. That was it. Only three of them of the pure blood that Regina was.

Viktoria and Blanche were, by their definition, sisters. By my definition… anything but.

She told me how Viktoria taught her every little single thing about every little single insignificant fact, and she also told me (quite excitedly) about a whole bunch of perks – but downsides also – that she had.

She talked about how she’s basically forced by Viktoria too much, too fast.

Blanche understood her position and who she was all too well, and she knew she had to live-up to what she was, and there was no “average” for her. Being Regina’s blood meant you had to be an example of… perfection. She had years ahead of her to learn, but Viktoria – and Regina too – both took a very special interest in keeping her 100% engaged all the time. Sometimes as a pet, sometimes as an equal.

Blanche also told me that there was a single thing she couldn’t do. Hunt.

She couldn’t kill, she didn’t want to, and was forced to feed by her own means as a result. She wasn’t given any help with feeding – that is one thing that every vampire has to learn for himself, and she had a hard time adjusting.

I put out some candles in the room and we just both moved from the bed to the window sill just admiring the night sky…

We just stood there in silence for a few minutes and then Blanche suddenly said:

“She’s coming for you, you know…”

I just… I was both terrified and happy at hearing that, but I kept my excitement to me and just looked at Blanche and said…

“Yeah… I know…” In a disappointed kind of way.

Blanche put her hand to my heart.

“I can feel it you know, better than you can… I can hear it…” She said.

I knew that, but I didn’t realize it when I was trying to hide my excitement. After a year spent among humans, ‘faking it’, it’s hard to realize and change all of a sudden. It was harder to ‘fake it’ near a vampire.

“You want it. I can hear it. Your heart doesn’t lie.” Blanche said.

“I didn’t say I don’t.” I replied.

“No, but why are you trying to hide it? Do you really think denying what you feel would just make it go away?” Blanche continued.

“Well look at you how much of an emotional, romantic psychologist you became all of a sudden!” I blurted out and turned around.

“All I’m saying is, that… there’s no point in regretting something that doesn’t need to be that way, that you can change. Look at me. I came to be with my parents because that’s where I wanted to be on my birthday. I know I shouldn’t have, but I wanted it, and I’m not denying myself that.” Blanche said and then added:

“Anyway, regardless of what you feel. She’s coming for you.”

“What do you mean she’s coming for me?” I was asking because it sounded… bad.

“I don’t really know what I mean, all I know is that she’s not staying away for much longer.” Blanche responded.

“When?” I asked.

“In an hour, a day, or a week, don’t know exactly, but really soon. So decide what you want, and either stay or leave. And if you leave, make sure you leave for good.” Blanche answered, and with that she hugged and kissed me goodbye, and off she was into the night… I wondered if I would ever see her again.

…and the birth of a vampire [story part 38]

October 13, 2012 § 15 Comments


Regina was pacing back and forth in front of the three remaining and by now I was already pretty near, almost next to her, but keeping a rather safe distance. I didn’t know what she would do next. Nobody ever really knew that, ever.

Then she stopped dead.

Viktoria came out from the inside of one of the buildings, where one of them pointed that Gunnar would be. Regina was looking intensely at her and I kept looking backward and forward between them because I couldn’t really see anything, but Regina’s look was becoming more and more alarming. She saw it, and whatever it was, I didn’t like it.

Viktoria made another few steps and she was in front of us.

I was already really close to a panick attack, and what came next didn’t actually help.

Viktoria was holding a head in her arms, a head that I quickly identified as being Gunnar. She placed it right in Regina’s lap which by now was kneeling, overcome completely by what she was seeing. You would imagine she had more strength than this, but you would be wrong, because as I learned over the years, and was prone to learning even more, the hard way, there was nothing more important for Regina than those that she held close, which weren’t many, a thing that only made it an even stronger emotion.

She took Gunnar’s head with both her hands and just stared at it like you stare at a newly found book in a library. I was frozen. I didn’t know what to do, what to think, I didn’t even have the power to panick or vomit or faint. I was just… there. I don’t think I took another breath for twenty seconds or so.

I was however, expecting the mother of all rage episodes in the history of this planet to rain down on us all, human, vampire or anything else, in that yard. I braced myself.

Viktoria was pretty much in the same situation as I was, you could tell from her face. I specifically remember that I checked for her expression and reaction, in order to adapt it, or to seek confirmation that I’m reacting like I should, in order to copy it, to be them, to seek… acceptance? I was getting awfully close to a bridge that only went one way.

What came instead, was not rage, but one hundred percent pure happiness and sadness in the same time. It’s really hard to describe such a state, I never had one, but I’ll try. It’s like you see the most happy person in the world, laughing and smiling, really smiling with every inch of her body, but in the same time, you see that person crying and just generally reading the saddest expression you’ve ever seen on their face. It’s something that only those really few “special” people who need to be locked away immediately can pull off. You really need pure insanity to combine those too, and a hell lot more of pure rationality and logic to hold them back in everyday life. This was just… another face of what Regina was. Hundreds of years of regrets, emotions, happy moments, sad moments, desperate and euphoric moments in the same time. The human mind isn’t equipped for such a long time of mixing of memories, especially a mind that hardly ever degrades, a mind that usually remembers almost everything, from every point of view, that includes emotion. A memory is nothing but a photograph without the emotion attached to it. Regina had all that inside of her, and they were leaking.

She however, pretty much… refrained herself… if I can say that, from doing anything… well, rash. At least not herself.

As she was standing there, I saw her crying again. Regina cries just like you and me, as often as life requires it. And that was one of the many, many reasons I am fascinated by this being… all of the others are more or less stone cold, or just filled with anger that they hold back through excessive politeness or sarcasm, but Regina is a human being whenever she allows herself to be one, and changes into a stone-cold killing machine in a second if she needs herself to be that. Like I was saying at the very beginning of this story, I was always, always left speechless every time she showed me how much more human she is than most people I know. She enjoys life more than I do, more than anyone really.

But then again, she is the queen of what we call monsters, and we call them that for a good reason.

With a slow movement, she grabbed one of the bloody guns lying around her, stood up and pulled me violently towards her.

She shoved the gun in my hands and still with tears in her eyes said: “This is what life means sometimes. Protecting what you love.”

And she stood aside.

It took me a few moments to realize what she was actually asking me to do, and when I did realize, I instantly panicked. Couldn’t hold it back anymore. I stepped back, terrified, still holding the gun in a tight grip in my hands. I can still feel the warm blood on my hands even as I write this now.

Regina didn’t say anything, but I knew this was “a no getting out of” situation. I looked to my left and to my right, and a large part of… well… everyone, was watching me.

Regina wasn’t Regina no more, not at that moment. This bitch right there, she knew very well how to make me do anything I didn’t want to do. And I realized for the first time, that she was indeed pushing me through a forced training. I had a pretty good idea what was it for, but I refused to believe it.

“DO IT!” She shrieked at me.

I couldn’t believe what she was asking. HOW COULD SHE FUCKING ASK ME THIS?!

Who does she think she is – monster. How can you play with the lives of humans like this. You’re not a god!
Arrogant, petty and evil girl. The world would be a better place without your killings and righteous ideas.

I’d rather kill myself than become her!

In a moment of pure and utter stupidity (or pure rationality, can’t decide) I went close to Regina:

“Don’t force me to do this…” I said in a low, hush voice.

She smiled. Clearly she was not backing down.

I gripped the gun even harder and shoved it violently to Regina’s forehead. Me, barely a kid, never fired a gun. I was panicking, I was scared and I was above all, pissed off like no other time.

I pushed that gun to her forehead so hard that I saw her cringing and I squeezed that trigger so hard that even the slightest shiver would make me fire the gun, voluntarily or not. This was by all means, the best time in which nobody should even breathe.

I could see feel the whole yard tensing up, Viktoria being not even 5 meters away, all tensed up and ready to do… nothing. Because there was nothing she could do.

Regina held out her hands in a way of telling everybody “stand back” while still watching me in the eyes, not taking her eyes off mine, not even for a second.

She didn’t say anything. She just stared at me. I knew she knew that if I didn’t shoot her right away, I wasn’t really going to, but what she didn’t knew is that I really, really wanted to push that trigger one or two times, but I couldn’t. No matter how much I hated her, I loved her ten times more.

She also knew, that if a person wants to do something horrible, for example commit suicide, and you want to prevent him, you could do two things:

1. Keep that person locked-up, in a room without any tools or ways of hurting himself, forever, or

2. Leave the person alone in a bathroom that is equipped with everything, from scissors to razor-blades.

The outcome would be either 1 or, in case you decide going 2, and the person ends-up not doing anything, then you have the problem solved. You don’t need no guarding anymore, no explaining and no restraining. You need to push the person so far that he or she will make a decision, after which you can be pretty much sure that the decision has been, in fact, made.

To put it in other words: If you’re afraid someone you can’t lock-up, kill, or harm in any way, someone who will be with you every day, wants to cut your throat, give him a knife and go to sleep.

And sure enough, I caved. I lowered the gun and Regina lowered her hands.

But she didn’t cave.

She went behind me, and physically forced me to turn towards the three men who by now were pretty much lifeless, even though their heart was still beating, they were more or less aware of what was going to happen.

With her behind me, holding my hand tight and pushing it upwards, she made me take aim. She didn’t force me to shoot however. She stood back, and I remained like that, like a molded statue, frozen, barely breathing.

In my head, WW3 was being fought.

Do it. Don’t do it. Kill them. Are you crazy? NO! They killed one of them. So what? You’re not one of them. But Regina? Fuck her. No, how can you say that. Kill them, it’s no big deal. Just push the trigger. No, you won’t be able to live with yourself. Yes you will. No. Kill them already. No, they have families. No they don’t. Yes, they do. So what? They are humans. No they aren’t, they are more of a monster that any vampire. That’s not true. Yes, it is, because they are humans and still murder others. And what does that make me if I kill them? Shut up. Don’t think. Do it. Close your eyes. Do it. No. Don’t do it! Put the gun down! You have a choice. No you don’t. You either kill them or someone else will. Then let someone else do it. No, you need to do it. Do IT NOW. NO! DON’T!

Deep breath. Hold it.

Time frozen. Nothing was moving. No sound. The air wasn’t moving around me anymore. The wind, the stars, the lights, everyone there, my body included, everything, was gone.

Nothing existed anymore. I wasn’t breathing anymore, I couldn’t hear or see anything anymore.

Nothingness…

*BANG*

I shot. My whole body shook and I was taken back a foot.

One of them just fell to the floor, limp, lifeless…

I. Had. Killed. Someone.

I was expecting myself to either vomit, faint or just lose any grip on reality, lose the power to stand….

But instead, what happened to me that night, is one of the reasons I’m even writing this blog.

Human nature happened. Instead of feeling sick, I felt empowered.

I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t want to believe it. But I liked it. I liked having the power of life and death. I liked taking the lives of those who deserved, and the feeling that courses through your veins when you see that blood that you just spilled rushing on the floor is just unexplainable. It is dread, pure fear. Fear of what you became, fear of what you are… Fear that you’ve always been like this. In the same time, it’s euphoric, it’s better than sex, smoking, and riding a roller-coaster in the same time. You feel every hair on your body rise up, you feel every part of your skin buzzing with energy. You feel alert, you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt before.

I smiled and without wanting even to stop and think, I raised the gun again.

*BANG*

aim

*BANG*

The remaining two also felt to the floor, and their blood was now merging into a steady stream towards my feet. I stood aside, disgusted but fascinated by it.

Is this what human nature is? Is this why we’ve built societies and are enforcing education and rules on our children? Are we – at our very core – predators, killers, evil?

Is this what happens to a person when you take away all guilt and all the rules, and allow him to take a life with absolutely no consequences? Is this what happens when you force a person to kill, out of his own will?

You strip away all the rules, all the morality, all the society accords, you strip away everything that person has been taught life should be, and you just leave a bare, open, pure instinct. A primeval instinct that is there, I assure you, in each and every of us. It’s dormant, and it better stay that way, because once you wake it, there’s no going back.

It’s like rasing a wolf-pup on boiled meat all its life. It will be a docile, almost domestic dog, with little to no interest in biting or harming anyone. The moment that wolf has a taste of pure, fresh meat, bloody meat – it will never be the same. The wolf changes completely, something in his brain activates, and he becomes a shark following a trail of blood. That same wolf will bite and murder the very human that raised him, at the very sight of blood. There’s no going back from it.

I dropped the gun and realized what I had just done, and sure, regret was there, and will always be there. I was more scared by the fact that I accepted it more easily than I would have wanted, and if I only had known what that night meant for me, I would have never have done it in the first place. Never. That was just the initiation, the start of what would become a very long trail of blood.

I had no interest in finding out what happens with all the bodies, although now I have a pretty good idea on what happened with them. There was no cleaning service like I liked to call it in Turkey, they needed to deal with them locally, and so they did. But that’s another story.

The main story is that Regina and I drove all the way from there to Sighisoara.

I didn’t say a word all the way back, she didn’t say anything either. Almost 24 hours of non-stop driving, without saying anything, without eating, without sleeping.

[audio http://k006.kiwi6.com/hotlink/0jt5whtmn3/maddi_jane_jar_of_hearts_christina_perri_.mp3]

We just went straight home, still covered in blood, each with his own regrets, each with his own reasons to cry inside.
I didn’t even care anymore who was behind everything and what the hell was going on, which was totally opposite to what Regina cared, because there was nothing more important for her than finding out who did this…

The whole way back I only had one thing in mind.

The feeling that I got from doing what I did, which didn’t disappear. It got stronger and stronger. Eating me from the inside out, making me crave for more.

I realized, for the first time, that I might actually want to be one of them, and live my life like that. For the first time, I understood what Regina truly was, and what she needed to do in order to keep everyone safe.

I understood all that, because I lived through it. I felt it. It’s one thing to hear it explained, see it, or read about it – and to actually take matters into your own hands, literally.

I felt empowered, I felt alive, and I realized that I never, ever wanted this feeling to go away.

I was ready to become one of them. I remember I was dead set on telling Regina right that very night, to finish with the games, to turn me in my own bed, in the comfort of my home, and to just be there when I wake up. I wanted to get it over with – the waiting, the games, and more than anything, I wanted “in” on everything she was, because I loved the smell of power, and metaphorically speaking, the taste of blood.

But that very thing that was screaming at me not to do it, not to murder those people, that very thing was now screaming even harder at me. I felt overwhelmed, and my free will was literally taken away from me.

I couldn’t open my mouth or do anything to tell Regina what I want. We ended up back home and I had no free will. Some higher, or lower, force, someone outside of my control, my sub-conscious, my each and every fiber of thought, was opposing my decision and my free will, and they all had one message for me:

Don’t do it.

But I wanted it so, so bad. I stopped writing in my diary, I stopped speaking to anyone.

I was literally going through withdrawal.

I mustered the power to speak a few words, and those words were not anything related to my true desire.

As we stood there, the second day after we arrived, outside my house, in the backyard, I grabbed Regina’s hands and I told her to basically leave me alone.

I can’t explain it to myself not even to this day, of what actually happened, and how it’s possible for your mouth to say something when your whole body craves and screams for something else, but I’m sure you all know the feeling.

I asked her to leave, and never come back. I asked her to leave me and the town alone, I asked her to give me my life back and just… go and lose herself in the sea of people. I ripped down the necklace and shoved it in her hands, I forced her to leave, I asked her to leave the house and leave the town and never come back, not for me, not for anyone I know.

“Please Regina, I want my life back… eternity is too much for me. I’m not who you’re looking for. Take this and just leave. Please.”

And she looked at me for a few seconds, then looked at her hands for another few seconds, then back at me… studying my eyes, my face…

She was looking for anything that would betray my decision, any sign of me not actually wanting this, but she didn’t find anything except a totally blank face. She convinced herself that I’m speaking my mind, and she left.

She didn’t take anything, she didn’t say anything, she just hopped inside the car and left.
I saw the car turning right, and that was it, she was… gone.

And you know what? I was 100% sure that she – or anyone sent by her – will never come for me again. I felt alone for the first time, and for a second there, I panicked at what I had just done, but then I shortly remembered of what I was actually capable (and WISHFUL!) of doing when I was with her, I didn’t even want to think what I would become if I was to be one of them, with such a thirst for blood in me from a young age, as a kid, a human… I couldn’t allow myself to go there. We had to part ways, forever. And we did.

But nevertheless, the lingering feeling and tought, the desire of blood and power remained… and it grew and it grew, and just like your deepest regrets that no matter what you do, you can’t push back, I couldn’t push back my desires also.

That line between: “I will never want to become one of you.” and “Maybe.” was crossed. I inclined towards maybe, starting from that night forward, and that’s all that it takes.

An idea.

Because a vampire is born out of acceptance of what he is, and the life he will have. It’s the thought and the idea first, then the actual birth of a vampire. And that night, for me, was the start of a totally different way of being, of thinking… and the start of a different road, towards a different goal. A goal that I didn’t set for myself, but that pushed itself into my head and heart.

A vampire was being born inside me, very slowly, but surely…

where have you been?

September 13, 2012 § 8 Comments


Like I’ve been telling my readers (the ones who contact me) I was planning to go home in Sighisoara, back where it all started. Not for good, just for summer.

I used to consider it too dangerous to go back, which might just be true. However, something happened (which will be in the story as soon as I get with it to the current year) but all in all it has proven to be a fruitful journey.

I’m very, very tempted to give away free spoilers here, but I’m going to refrain myself. I’m just going to say that the whole point of this was, among others, the fact that I haven’t been there in years, the fact that I haven’t talked with anyone back home in years, the fact that I didn’t know anything new about Viktor, Blanche or Sophia.

That was until I got an e-mail from Sophia asking me to come home as soon as possible. Which I did.

Next up, story part number 30, from where I left off, which is more precisely the winter of 2006. We’re closing in here, just six more years to go.

Where Am I?

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