he did what I had done? What if he killed?
So I stayed by his side as my hunger increased, after all, he’d drank a fair whack of my blood before doing this to himself. I got hungrier and hungrier and eventually I gave in. I wanted to be in control, I needed to be in control when he awoke. I needed to be there for him, to deal with whatever lay ahead. I allowed myself to feed, but I didn’t go far. I had to cope with some small prey, a fox, a badger. It wasn’t bad, in fact it made me feel better. More pure again. Less corrupted.
The whole time I listened hard for signs he was awakening.…
When I returned he was still there, pale and lifeless. I sat next to him in the darkness, wondering about my past, thinking about the people I’d lost, and where they now were. For the first time I drew out the photo album I’d packed and looked at the photos. My friends from college. Rachel. My parents. My older brother. I wondered what they were up to now. How affected they were by my loss. If they were getting on with their lives … or if they were searching for me. Not for the first time, I wondered if I should seek them out, tell them I was alive. Well, kind of, but I again decided against it. What if they knew what I’d done? What if they hated me?
What if they reported me to the police? What would happen to me if I was put in a cell? If I couldn’t have blood? If I was forced into the day light?
And … what if I hurt them?
I looked at the picture of me and Rachel, with our closest friends Tina and Phil, all ready for a night out, all tipsy and smiling. I thought about how empty I’d felt when I’d had so much…. It dawned on me that I must have been depressed. Why hadn’t I realised? I should have tried another route, therapy, for instance. Maybe I should have gone to the doctors, and tried to find happiness without the recklessness … maybe then none of this would have happened.
Rachel would still be alive.
I flicked the pages of the album. There was my dog from home, an adorable black lab. My heart twinged. I opened the album onto a group photo of me with my parents and brother, and it was just too much. I closed the album as Adam twitched, and quickly put it back in my bag.
“Adam,” I said, touching his shoulder. And then I heard his heart start beating. And then he started to breathe. The deep slow breaths of sleep.
I wiped my brow, and realised I’d broken out in a sweat. Adam had come back to life. That must be how it had been with me. How could Luca have done that to me? But then, how could I have done the things that I had done?
Lack of control.
I was out of control.
Is that what Luca had been? Wild? Reckless? Then why had I woken up at home? Did he take me there? Why didn’t he stay with me? Did he care for me at all? Was he as attracted to me as I was to him? Or is that how I make my victims feel, as though they love me? A pseudo love.
Adam’s eyes flickered, and he groaned.
“Adam,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Are you OK?”
“Thirsty,” he muttered. “I hurt …”
I felt like saying, ‘You idiot, what do you expect?’ but I figured he was probably in a volatile state and I shouldn’t even go there.
“When you’re ready, we can hunt,” I said – I figured going down the trying a cup of tea route, like I did, was not a good idea.
“Hunt?” He opened his eyes slowly. It wasn’t quite dawn, so he didn’t need to squint, but he did anyway.
“Can you remember what you did?” I asked.
A slow smile crept onto his face. I wasn’t sure I liked it. “Hmm … does this mean it worked? Am I … am I a vampire?”
“It would certainly seem like it. You were dead – now you’re not. Is that what you wanted?”
He nodded. “I need something. Blood. But I feel bad … weak.”
“If you wait here I’ll catch something
So I stayed by his side as my hunger increased, after all, he’d drank a fair whack of my blood before doing this to himself. I got hungrier and hungrier and eventually I gave in. I wanted to be in control, I needed to be in control when he awoke. I needed to be there for him, to deal with whatever lay ahead. I allowed myself to feed, but I didn’t go far. I had to cope with some small prey, a fox, a badger. It wasn’t bad, in fact it made me feel better. More pure again. Less corrupted.
The whole time I listened hard for signs he was awakening.…
When I returned he was still there, pale and lifeless. I sat next to him in the darkness, wondering about my past, thinking about the people I’d lost, and where they now were. For the first time I drew out the photo album I’d packed and looked at the photos. My friends from college. Rachel. My parents. My older brother. I wondered what they were up to now. How affected they were by my loss. If they were getting on with their lives … or if they were searching for me. Not for the first time, I wondered if I should seek them out, tell them I was alive. Well, kind of, but I again decided against it. What if they knew what I’d done? What if they hated me?
What if they reported me to the police? What would happen to me if I was put in a cell? If I couldn’t have blood? If I was forced into the day light?
And … what if I hurt them?
I looked at the picture of me and Rachel, with our closest friends Tina and Phil, all ready for a night out, all tipsy and smiling. I thought about how empty I’d felt when I’d had so much…. It dawned on me that I must have been depressed. Why hadn’t I realised? I should have tried another route, therapy, for instance. Maybe I should have gone to the doctors, and tried to find happiness without the recklessness … maybe then none of this would have happened.
Rachel would still be alive.
I flicked the pages of the album. There was my dog from home, an adorable black lab. My heart twinged. I opened the album onto a group photo of me with my parents and brother, and it was just too much. I closed the album as Adam twitched, and quickly put it back in my bag.
“Adam,” I said, touching his shoulder. And then I heard his heart start beating. And then he started to breathe. The deep slow breaths of sleep.
I wiped my brow, and realised I’d broken out in a sweat. Adam had come back to life. That must be how it had been with me. How could Luca have done that to me? But then, how could I have done the things that I had done?
Lack of control.
I was out of control.
Is that what Luca had been? Wild? Reckless? Then why had I woken up at home? Did he take me there? Why didn’t he stay with me? Did he care for me at all? Was he as attracted to me as I was to him? Or is that how I make my victims feel, as though they love me? A pseudo love.
Adam’s eyes flickered, and he groaned.
“Adam,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Are you OK?”
“Thirsty,” he muttered. “I hurt …”
I felt like saying, ‘You idiot, what do you expect?’ but I figured he was probably in a volatile state and I shouldn’t even go there.
“When you’re ready, we can hunt,” I said – I figured going down the trying a cup of tea route, like I did, was not a good idea.
“Hunt?” He opened his eyes slowly. It wasn’t quite dawn, so he didn’t need to squint, but he did anyway.
“Can you remember what you did?” I asked.
A slow smile crept onto his face. I wasn’t sure I liked it. “Hmm … does this mean it worked? Am I … am I a vampire?”
“It would certainly seem like it. You were dead – now you’re not. Is that what you wanted?”
He nodded. “I need something. Blood. But I feel bad … weak.”
“If you wait here I’ll catch something
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