protect my daughter for myself by making me vampire, and I did. I watched her grow and marry, and have children of her own, and to this day I still guard and protect her offspring.” I look down sadly. “I am a grandfather of some unfathomable greatness now.” I smile sadly again. “But I have never spoken to any of those children. Instead I watch them from a distance, and protect them, always.”
Silence fills the room, echoing around us like a black abyss. I don’t know that I expected her to say anything, or that there is anything left to say between us. I have shown her my ugly side, the side that I do not even like to admit to myself, the side that is so dirty that an eternity of washing could never make me clean again. I am the cause of my wife’s brutal murder, I am the reason my daughter grew up without a mother and father, believing that she was abandoned on some church steps like an unwanted cat. I am the reason for my own downfall.
I am an ugly, filthy man.
I hang my head in shame, refusing to cry because I do not get to accept the pity or sympathy that is rolling from Mia, because this was my doing and I will pay for it for eternity—and I deserve to.
I feel the urge she has to hold me, to pull me close and wrap her kindness and her warmth around me, but I refuse it, and she is aware of this to some extent for she never tries to do either thing. Instead she waits, staring at me, as if waiting for me to say something else. But there is nothing else to say. What other words can I use to express the deep debt that I owe to our queen—a debt that I shall forever pay, because I have seen what happens when a man does not pay his dues?
And I will never make that mistake again.
Ten.
Mia.
I lie on my bed, staring up at my ceiling—well, not my ceiling, but the ceiling. Because nothing feels like mine anymore. Not this room, not these clothes, not this body. And certainly not this stupid heart that, even though it's dead, continues to cling to the idea that I can love and be loved.
Evan has avoided me since our talk, and in some ways I guess I have been avoiding him too; not because of what he told me, but because the stupid and selfish part of me understands why he can’t be with me but still wants him—the part of me that still pines for him, still yearns for his touch, his lips and his hands on me. But I understand now that he will never give in to those urges. Not now. Not ever. And with remorse I will accept that, because I understand him now and I understand his loyalty to the Queen and what it would cost him to take that loyalty back.
It hasn’t helped that my stupid inner vampire is intent on making everything worse by mocking me at every turn. Since the talk the other night she has been livelier than normal, and I have been less aware of her until too late. It seems that she is intent on ruining this whole experience for me. Well, not experience, but life…or death, or whatever you want to call this. No matter what I do lately, she’s constantly there at my heels, nipping away and sucking the fun out of everything with her mind games.
I realise how crazy this all sounds, even if I am only thinking these things and not saying them out loud. After all, how can my inner vampire, who is in my head, play mind games on me? Surely by definition that’s impossible, and massively unfair.
I hear the telltale sound of the door at the end of the hall being opened and closed, and then footsteps walking swiftly towards my room. I know they are coming to my room because…I don’t know how, I just feel it. Like you can feel when someone is watching you, the constant caress of eyes over your flesh, and you turn but don’t see anyone there, but you know that someone was staring.
Before the sharp knock comes at my door, I hear it and I’m up and at the door, opening it wide as Evan’s large fist is about to come down hard on it. He looks put out that I answered it without him knocking, and
Silence fills the room, echoing around us like a black abyss. I don’t know that I expected her to say anything, or that there is anything left to say between us. I have shown her my ugly side, the side that I do not even like to admit to myself, the side that is so dirty that an eternity of washing could never make me clean again. I am the cause of my wife’s brutal murder, I am the reason my daughter grew up without a mother and father, believing that she was abandoned on some church steps like an unwanted cat. I am the reason for my own downfall.
I am an ugly, filthy man.
I hang my head in shame, refusing to cry because I do not get to accept the pity or sympathy that is rolling from Mia, because this was my doing and I will pay for it for eternity—and I deserve to.
I feel the urge she has to hold me, to pull me close and wrap her kindness and her warmth around me, but I refuse it, and she is aware of this to some extent for she never tries to do either thing. Instead she waits, staring at me, as if waiting for me to say something else. But there is nothing else to say. What other words can I use to express the deep debt that I owe to our queen—a debt that I shall forever pay, because I have seen what happens when a man does not pay his dues?
And I will never make that mistake again.
Ten.
Mia.
I lie on my bed, staring up at my ceiling—well, not my ceiling, but the ceiling. Because nothing feels like mine anymore. Not this room, not these clothes, not this body. And certainly not this stupid heart that, even though it's dead, continues to cling to the idea that I can love and be loved.
Evan has avoided me since our talk, and in some ways I guess I have been avoiding him too; not because of what he told me, but because the stupid and selfish part of me understands why he can’t be with me but still wants him—the part of me that still pines for him, still yearns for his touch, his lips and his hands on me. But I understand now that he will never give in to those urges. Not now. Not ever. And with remorse I will accept that, because I understand him now and I understand his loyalty to the Queen and what it would cost him to take that loyalty back.
It hasn’t helped that my stupid inner vampire is intent on making everything worse by mocking me at every turn. Since the talk the other night she has been livelier than normal, and I have been less aware of her until too late. It seems that she is intent on ruining this whole experience for me. Well, not experience, but life…or death, or whatever you want to call this. No matter what I do lately, she’s constantly there at my heels, nipping away and sucking the fun out of everything with her mind games.
I realise how crazy this all sounds, even if I am only thinking these things and not saying them out loud. After all, how can my inner vampire, who is in my head, play mind games on me? Surely by definition that’s impossible, and massively unfair.
I hear the telltale sound of the door at the end of the hall being opened and closed, and then footsteps walking swiftly towards my room. I know they are coming to my room because…I don’t know how, I just feel it. Like you can feel when someone is watching you, the constant caress of eyes over your flesh, and you turn but don’t see anyone there, but you know that someone was staring.
Before the sharp knock comes at my door, I hear it and I’m up and at the door, opening it wide as Evan’s large fist is about to come down hard on it. He looks put out that I answered it without him knocking, and
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