I could see her blood splattered on the ground, her piercing blue eyes watching me. It hurt too much to remember her like that, but I was drawn to that gore memory. It was thrilling to imagine her beautiful body, now disfigured beyond recognition, lying motionless on the dirt.
Because she was a liar.
Why would she lie to me? It was her own fault what happened. I didn’t have a choice.
I loved her, I did, but she couldn’t love me.
She lied to me.
Still, I tried to be gentle, to kiss her softly. I tried to say goodbye one last time. Had she not resisted me and her perfect body wouldn’t have been ruined, and I could have been gentler. Everything would be better now; I would feel better now.
I drained her until I couldn’t anymore. I’d wanted to do that for so long! Her taste sent jolts trough my muscles and transported me to some other moment in time. I felt everything much more strongly. My senses sharpened and for those tiny seconds of pure pleasure I was someplace else I never knew existed. I felt what it was to live. I felt how it would be to be human!
Oh, how I loved her, and how she tried to fool me.
When I found her so long ago, alone and lost in the woods, at first I was scared. I had never seen one of her kind before. She wasn’t supposed to be alive anymore. This was our world now. Nevertheless, I was always patient with her, I let her explain to me how she had survived the Great Plague. Little could I have guessed at the time all the filth she was feeding me.
But she couldn’t fool me.
She had red hair and the most alluring red lips, her face looked almost alight in the darkness like none of ours could. Every part of her warm body enticed me, from her delicate skin to her bosomy shape. And yet I never succumbed to my thirst for her, I never made her bleed for me. Every time I saw her I proved my love for her, never having tasted her blood. Never even touching her without love on my fingertips. She was mine, and I treated her right. I gave myself to her. I was in awe by her existence, by her uniqueness. Except… she wasn’t unique. She was using me. She was one of many, not my single possession.
I loved her, but she betrayed me.
Had she told me where the rest of her people were hiding and I could take care of them myself. I would be a hero. I would even ascend to the High Order.
That treacherous bitch had trapped me; she had made me love her. She knew that if I told anyone about her I would be punished for my actions. The Elders had decreed the torture and execution of any survivor and of anyone of us who would harbor them. So, I can’t do anything but hope I haven’t been too careless. The coming rains will wash her away from this world before anyone finds traces of me on her body. And I will be all right.
Everything will be all right.