I AM, by Helen A. Howell

“You made me. You are my creator.”

I didn’t want this for myself. It just happened. Now he calls me his child. I would have ripped his heart out and crushed it in my hands, but I needed him to show me the way. I woke to this new reality like a child being born; torn from the warmth of its mother’s womb and tossed into the cold world of its existence. For in life is death and in death, another life.

Those first waking moments were pain filled, as a hunger surged through my body. But he whispered soothingly to me and offered me my first drink. From that my fate was sealed. I had no choice. No, that’s not true but I didn’t realise it wasn’t.

He handed me a beautiful evening dress and cape and told me to change. He said we would be dining in only the best places. I changed. Some part of me hated him, wanted to destroy him here, now. But another part of me knew I couldn’t, shouldn’t, not yet. He, already wearing full evening dress, took my hand and led me out into the cool night air. I walked silently beside him through the dark cobbled streets. We were like shadows, there, yet unnoticed by those who passed us. The sound of their blood pumping through their veins echoed in my ears long after they had gone. A fire burned within me and a need to feed it became stronger with every breath I took. He seemed to sense my want, smiled and murmured, ‘Not long now my child.’

Time was like an illusion as we travelled the distance from one end of town to the other, in what felt like only moments, to arrive in front of an exclusive club. The doorman acknowledge him and opened the door to let us enter. Inside people were gathered, drinking, laughing, some around gaming tables. He surveyed the room and keeping a tight hold on my hand, headed towards a couple sitting ensconced within a seating booth on the far side. It appeared that we could see through objects others could not. We arrived as the young couple were clinking their glasses of champagne together. He introduced us and within seconds had cast his spell over them. They did as he asked like puppets whose strings he could pull at will. Pushing me towards the young gentleman he said, ‘Eat, you won’t taste finer blood than in the aristocracy.’ The young man tilted his head and opened his arms. I embraced him with my fangs, sinking them into is jugular. I drank deep that night, still inexperienced and uncontrolled, I drank, till there was no more to drink.

I stayed with him for several years until I learnt all that I needed to know. Then having grown strong, I held him in my arms and looked into his eyes.

‘You made me. You are my creator. You gave me this life, but you never asked me if I wanted it, did you?’

He opened his mouth to reply, his eyes searching mine. But before he could speak, I punched my hand through the wall of his chest and ripped out his heart. It still beat as I held it. I watched before squeezing my fingers around it and crushing the last life out of it.

I think of what I did to him and I feel that some small essence of my humanness existed then and perhaps still does. For now, I live my life as it is in the darkness of the night, never to feel the warmth of the sun kiss my skin again. I do not kill my victims anymore. I just take what I need and make them forget.

I am controlled, I am seasoned, I am—Vampire.

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