Pain is what we cause. It is the only thing we know, I know, how to do. Whether it be pleasurable or corruptible; whether it is temporary or permanent, pain is a momentous force that changes a being’s mind, soul, and spirit. Pain is the only thing at the end. Pain is what drives a perfectly normal, sane, loving man to be a psychotic, depressive madman. Only pain can bring a person to the peak of their will. Why? Because it allows them, to endure….
“Let me tell you of my past, Alicia, so that you may understand the present of the individual that stands before you.”
I am an unbiased deformity, neither demon nor vampire. I am a mixture of both races due to the unique prophecy concerning my birth. My human form is that made of sexual driven desire and delight. My true form is not that of a redeemer but an atrocity. Really I believe I am the Devil’s reincarnation. As Christ is to come back into the world, so am I. In human flesh. In human blood. I am death.
I awaken. The pang of bloodthirst has never hit me so hard. I feel like I am an old man, drained of life and zeal. I change my position to look at my body before me. My alabaster skin clings to my porcelain bones. My wavy glistening silver hair is now the color of xanthous waste. I am almost lost in the state of condition that my body is in, when the bloodthirst reminds me of what I must to do. So I rise. I soon flit towards the city gates; my fangs unsheathe and extend in the promise of blood. I hunt. With my senses heighten and my agility swift, I soon find myself a pliable victim, a desolate beggar. I lift the sleeping beggar and throw him to a near-by wall. His spine cracks. His body sags in my arms as I bite the man. His feeble attempt to thwart me was ridiculous and useless. As his life diminishes, my life rekindles like a flame burning bright. I walk away from the corpse, frivolous and sated.
I lay on a wall in the park as I wait for my recollection to begin. I’m not disappointed as my memories come rushing back to my consciousness. I remember my life from birth to now. I remember my mother’s glowing smile to the last whisper of her son’s name. I remember my father’s loyalty to my mother all to the day of his fatal betrayal. I remember my childhood:
Alone and desolate I was born. Alone and desolate I became. From childhood to adolescent my thoughts and emotions stayed within me. I played the role of poser and con-artist to the world around me. But the consciousness of my “inheritance” came some years ago:
I was sleeping with one of my rental girls when my mind goes into the same nightmare I have had since I was little. I see a woman screaming, I see bodies and organs everywhere; I see a child, a little boy covered in blood. I wake up, clutching my throat.
“What’s wrong, darling?”
“Nothing go back to bed.”
“Well you need something to distract your mind…” she says caressing lower places.
We engaged in sexual interactions when I heard someone screaming.
“Did you hear anything?” I said looking around.
“No I didn’t hear anything, come on I’m almost there…”
We continued our enticing deed when I saw blood everywhere. I pushed her away from me.
“Get out.”
“What?”
“GET OUT!”
I screamed writhing in pain as she left the room. Incisions and wounds trailed across my skin in a morbid design. I was found on my bed, in sheets drenched of my own red blood, unconscious.
Later, revived and the engravings bandaged, I talked to my adopted, uncaring family, who just came to see if I was still breathing and left. No later, Laura paid an unexpected visit.
“Laura, it’s been so long. What do I owe this visit?”
“My mother died yesterday.”
Laura’s mother was the lady who raised me when I was found abandon on her doorstep. She was the only person who really cared for me.
“I’ll miss her.”
“It’s okay, I’m okay. She told me before she died to give this to you. She said she discovered it with you when she found you in front of our house.”
She handed me a mahogany chest. As soon as I clutched the chest, I had a flashback of the same woman in my dream.
“Are you alright? You’re eyes rolled to the back of your head and your forehead was bleeding.”
I saw the bloody towel next to me.
“I’m fine, thank you. I just need to rest.’
“Okay,” she left.
I tried to sleep but I could not, the events of the day still plagued my mind. An hour had passed when my mind was thrown askew and my body consumed with seizures. At the end of my attack, my blood lay splattered on the floor.
“We must eradicate you of that implacable blood.”
The woman from my memory stood before me.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I am your mother, Daemon, I gave birth to you.”
“You?”
I took the time to examine her carefully, in which I saw our resembling features.
“My time is short for this is only one of my memories, which you from time to time will receive until you are fully altered. Daemon, you are a vampire. Not like those of your humane beliefs and folklore but of a different standard. But unfortunately, my son you are not completely “all” vampire. You are also half demon. Because of your “deformity,” the vampire world will stay far away from you. Take care, my son, my memories will help you.”
This was an essential period in my life. The memories of my mother were locked away in a mahogany chest, ready to help me in my time of need. My mother was an influential figure in my growth. With the recollection of my past, a breeze in the wind, I face my future bold and daring.
Another day ends and night replaces. At night, creatures come to embrace the nocturnal stillness called nightfall; that is when death comes out to play. I decide it is time to have a little fun and get clothed. I open my closet to an abridgement of styles, of the modern gothic world, to try and chose an outfit to wear. I consult the mirror about a reasonable outfit that matches my appearance. My mother’s raven black hair and Spanish ancestry blended well with my black tank top underneath my black fishnet shirt and spandex leather pants. My father’s blue sapphire eyes, straight hair and manly physique assured others I was a man. I knocked the door of one local circuit raves held by one of the undead named Thomas. I came to diminish my hunger of human innocence.
Choosing a victim is the most complicated thing I do. Vampire’s have the tendency to prefer prey relative to their lost humanity or past. These circumstances I avoid. I scan the mortals at the party: the willing, the whores, the curious and the corrupt. I avoid them, just as my “kind” avoids me, just like a plague. I go to Thomas, he knows my preference for my quarry: Innocent.
I hunt the innocent. I hunt their innocence, their purity, their absentness of everything morally wrong. Their light warms my little black heart; blood, body and soul. Thomas brings a nine-year-old girl before me. An “early bloomer”. With passion in my eyes, my fangs unsheathe. I lift her in the cradle of my arms. She swoons as I lick her neck. I taste her. I can feel her body tighten as if she holds me within her. I drench my fill and drop her body in front of Thomas and leave.
I walk towards the city park. Just like Charon I permit the deceased to hell. I get on the highest hill and remove my garments. As I recite the invocation, changes occur: Through my minds eye I can see my Aramaic incisions across my body, my hair, silver, thin and silky as spider’s thread and my eyes the color of red rubies. Apart from my “birth defects,” the symbol of anarchy is in my left palm and the vampire symbol in my right. I called the souls of the deceased into me and like steam they disappear.
I drift the rest of the night, watching the mortals waste away their lives. Watching the mortals worry about things of irrelevant importance in their lives. I turn into an alley and I see vamps feasting on a woman. As I progress towards them, the vampires flee away from my presence. As I turn back towards the corpse, I see a child standing over the body.
“Mommy…”
A ten-year-old girl with honey-dew eyes and obsidian hair stares at me with despair in her eyes. She starts to cry, and I walk away. I thrive on their incorruptibility but I will not be sucked into it. I walk away. I walk away from a light that illuminates even the darkest of nights.
I go to sleep. It is the only thing that is left for me to do. I cannot pretend to assimilate with a race that abandons any relation or connection to me. Alone and desolate I became, alone and desolate I am. Humans and vampires do not concern me.
Alicia
My father, my only guardian alive, was a wanton driven man. He fed on my youth and innocence as if I was an elixir of immortality. My parental unit was a “a pimple on the chin, a devil within.” On the outside, we contained and portrayed the belief of a love shared between a father and daughter but on the inside, he made sex for a child at the age of seven a traumatic thing. I had stopped fighting him; I had stopped caring a long time ago; when hope left me all alone.
My mother used to live with father and I. She was an alcoholic but she loved me. We would go everywhere and see all the sights together. Nevertheless, one day she did not have any money and she was desperate to get intoxicated. So desperate that sold her body for alcohol.
My mom came up to the wrong people that night. She made the deal and the man grinned mischievously at us. He went straight up to her and licked her neck. My mom thought she was getting the better end of the deal, but she thought wrong. The guy fiercely bit my mother, ending her life short. He walked towards me, blood gleaming against his white teeth, when another man appeared. This guy was different…...strange. His darkness, his emptiness filled the mild torment that I went through daily. Nevertheless, like that grave, deafening, nocturnal silence, he left me. Alone, void and bare for all the world to see. A child crying for her mother.
My dad never loved me. I was the obstinacy, the disease, the curse cast on my family; at least that was what I was told. My dad blamed me for my mother’s death. He continued to molest me. He treated me like shit, stripped me of privilege of being a child and thrusted me to independence. This all stopped on my eleventh birthday. For my eleventh birthday every one was acting weird, I was dressed into a well condition attire, I took a shower My father had thrown me a “surprise” birthday, little did I know it was a surprise going away gift. My family and their friends came to wish me goodbye in the form of birthday party thrown on my behalf. They should not have. At the end of my party, my father came to tell me to go to his room. I was scared; he has never called me into his room. When I got there, my father locked the door.
“Alicia, you look so stunning…”
He threw me to the bed, gently stripping my off my loins.
“Do you know why we did this for you?”
“No, Father”
He smacks me. “I told you to call me Master in bed,” he said caressing my breasts.
“No, Master”
“You are going away; we had sold you to the highest bidder. He likes you Alicia, he needs you, you will finally be out of our hair…but guess what?” said Master.
“What, Master?” said the slave. I moaned, he was licking me, filling me.
“Alicia, you are leaving tonight.”
He thrusted hard into me, pounding his throbbing, hot dick into me, making it hurt.
“I will have you tonight, before you leave.”
I cried. Half of the pain, half of the pleasure. I cried. Ignorance didn’t help me, I was leaving the only place I was familiar with, the only place I knew. He left me naked, raw and sore, he left me to die, and death came, all in black, and swept my body away.
I awoke with the touch of hands across my body, in my body. I screamed.
“Don’t scream, Alicia. You are in safe hands”
I looked at the person who was speaking. It was the man from my party, the man who kept staring at me.
“Alicia, my name is Remus. I am your new master.”
Remus was five feet eleven inches, brown hair, brown eyes and a sleek man.
I cannot go underground. I cannot enjoy the heavenly bliss of slumber for the pass three centuries.
-HIGHLIGHT FOR THE INVISIBLE PARTS | 
