The pain of blaming oneself could consume a vampire easily if it is permitted to do so. But when a freshly warmed hand touches mine, I know it will not consume me tonight. With her eyes still black, Yen slides onto my lap. Her fingers push through my hair and traces crimson along my jawline. Heat surges through me, distracting me from feeling culpable. Surrounded by bodies in a tiny living room, she wants to take away my pain. And I will let her. I will let her take every part of me.
These are the journal entries of a centuries old vampire, Nicolas Rider. Welcome to his world...
Friday, August 23, 2019
October 1, 1591 – Ajaccio
The heavy scent of blood begins to have an effect on me that it rarely has before. Guilt. Not regret. Regret is a constant companion. No, guilt is different. It was not my choice to become a monster so the outcomes of being one is not often accompanied by guilt. However, I did choose this massacre and I chose it for selfish reasons. I am to blame for the death I feel in this home.
The pain of blaming oneself could consume a vampire easily if it is permitted to do so. But when a freshly warmed hand touches mine, I know it will not consume me tonight. With her eyes still black, Yen slides onto my lap. Her fingers push through my hair and traces crimson along my jawline. Heat surges through me, distracting me from feeling culpable. Surrounded by bodies in a tiny living room, she wants to take away my pain. And I will let her. I will let her take every part of me.
The pain of blaming oneself could consume a vampire easily if it is permitted to do so. But when a freshly warmed hand touches mine, I know it will not consume me tonight. With her eyes still black, Yen slides onto my lap. Her fingers push through my hair and traces crimson along my jawline. Heat surges through me, distracting me from feeling culpable. Surrounded by bodies in a tiny living room, she wants to take away my pain. And I will let her. I will let her take every part of me.
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