Am I a monster?
I walk alone at night. Surrounded by darkness. Swallowed by it. The sunlight burns. It hurts. It makes my skin blister and turn to ash.
I kill to survive. To quench my ever present blood thirst. I did not want this. I did not choose this. I should be dead. I want to be dead. I need to be dead. Instead I am undead.
I do not mean to kill but I cannot stop. I may never stop. I try. I always try. But the more I do the more people I kill.
My fangs sink through the soft skin on their necks. Right on the artery. Warm blood touches my tounge and I swallow. And gag. And choke. But I cannot stop. I so want to stop.
They fight me. Claw at me. Kick at me. Then they go limp. Then I let them go and they fall to the ground. And stay there. I fall with them to my knees and cry. I repulse myself. I despise myself. I loathe myself.
This was done to me by a man in black. I did not know him. He did not ask. Now I am being hunted.
They hunt be like I am an animal and I run. I should turn back and let them kill me. I deserve it. But I never do.
This was done to me. It was not my fault. I try to be good. I try so hard. It was the man in black. He is the monster...
Or am I the monster?