Interview With Vampires

chapter five

Celeste hadn’t wanted to turn me.

But Lucien had cried — actually cried — and Celeste eventually relented.

And now I was one of them.

A vampire.

---

The first real memory I have is the hunger.
It wasn’t like being hungry for food. It was like burning from the inside out. A clawing, scratching emptiness behind my ribs that made my fangs throb and my throat ache.

At first, I thought I could fight it.

Celeste scoffed. “They all think they can. Until they lose control.”

Lucien sat beside me on the floor of the music room. “You don’t have to fight it. You just have to learn to live with it. To shape it.”

That night, they took me hunting.

---

We found a man staggering home from a bar.
Celeste told me to wait. Watch. Listen.

I could hear the blood in his veins. I could taste it before I even touched him.

But I didn’t wait.

I lunged. I sank my teeth into his throat. The rush of warmth, the flood of his memories and fear — it was too much. Too good. He collapsed into my arms like a ragdoll.

Lucien pulled me back. “He’s a cop,” he hissed.

Celeste’s face was thunder. “Do you have a death wish? You don’t feed on police, government, or priests. You bring down centuries of survival doing something that stupid.”

I felt shame crawl up my spine like ice water.

But all I could think was: I want more.

---

I didn’t sleep much after that.
Lucien told me I didn’t have to. “Your body rests in pieces. It heals in darkness.”

So I wrote.

Celeste rolled his eyes every time he passed the library and saw me curled up with this diary. “He’s talking to the book again,” he’d grumble.

But Lucien smiled. “It helps him hold on to what’s human.”

And it did. For a while.

---

Lucien taught me how to use my powers.
We practiced mind reading — not just hearing thoughts, but feeling them, pulling emotions like threads. He taught me how to move silently, how to vanish in a blink, how to charm a room without saying a word.
I couldn't mind read Celeste cuz he was my maker, and he couldn't read me.

Celeste taught me strength — how to lift a car, how to throw a grown man across the street, how to break necks cleanly.

But he never said “good job.” Just grunts. Nods. Once, he smiled. That was the biggest praise I ever got.

---

One night, Lucien took me fishing.
It wasn’t for food. Just quiet.

The lake reflected the stars like a mirror. We sat in silence for almost an hour, just casting lines and letting the wind bite our cheeks.

Then I asked: “How does love work… when you’re like this?”

Lucien blinked. “Like what?”

“Dead. Cold. Monsters.”

He looked away, then said softly, “You’re not a monster. And love… love doesn’t care if you breathe or not. If it’s real, it stays.”

I didn’t understand what he meant then. But later, I did.

---

I turned eighteen three December's later.
They gave me permission to hunt alone.

Celeste was hesitant. “He still acts like a mortal.”

“He’s ready,” Lucien said. “He’s more careful than we were.”

I wasn’t careful.

That night, I wore my favorite black mesh shirt, laced boots, and eyeliner. I wanted to feel seen. Alive.

I ended up on a rooftop, listening to the cruel thoughts of boys two stories below.

Freak. Lives with a bunch of fags.

I almost jumped. I almost killed them all.

But then she appeared.

Jasmine.

A girl with fire-red hair and boots like mine. She smiled like she knew me, and I fell hard. Fast.

We met in secret. I told her I was allergic to sunlight. She laughed and said she was too (she wasn't).

One night, things went too far.

We kissed. We touched. She whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

And then I bit her.

I didn’t mean to.

But once it started… I couldn’t stop.

---

When I realized she wasn’t breathing, I screamed.
I carried her to the house. Begged Lucien to turn her.

“Please. Please. She didn’t deserve this. It was me—”

Celeste shook his head. “She wasn’t dying. You murdered her. That’s not the same.”

Lucien was silent. His eyes were glassy. But he didn’t argue.

“She loved me,” I whispered. “And I killed her.”

Celeste made me burn her. He said it was a lesson. That love and hunger don’t mix.

Lucien tried to stop him. “He’s a child.”

Celeste didn’t budge. “He’s a vampire.”

---

I didn’t speak to either of them for days.
I stared at the ashes behind the garden. Then, on the fourth morning, I walked into the sun.

The pain was instant — flames licking my arms, the skin boiling.

Lucien pulled me back, wrapped me in blankets, and held me on the floor as I screamed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve protected you from all of this.”

But I wasn’t angry at Lucien.

Not really.

It was Celeste I couldn’t look at anymore.

Not without seeing fire.

---

End of Diary One.

> Joe sat in the glow of his laptop screen, hands trembling over the keys. The sun had risen. The vampires were sleeping.

He stared at the last sentence, heart heavy, mind racing.

They weren’t just creatures of the night. They were a broken family. And Skyler Vale had been the youngest of them — the most human. And maybe the one who suffered most.

Joe closed the journal. Tomorrow, he’d read the next one. But not today.

Today, he’d mourn a boy who was never meant to die.