Death has followed me everywhere I go. I was unable to let go of it no matter where I went or who I was with and eventually it became familiar for death to be around. It followed me down every hall and claimed pieces of me for every life I took. I became familiar with it. Eventually it claimed me, it's cold teeth sunken into the flesh of my soul, intoxicating me, and with each life I took or destroyed the more I became like death. And somewhere along the lines I began to enjoy its cold touch.
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Blood stained the walls in the mansion they turned from white to red with every cry. It dripped from the chandeliers and I could feel it's warmth on my skin. It was like a drug and I slowly lost sense of everything. I ran from room to room, up and down stairs but there wasn't anyone in the entire manor that was breathing. Everywhere I went and every corner I turned there was someone I recognized drained of their blood and cold to the touch. I remained alive despite me begging for death to strike as well. The breath still flowed from my lungs and I could still move my legs and run through the empty hallways of my home. I longed for death to take me into its deadening grasp and erase all the pain.
Just a day ago, everyone who lived in the mansion was still alive and warm with their blood flowing through their veins. The maids and butlers were scurrying along completing their work just as they did every day for the ten years I've lived in the manor with my family. We were the noble family of Alberola. Before I was born, my blood flowed with a unique power that came from us alone and protected us for centuries.
As I stepped forward, I tasted iron and tears. Death approached me with each staggering pace I took. There were no more screams and pleads in the halls and rooms of the now silent Alberola manor. The blood of the people in my home was on my hands. It stained my clothing and tainted my skin. How did this happen? Where did everything go wrong? I'd given up now and crumpled to the ground. I fell
down in defeat on the slick floor. Rooms were dark and windows were covered with blood that seemed to be oozing out of the walls from the blood of the dead I had slaughtered. I distinctly felt the cold breath of death on my neck, his cold beckoning to me, calling me.
"Do you wish to live child?" His words shocked me and I looked at him in confusion. "No" I said back, though it came out as more of a squeak than a fully formed word as it left my mouth. Standing beside me I could still feel death standing right beside me. I never thought he would stick with me for the rest of my life, but he seemed to have grown fond of me.