TW: BLOOD
He ran a hand through his ebony locks, which were kind of greasy and in need of a wash, as he walked with an intimidating pace. His eyes landed on a petite blonde girl that he had the strong desire to sink his sharp teeth into.
She looked like she had been on her way home from a club. Perhaps she could have been a stripper or prostitute on her way home after a long night of pleasing lust-thirsty men. She didn't seem very intoxicated, though; she seemed tired, in some sort of daze. Her platinum blonde cascade of hair fell to the middle of her back in loosely curled layers. She was dressed in a white dress that went down to the middle of her thighs, hugging her body in all the right ways. It was quite chilly and this poor girl wasn't wearing a jacket. Chris grew impatient. He couldn't wait to see what she would look like covered in her own blood. Her black high heels clicked against the concrete sidewalk which made his temptation grow tenfold. Chris needed food and he needed it bad. He picked up his pace and caught up with the frail girl.
Within seconds, he grabbed her and covered her mouth, dragging her into a conveniently placed dark and empty alley. It held a few dumpsters, other sorts of garbage, and probably inhabited some rats as well. The small blonde's screams were muffled against her predator's hand and she squirmed in his grasp, shivering as his cold hand made contact with her face. She was mortified, to say the least. Chris, on the other hand, was satisfied since he had been waiting to feed and he finally caught his meal. He wasn't a cannibal. He was much worse. More brutal. Far more merciless.
"Please, I'll give you whatever you want! Just let me go," She begged, in such shock that she could barely breathe properly, tears falling from her deep blue eyes. Chris had moved his hand from her mouth, making her voice audible.
"I don't think so," He growled lowly in her ear followed by a soft chuckle, causing goosebumps to rise upon her pale skin. "Fuck, you're so... appetizing. I can't wait to get a taste of you."
The man smirked as he held his fragile and confused victim close, her back pressed up against his chest. She flailed, kicking her legs and struggling to free herself from his firm hold. With his left arm, he tightened his grip around her busty chest which resulted in making the tiny girl wail as he snapped three of her ribs with his effortless squeeze. Chris hurried to cover her mouth again, to make sure no one could hear her crying and screaming for help. The petite body sobbed, her tears flowing down her fair cheeks and dripping onto the sleeve of Chris' leather jacket. Her tears dragged her mascara down her face, her red lipstick smudged across her cheek. It happened to be all over the palm of Chris' hand too. He moved his left hand so that he had a hold of her neck, squeezing it, making sure she had a difficult time breathing.
Her arms were now free so she elbowed Chris' torso as he choked her, since he was now just pressing his left arm against her chest to keep her up against him. She continued to kick her legs while Chris took his hand and moved strands of the girl's long blonde hair to the left of her neck, giving him a clear area to sink his sharp teeth into. Chris changed his grip again, his left arm wrapped around her torso to keep her as still as possible. He licked his lips as a smirk tugged at them. The small girl cried out once again as he made the first bite. He watched the blood drip from the fresh wound like the wax on a burning candle and he admired his bloody incision. He knew the pain that she was experiencing, knowing she would be completely numb soon. She gasped for air and choked through her tears. Chris hummed out of satisfaction as he fed, sucking every bit of life out of her neck.
He enjoyed her taste, savoring every single drop of the sweet crimson that poured from her arteries. With a final lick of blood from his lips, he was finished with her. A smiled spread across his face, a small bit of the girl's blood dripping from the corners, satisfied with his ninetieth victim. That wasn't a large number, then again Chris had only become the monster he is now a hundred-something days ago. He was considered a newborn, a mere fledgling, yet he quickly learned how to fully control his urges and hunger.
Chris then pulled a freshly sharpened hunting knife from his denim pocket. He brought it to the lifeless girl's neck. He dug it into the side of her throat, right over the spot his fangs were sheathed, to conceal his dark secret. He didn't want to expose his species with an act of carelessness. After his scene was transformed into that of an ordinary murder, he left the girl to rot in the dark alley. Chris slit her throat further and smeared blood onto her white dress, making tears and cuts into it here and there. A few strands of the girl's hair were stained red from her blood. The scene was quite gruesome, just how he wanted it. He made sure to wipe any excess blood off of his face before exiting the alley. Chris always made to be as neat as possible. But not with the body, of course. He was akin to the Pollock of murders.
He walked home, hands shoved deep into his jean pockets with his thumbs sticking out of the front, taking in the quiet scenery under the midnight moonlight. His black leather boots thudded against the concrete pavement and squeaked lightly as his lanky figure walked down the pavement.
He lived in an apartment building nearby and didn't mind the walk. Actually, he enjoyed this late-night stroll. He found it calming. Sure, it was a sketchy neighborhood, but he wasn't really worried about that anymore. He knew he was the most dangerous thing living there. He wasn't worried about the drug deals that went wrong, murderers that could possibly live in the apartment that was right beneath his, or even the rapist living in the apartment across from his, whose victims he could hear scream for help while everyone ignored them and minded their own business. They knew they should have done something about it but they would rather live than get shot by the felon who robbed women of their purity. Hell, Chris could crush a mortal's windpipe with a gentle squeeze of their neck, he didn't make it obvious, though. His tattooed body, three lip piercings, and the makeup he wore did make him look humanly dangerous but, in reality, he was so much worse.
Chris pushed open the rusted doors of his dingy apartment building. He nodded towards the fifty something year old man – who was exhausted and obviously regretted taking the night shift – that sat behind the front desk as a form of "hello" before he made his way towards the elevator door. His tattooed index finger pressed the up button, and the big metal doors opened. He stepped into the box and pressed the number six, and leaned his back against the wall, head thrown back and eyes closed.
The paint on the walls of the enclosed metal box was peeling off in every corner, surrounded by cobwebs. One of the railings was lying on the dirty floor after being broken off of the wall. It could have been used as a weapon for all Chris knew. The whoosh of the big metal doors opening notified Chris to open his eyes back up, push himself off of the wall, and exit the disgusting elevator. The hallways of the building weren't any better either. The wall paper was peeling, there were dents in the drywall, dirty shoeprints on the worn-out grey carpet, and much more.
Chris' long legs carried him to his apartment, number 669, though he originally wanted number 666. Of course, it was already taken when he had moved in. He didn't particularly like his apartment but he didn't hate it either. It was a roof over his head and it satisfied his needs. Plus, the rent was easily affordable. He didn't have a high paying job but he did make money. Currently, he worked as a bartender at night. It paid him a standard fifteen dollars an hour and he also received tips. This was the job that got him turned into a creature of the night. During the day he worked as a piercer in a tattoo shop which also made him a decent salary.
Chris dug his keys out of his pocket and they jingled, the sharp sound annoying him, as he unlocked the door before entering his apartment. He took off his leather jacket and laid it over the back of the beige couch. He made his way to the kitchen sink to thoroughly wash his lightly lipstick and bloodstained hands with his dish soap. Once he was more than sure that they were clean, he shut the water off and proceeded to dry them with a fresh paper towel.
His apartment looked quite lovely, to be quite honest. He furnished it with neutral colors like beiges, browns, and black – maybe a deep red accent here or there. Most would expect all black everything with chains and candelabras scattered throughout his apartment, considering he is a vampire, but he made it look cozy. Sure, he doesn't sleep but he would be in questioning if he didn't have a bed. It was nothing spectacular, just your standard queen-sized mattress with a comforter and two pillows. The bed usually went untouched unless if he was hooking up with a woman that he found attractive, which didn't happen often. His fridge was basically empty, it had a few bottles of water in it and some ice in the freezer. Good thing Chris never had casual company, they would have found him out from the start.
That would have been a disaster, he has thought about the consequences time after time. He always found himself reflecting on what had happened in these last three and a half months. He sometimes missed his old life but he'd grown so used to what he is now and couldn't see himself regressing back to his old self. He knew that it was impossible to fully do so.
Another thing he knew for sure was that he missed his Gaia. She was his beloved girlfriend of three years and he had finally popped the question back in March. Now, it's the middle of October and Gaia has been dead since mid-July. All because Chris just happened to be taking out the trash at the end of his shift that awful night. He even remembered how bad the bite stung, the man – whom he still doesn't know the identity of – had turned him into a monster, something that you would think only existed in fairy tales and urban legends. He was a walking, unsuspected, nightmare.
He remembered the excruciating pain he felt circulate through his whole body, the venom coursing through his bloodstream and contaminating every drop of his own blood. The way he fell to his knees behind the bar at which he worked and all the tears he shed that night were burned into his memory. When he arrived to his and Gaia's house that night, he was blood-thirsty. He didn't know how to handle his hunger, he was merely a newborn. His lack of control resulted in him lunging at his fiancée and killing her, drinking her blood and having to clean up the whole mess afterwards. Guilt and sadness were all he felt, it was his fault and he knew it. Soon after he had moved out of that house. All it did was remind him of Gaia and how much he missed her.
Since Chris was now unable to experience the sweet feeling of sleep, he has every hour of the day to be reminded of his biggest regret. Gaia was the girl of his dreams. She had pin-straight black hair that fell a few inches below her shoulder, flawless, pale, skin, a small frame that made her stand at least foot shorter than Chris who was an inch over six feet. She always had a contagious smile on her face. The two of them had many of the same interests and connected with each other so quickly, Chris never would have pictured himself getting married – let alone being in a committed relationship for more than six months – that's how he knew that she was the one. He had never felt such a strong love or appreciation for someone that wasn't his parents.
He tends to keep to himself now, in precaution to never make the same mistakes again, plus the fact that he'd convinced himself that love is a heaping load of bullshit. Though, he has learned to control himself and clean up after himself a lot better, he still never wants to take that kind of risk with anyone ever again. He never wanted to hurt himself by murdering someone he confided in. He broke his own heart and he didn't plan on fixing it.
To distract himself from the burden of his thoughts, Chris reads quite frequently, ranging from plays to autobiographies. Honestly, he was quite intelligent. He read things from most genres – he couldn't be picky since he had so much free time with almost nothing to do, when he wasn't working of course. Sometimes, he'll write his own things but they all go unfinished – works in progress is what he prefers to address them as. This was one thing he enjoyed about not needing to sleep, the leisurely reading and occasional writing, they were the only of few things that kept him occupied.
Chris often wrote of love, though he chose not to take part in the acts of it ever again. It was just one of the things he remembers genuinely enjoying. He often based his fictional romance pieces on his relationship with Gaia. It was quite unhealthy to hold onto someone for so long after they've gone but he just could not let go of her. He felt she was the only thing keeping him alive, even if she wasn't alive herself. He'll never forget her and he hopes her spiritual presence follows him during his eternity as a merciless killer until his time somehow comes.