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individulsong

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“Alright, alright.”

            “Olivia Benton, I am only doing this for your own good!”

            “Mother, you don’t understand!”

            “Your father would never approve. Darling, don’t make me out to be the bad person. I am only trying to help you.”

            “No, you’re not! You’re just trying to mark me as yours!”

            “I won’t have you gallivanting about at night with strange men!”

            “Mr. Vandoule is not strange! He’s perfect!”

            “Perfect? What do you know of perfection, Olivia? You’re young! You don’t know how to handle yourself in the world. And a dancer? Oh, please, Olivia! Get a head on those shoulders of yours.”

            “Why won’t you listen to me? You and father only see the bad in something that isn’t bad at all.”

            “Don’t ask why. There’s something that makes me uneasy about this situation. I love you. You’re my daughter. There’s nothing more important in my life. You must believe me.” If only I had believed her.

It’s a horribly sensational feeling. Walking around the night, seeing and hearing those you’ve never met, those you don’t care about, those you will kill. The kill comes naturally, very easy; seductive, even, in its manner. I suppose it is something of a dark nature, but once you’re catapulted into the experience, you can’t turn away. The hair, the looks, the skin, the smell, the blood. It’s all a part of the picture, and nothing satisfies more than to grip that moment, that one moment where you feel human again. The curse of darkness is only beautiful to an unsuspecting eye. The charm, the wit, the mysteriousness of it all. Something that can’t be explained but isn’t worth explaining. That’s the only beauty I see in it. The beauty in a person, a single person, is not beauty at all. It’s a lust for death, for pain, to crush bones beneath your hands and feel life elude from your victim, seeping into your mutilated veins. I would know. I do this every night. I am ashamed of my existence, but, as it is so in human nature, I will fight to stay existent. That is no different than any creature, is it? No, it really isn’t.

Struggle and pain are primitive findings that help balance out human nature. One cannot have more than one thing less than the other, for, according to boundaries of the Earth, the human population would combust. I do not mean explode, for human bodies do not merely explode unless under extreme conditions. What I mean is the mind will overload, won’t know what to do in situations considering the concept of evil or good. That is why there are both. Remember Adam and Eve? How do you think our religion, our kind, our voice began? The fruit hanging from the tree, extended further, made beautiful by a simple hiss from a pretentious snake, yes, in all the fruit’s core held all that was ever disagreeable to human nature. It was meant to be this way, for, if it were not, Eve wouldn’t have been seduced by something outside of herself. Free will, people call it. I agree to a point, but in my own experience I have found that when it comes to the fruit from the tree of this free will, it shadows your mind. You are no longer in control of how you feel, and what you do is based on how you think you feel, when really, in any other situation, you would know that it is not you. You are a piece of a puzzle, slowly being forged where you don’t fit, until, when all is done, you are stuck and tangled in a place where you don’t belong.

It was fast, but not impossibly uncomfortable. Olivia was unsuspecting, and in many ways, her perfection has grown from that simplicity she beholds in her forever youth. She underestimates me, says that I don’t understand her…but I do, my little sparrow, I know her. The woman she once was is angered by her oppression, but life is worth the little moments that change a person. I had her in a web of tiny pictures: what she could be, what she should be, her beauty sparkling before the eyes of strangers. It was something she had always wondered about. What would it be like to dance in front of an audience? What kind of people would they be? She always had confusions on this regard. She had the dream, but her parents fed her stories of long ago; prostitutes, whores, tainted with too much self-destruction, the touch of many. One cannot find those women attractive for perfection does not find its admiring power in the seemingly weak and abused. It surfaces in those who seek adventure without knowing which way to go about it. Ah, she believed me. Breathed into me her anticipation.

It was late one night, the lights from the lamps burning low. It was almost morning, and Olivia was tired. She had snuck out of her house, yet again, dragging with her, her dancing shoes and her dreadful cape. She tried to stand in close to me as we walked, to feel my warmth for she was shivering at the bone, but I would not let her touch me. It is true, that, in our many nights together, I had made it known to her in subtle ways that I found her extremely worth my attention, and she picked up my hints, on a human sub-level.

            “Please, my dear, you mustn’t come any closer.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, Mr. Vandoule. I’m cold, that’s all. Please, I wasn’t trying to…”

            “I know, child, but it is important that you not get to close to me.” She nodded her head. In her mind was a tumbling weed of confusion, but it didn’t matter. She would soon know, but until then, she needed to be unsuspecting. If she had come closer, she would have felt the shell of my body. No human has the skin of a statue, a repulsed and wretched scar of something I will never be again.

She and I walked briskly to the end of her street, for her house was just around the corner.

            “Shall I walk you to your door?” I knew I was going to do it, but it was just the timing I had to wait for.

            “Oh no! Please, that’s very kind of you, but if my mother or father should wake up, it would be best if they didn’t see you. They’ve never met you, but they are intent on finding you disrespectful.” Her eyes showed me her sincere apology.

            “I understand completely.”

            “Thank you, Mr. Vandoule, for everything.”

            “It’s nothing, my child.” She turned away from me, and, before she could unlock her front door, I was by her side in an instant. “What…?” I took her head forcefully in my hands, baring down, looking at the bulging vein on the right side of her neck. She cried out in surprise. It was one of those loud, silent cries, where it could be heard, but no one would make anything of it; a cat cry, a helpless beast. No hope at all. Humans, as wondrous as they can be, are also very selfish. If it is not important or immediate to them, they will not budge. It’s a survival instinct, more than anything, but in respect of the knowledge they have obtained, they still keep to themselves.

Tears began to stream down her face, leaving streaks on her perfect, porcelain skin.

            “Do not be afraid. It will only hurt for a moment.” I could feel her life in my hands, the tremble of her frightened body. The fear, the power of it all! I had fantasized and wanted this for so long! I bent my head down and pierced her skin. She screamed, but only loud enough for me to hear. It might have even been in her head. She grabbed onto me, surfing the pain, but it isn’t really pain. It’s a rush, a rush of excitement and pleasure, even though your human body gets weaker and weaker. I pushed her body to me, felt the warmth of her on my rigid skin. I could hear her breathe.

My eyes flashed open before me. I saw her life, her dreams, her loves, her wants, her passions, her family. I grabbed her tighter and tighter, sucking harder and harder. I let go at the end when Olivia slumped in my arms, eyes open wide, starring up at me as blood dripped from my revealing fangs. She had no energy, and barely any life. I slit my arm with my teeth.

            “Why?” That was all she could manage.

            “Drink, my love.” I put my arm up to her lips. She whimpered quietly as she sucked my arm, half repulsed, half engaged in the sensation of something different, something she had never expected to feel. I knew she could feel her insides change within her. She ached all over. Her aura had changed, tainted with my darkened bite, but to me, she was and still is perfection. Nothing has changed about her. Beauty is still beauty. I picked her up and she began to shut her eyes.

            “I don’t understand.” She said quietly.

            “Just rest for now.” I kissed her gently on the lips. She put her head on my shoulder, and I walked with her, finally knowing she would be with me forever.