Imagine an eternity of loneliness.
Now make it reality.
Centuries of loneliness, centuries of loathing, enemy to everyone, foe to anyone – this is the fate all vampires face.
Now imagine that you are a vampire, and that you have just discovered a means to lessen your suffering, a method to ease your pain.
The discovery would be accidental, of course. After all, you were just defending yourself, your continued existence, pathetic as it is. The instinct for survival runs strong in all of us, like it did then. Driven by necessity, you fought tooth and nail against your attackers, until they were finally driven back by your ferocity, their blood lingering on your tongue.
And the taste of their blood was glorious.
Heady and intoxicating, sweet and tasting of summers spent under lazy suns, of companionship and laughter, home and comfort, it tastes like life, and for one blissful moment you regain all the things you lost. But when the taste fades from your tongue, what then? A return to the pit of despair that is your existence, the loneliness, the emptiness, the hollowness of before.
And that would be unbearable.
So every moonless night, you creep out of your clammy cave and slip through the city, marking your targets, each of them young and vivacious, filled with hopeful dreams, and wait patiently for the perfect moment, that particular instant when they become most vulnerable, before snatching them away for a tiny bite.
But soon enough, one small bite is not enough to slake your thirst, so you take a larger bite, just a little more blood, and bit more, and some more, until you reach the point where the blood from just one body is not enough – you need two, three, four to even begin to quench your thirst. But the thirst is merely satisfied for the barest of moments before it returns, renewed, with doubled intensity.
You dare not skip a single night for the pain, the agony, of going without is too much to bear and survive once more. You slay many to quench that omnipresent thirst, but it continues to grow and grow, a never-ending gnawing need.
And so you continue to kill to feed your thirst, your addiction.
Oh yes. Blood is an addiction, one you slaughter for – slaughter, and enjoy the act of slaughtering.
The death toll rises uncontrollably, yet you continue to kill until every man, woman, and child within your reach lies dead, their blood drained to slake your never-ending thirst. You murder until every drop of blood has been wrenched from every single corpse, until there is no more blood to be had.
Until you are forced to face the fact that you have become a monster.