Now sitting here putting all of this on paper, I can't help but think that no one will believe me. From the day I awoke I knew I couldn't tell anyone the truth. I'd be in the crazy bin before I could even get my feet under me. But now the truth is going to be told. As for who believes it, isn't my concern any longer.

The pain is worse now. Sooner than I care to think, the end will come. I have written most of what needs to be told. Only the end of my story needs to be written.

An elderly woman found me in a ditch near the city park. She was out walking her poodle when the pure bred pulled away and trotted down the hill. She chased after him and when she saw the sight awaiting her, she said she started laughing. Anyone, including me, would call her morbid for laughing at a body with blood all over it but she held her ground. The first thing she saw was her poodle with a red head. It had started licking the blood and had made a mess of its fur.

"My first thought was that Fluffy had killed that young man," the woman told police later.

I was rushed to the hospital and after a brief two hour surgery I was placed in ICU. Three days later I was moved into my own room. That was when the questions began. From my parents, the doctor, my friend's families, and of course the police.

I don't know and I can't remember, quickly became my motto for that first week of interrogation. Either the police bought it or gave up entirely because I never saw them again in that room. Later I learned that the doctor had backed me up by saying it was common for people who been through serious trauma to have amnesia of it.

My dad brought me a newspaper. I scanned over the story about me. What it basically said was that an unknown animal had attacked and mauled a group of four teenagers. Only one survivor remained from the bloody mess. And weirdly the young man was found with basic medical attention that kept him alive until he could get proper medical attention. So far there is no lead as to who was the mysterious doctor. I threw the paper across the room in disgust. I remembered Jerry telling me one time that his dad was a doctor.

I was cleared for release the next day but the next morning held yet one more surprise. My dear old friend Jerry was standing over me when I awoke. My reaction was expectable. Twenty minutes later, after a strong dose of some tranquilizers, Jerry slipped into the room again.

"Before you go off again Eric, perhaps you should hear what I have to say first." Instead of answering I nodded but my finger hovered over the nurse call button ready if needed.

"Are you wondering why I let you live? No? Well it's really quite simple. I still need you," Jerry said. He walked over and sat down on the foot of my bed. "Don't get me wrong. I didn't want to stop once I started but my human brain won the argument with my stomach. 'You need him.' My head kept shouting until I started to listen."

"W-What for?" I asked exciting a smile from Jerry.

"Ah, so you don't know yet. I would think that you'd figured it out by now. But then again, you could just be denying it without realizing what you were doing." Jerry smiled. The pills the doctor gave me kept me calm enough so I didn't reach out and punch in his nose regardless of the consequences. Instead I just laid there listening to something my gut told me I didn't want to hear. "Remember when I said you were different? Well I was right, just not in the way I was expecting. The second my lips tasted your blood I knew. I knew what you were. So I limited myself to a tasty snack instead."

Jerry smiled again and when he did my phantom left arm started itching. I've heard stories about it but didn't know how bad it could get. The absolute worse feeling in the world had to be having a bad itch you can't scratch.

"You see my family and I differ in another way. Besides the obvious of course."

"What's that? You thirst for blood?" I said sarcastically but he ignored me.

"Let me ask you this. Have you been feeling any different lately? Any oddities that are new?"

"No."

"Are you sure? How about after eating lunch but still be unsatisfied afterwards and hungry for something else?"

"That's just because of the crap they call food here. If I had some real food I wouldn't be so picky. What does that have to do with anything anyways?" Distantly I heard a Dr. Pangly being paged to room 319, which was my room but I didn't register it.

Jerry stood up and walked over to the door. I thought he was going to leave and found myself praying he would but he turned around instead. What he said took me by surprise.

"You're not wearing your contact lenses." My mouth must have fallen open because he started to grin. How could he know? There was one thing I kept from the other guys in our group, that I needed glasses. I wore contacts so they wouldn't know and make fun of me. Even if Jerry somehow figured out I need them, he shouldn't be able to tell I wasn't wearing them now. He walked back to the bed but didn't sit down. He stood next to the I.V. pole staring at the dripping liquid inside.

"Eric, there's a minor group of people out there that posses one special quality that my family looks for. There's maybe only one per hundred thousand. You, like these few others have a rare gene that freely mutates if the right persuasion is given to it."

My eyes were starting to hurt, not to mention the headache that threatened to split my head apart. I was starting to get angry. "If you have a point, get to it."

"My family can't reproduce like normal humans. We're sterile. So we have to find these special people and inject our venom into them. So you see Eric, me and you aren't so different after all."

"What do you mean?" I asked even though a particularly nasty idea was forming in my head.

"You are one of these people," he repeated turning to face me and let the point set in before continuing. "When you fainted I basically impregnated you with myself, with the help of my dad. Well he's not really my dad but for appearance sake we pretend we're a nice little family. And the thing is Eric...you'll be joining us soon."

I shook my head. It couldn't be. Before I knew what I was doing my finger was jabbing the Nurse's button. From somewhere far away, it seems, I heard Jerry laughing. I closed my eyes, and was startled a minute later when the nurse rushed in. He was gone.

The nurse asked what was wrong. I put on a fake smile and told her I accidentally hit the button. What was I going to tell her? That a monster had just been in the room explaining how he had messed with my DNA and turned me into a freak? After she left, I was alone.

I haven't seen Jerry since.

Now.

It's been five days since I left the hospital. It's time to go. I can't hold it off any longer. As I write this last part of my story my arm is almost healed. I can wiggle the five fingers. You see, one of the benefits of becoming is regeneration.

My arm has grown back. All of my senses…better. The pain will…over…soon. The hunt…begins. The…prey will…die.

...and...the blood.