Blood.
The very sound of the word makes people shiver or flinch, mainly because of their dislike for it.
The sight of it is worse, making people turn away, faint, or, in some cases, even puke.
It is this, however, out of some other things, that make me unique.
This very thick, dark colored liquid that so many detest is my very being.
Unlike the others, I crave for it.
I have a great need for it.
Blood.
The sound, the sight, the feel, the smell, the taste… Everything.
Blood...
The crimson red color that people dislike hearing or seeing, the unique smell of metal that can only be made by blood, the feel of blood that is thick and fluid, the taste of blood that is similar to one of iron...
Without it, I wouldn't be able to live.
I often wonder what it would be like if I hadn't discovered what I was… If I hadn't seen what I saw. But then I realize that if I hadn't, I would have no point of living and would be like every other person out there in the world: Lifeless, drained, selfish, docile, humane (if that's what people think humane is, anyway)... I would be just like them.
But I'm not.
If no one knew better, they would call me a monster, sometimes even go further than that to call me a murderer.
I could be called a monster, but I like to call myself more like... An artist. Or, one with creative ideas that involve blood, not really a monster but I'd even accept demon. No, I'm not a monster per say; I just have cravings just like any other person.
Except, I'm not a person. I'm much more than that.
One could call me a murderer though, I suppose. But am I really a murderer when I'm doing good in the world?
It's difficult what one could call me. I'm an oxymoron, filled with contradictions. But I'm certainly not a person, nor am I a monster.
No, I'm a cop. To be specific, a forensics cop. I help uncover cases that are related to genocide and blood.
There is some irony of what I am, however.
I'm a cop who does good, but am a killer who goes around seeking blood.
Oh yes, I am familiar with the irony of being a vampire.
I do good and help solve crimes, but at night become the murderer that I am, the artist that I am rather. I kill with such efficiency that it is art; it must all be done by a certain ritual, a certain way, or else it's all wrong.
First, I must find a person, man, woman, or even vampire like myself who has done wrong in this pathetic world.
Second, and this is important, I must affirm that they are criminals of any way.
Third, I stalk my prey until they are alone and in a secluded place.
Fourth… Well, I think the picture is seen here. Just thinking of vampires leads us to imagine one clinging onto the neck of another person.
Except, it isn't as simple as it seems.
Biting into others necks causes' suspicion and obvious marks, showing trails that someone had drained their life by biting. It could cause a suspicion of the existence of vampires, which would be bad- the less they know, the better it is for us.
My method is much cleaner, more efficient, and much more beautiful.
I like males better than females, mainly because they are more of a challenge.
I tilt their heads back and ask if they know what I am, then I show them my fangs and watch the fear and denial in their eyes. When they respond, or don't respond at times, I pretend I'm about to bite into their necks and instead drag my fangs against their skin, soft enough to not cause obvious signs but sometimes hard enough to draw blood; I don't want to show signs of my being.
By this point, my eyes usually turn from my soft, warm brown eye color to a red brown, one that reminds me of damp cherry tree shavings.
My victim would want to scream, or perhaps even try to struggle, but my strength is much more than a humans and I always gag them, in case they do try to. I always think out my plans ahead of time.
To avoid showing my method of kill, I stab or slash in random places of their body: Head, tongue, shoulder, arm, stomach, back, legs… Anywhere.
I usually try to stab where the arteries are so that it makes it easier for me to drink their blood, but if I don't it doesn't matter; blood is blood. Food is food. Cravings are cravings.
There is more, but I don't wish to give my sacred art secrets away. How am I to know my secrets won't be used for selfish reasons? But more to that, it's more of a surprise anyway...
It's fascinating to watch their bodies that were once fighting against me in fear to grow limp and pale, until finally becoming lifeless.
If I wanted to, I could bring them back to life and become the forever undead. Not vampires like myself, but more like zombies. But that sort of life is torturous, and I hate giving that choice unless it's absolutely necessary. Besides, it would be annoying having to feed them and take care of them like a fucking pet; there are enough of them in the world that it makes me sick.
And yet, even being the artist I am, I cannot bring myself to kill these creatures of the non-living. Despite the hard, heartless being that I am, I cannot dwindle down the numbers of them. It may be because they are the creations of my kind, but even so, I can only kill and drain humans.
Blood...
I've had quite a few interesting cases so far, some that intrigued me so that I almost didn't want to kill them, and others that I really didn't want to kill them their art was so well preserved and beautifully done. I've also had obvious killers, and there are few that I made mistakes of.
But very few know of what I am capable of, and even less know of what I am.
And the ones who do know, they're already dead.