What if everything we knew about our past, wasn't what we thought? What if everything we worked so hard for, wasn't how we came to accomplish it? There are two sides to every story, but what if no one knows anything about that other side? It is time someone told about that other side and how it threw everyone's life into a different perspective.
Dedicated to my personal Alice. Forbidden Bloodlust forever.
Introduction
My name is Asher "Micah" Saint. The way I came to be is not a happy story, it is not a love story, in fact, it is not even finished. My story is possibly the most dreadful story you will ever hear and I will understand if you press Alt+F4 right now.
Very well, this story begins, very commonly, with a baby being brought into this world in a small town in Ireland. The mother and father were a happy couple. When I was months old, my mother wanted to live in Monaco, France. "It's the most beautiful city in the World!" My mother would shout out with her hands above her head. My father, he lived to please her, so we were living in Monaco by my first birthday.
My life continued in a normal manner. I was actually a happy young man. I married a beautiful woman with whom I had an even more beautiful son. When I was 22, I told my parents that my family and I were moving to Ireland. I wanted to explore the place where I had been born. My mother cried tears and my father looked at me disgusted, as if to say, "How could you make your mother cry?"
Needless to say, I lived happily as a photographer, in Ireland. My wife and son loved it as well. Of course, on my 23rd birthday I receive a letter from my father informing me my mother has died of an illness I never knew she had. After her funeral, my father moved in with me. He spent his days drunk to his nose. And at the mark of her having been dead for a year, well, that is when my life ended and the term 'existence', came to replace it.
I awoke in the middle of the night with my father standing over me. He'd been missing for days and I was ready to ask where he had been but something wasn't right. His eyes were glowing red and I immediately knew he was gone. He was no longer my father but something, something not human. I reached for my wife, ready to tell her to run but my hand felt something warm and sticky. I looked over and her neck was torn and bloody. She was dead. My wife, she was dead! Slaughtered like a pig. My heart clenched and I already knew that the silent night was filled with my family's death.
I wanted to see if he was still alive, my son, but I didn't want to risk bringing this monster to him. The creature that had once been my father hissed and it sounded as if he were saying, "Weak. Too weak." Trying to decipher what he'd said distracted me and in a second he was on top of me. With strength I never knew I had I pushed him off of me and he flew through the wall-sized window. He landed on the sharpest piece of marble you will ever see and it pierced his right shoulder. Blood spattered out of his mouth and I scrambled out of the broken window after him. He got up as if it were only a scratch and spat at my face.
I inhaled and blood swam up my nose and down my throat. My flesh was burning wherever the fluid touched and I grabbed my neck. It passed soon enough and when I looked up, my father was gone. I didn't know it at the time but I was turning. I spent two days sick to the death and when I awoke the third morning. I felt better then I had, ever. I knew what happened to me then. I knew what Maxwell, my father, had done.
I didn't bury my wife and son; I didn't have the stomach to even see their bodies, so I ran. I have all of the abilities a vampire does: the speed, the marble hard flesh, and the heightened abilities. Even an extra ability that will be explained as my story unfolds.
Due time, I found Maxwell. He was somewhere in New York feeding on a human and I didn't even give him the pleasure of the meal. I killed him as fast as I could. 4 seconds.