He stared at the girl sitting opposite him. Her skin was an unnatural shade of white, her hands delicate, with long fingernails. Her fingernails were dirty. Underneath there was dried blood and skin. On her slender arms were the severs where she had dug her fingernails into her flesh and dragged them down the length of her entire arm. She wore the standard hospital gown, even though she had brought an entire suitcase to the hospital when she was admitted. Her lips were cracked, dried, almost parched.
"My name is Dr. Kennedy," he said to her from across his finely polished desk. He was a young man of the age of twenty-two. This was his third patient since he had taken the job in London's topnotch psychiatric hospital. He had just gotten used to the strangeness of the place. It's quietness, with the occasional moans and screams of the troubled patients who had been admitted. It was usually eerily quiet. Not a breath could be heard.
The girl pulled a cigarette from her robe's pocket and lit it. She stared out the window, her two fingers balancing the cigarette in-between. She closed her eyes.
Dr. Kennedy opened the beige folder in front of him. He propped his spectacles on his nose at a more comfortable angle and read.
"Aviva Fleur," he said out loud. "What a pretty name." The girl didn't say a word.
"Your eighteen, so I expect you checked yourself into this hospital?"
Aviva did not reply. She puffed on her cigarette slowly. Dr. Kennedy leant back on his chair and put his hands behind his head, crossing his legs in front of him.
"Why did you admit yourself in this hospital, Aviva?"
"I'm not a nutcase," she blurted out suddenly.
"If your not, then why did you admit yourself into this hospital?" he asked calmly.
"You wouldn't understand," she said softly. "You would never understand."
"It says here that you claim you were a vampire," he said to her, with a chuckle. She looked to the ground, her body tensing.
"Yes," she said. "I was."
"So you used practice the occult, worship Satan, and drink blood?" Dr. Kennedy rocked back and forth on his chair. Aviva turned her head back to the window and flicked her cigarette of the ashes that had built up at the end.
"I told you you'd never understand," she sighed. "I thought I had to confess my secrets and I would be cured."
"That's correct."
"Well that," she said, "is pure bullshit."
"Where are you originally from?" he asked, changing the subject quickly.
"Paris."
"I went there for holidays last summer. France is a beautiful country," Dr. Kennedy said, trying to make conversation.
"Not the one I know," Aviva whispered.
"And what is the France that you know?" he asked.
"A France with poverty like you've never seen before, and death, and disease."
"Seems to me like your talking about the France hundreds years ago," he said. Aviva's lips seemed to part to form a small smile, a smirk. She was amused with something he had just said.
"I am talking about that France," she replied.
"How could you possibly have known what it was like to live in old world France?" he asked.
She looked to the floor again, letting out a breath of smoke. "How could I possibly not?" She looked up at him and stared him in the eye. Her eyes were bright green, vibrant. Not like the eyes he had seen before that were dead and almost lifeless. Her long lashes curled up. One of her eyes was covered by her straight black bangs.
"So you really think you were a vampire, you really think you're immortal?"
"I'm not immortal anymore," she said. "I'm not a vampire anymore. I was. For a few hundred years."
"Tell me about this France you lived in," he said, playing along with her little story. He pulled a memo pad from his desk drawer and started to jot down notes. Then, she began to speak.
"I was born in the slums of Paris on Vertád Street. My mother was a whore, as simple as that. She would sell her body to anyone, anywhere, any time, no matter their age, no matter their ethnicity. She wasn't a very loving person; she was never there for me in my youth. She would from time to time forget I was there. To her, I was there to keep the shack in which we lived in order. I would live in the small shack by myself during the day while she went to wherever she needed to go. I alone I had to ward of other peasants who tried to steal our bread. A revolution was taking place in my country. Peasants were rioting. My mother told me not to participate and just let it be.
"The rioting was my opportunity to steal from the other peasants. Most of the peasants would be at the gates of the palaces, leaving their homes completely unattended. I would get into trouble so often." The girl smiled to herself. She closed her eyes as if she was picturing it, picturing the very place she lived in. She then opened her eyes, leant forward, and jammed her cigarette into the ashtray on the desk.
"When I was ten I was completely devoted to my mother. I loved her. I could never have denied her anything she wished. If she wished for me to sell the rags on my back, I would. And in fact, I did. Many times."
"Your mother was very dependent on you, wasn't she?" Dr. Kennedy said. Aviva nodded.
"My mother never mentioned my father. When I would ask she would give me a look. It was a sour look, a look of pure distaste. She would say he was dead to her and I would always reply that he wasn't dead to me. When I was fifteen I demanded to see him, to at least know his name.
"She spat out his name at me and sent me out onto the streets. She had closed her doors to me then. I was alone. And I hated her. I hated her so much. She turned her back on me. I was alone, with only my name, and my anonymous father's name. I wandered the streets for days. I was raped at least four times. I had lost all dignity."
"Why didn't you go home to your mother?" Dr. Kennedy asked.
"Because I was too stubborn. I wanted to find my father. I wanted to know who he was and what he looked like. Those days were the most painful days of my life. Soon I found out from a butcher that my father was dead. The fact that I would never hear his voice or know whether he was a good or bad man was overwhelming. I had nowhere to go. Back then peasants were not given opportunities. No one wanted them. No one cared for them. Everyone was worried about politics. But the butcher was kind-hearted. He let me work for him. He let me clean up after him. He was a pleasant man with a round face, and a round wife as well. They let me live in their basement. They both wanted a child of their own, and prayed for it. They said I was their gift from god. Monsieur Henry and Mademoiselle Lilia was the closest thing to a family I ever had.
"They were part of a higher state in French society and because of them, I became one too. Henry was very much involved with the revolution. I was more interested in art.
"One day I heard Lilia scream. It was far into the night. And that was when I was born into Darkness, as I call it.
"I hurried up the damp stone steps of the basement and found both of them dead. And even though I didn't realize it then, even though I didn't connect the dots, the bite wounds in their necks, the lack of blood upon the floor, and the fear in their dead eyes, that was my first experience in vampirism. That was my step into the world of the Undead, even though I was still mortal.
"When you say that a vampire had left bite marks in their necks, do you mean that he sucked their blood from these wounds?" Dr. Kennedy asked her.
"Yes," she replied. "And before I realized what this creature was that did this to them, he turned on me. He was a gorgeous creature, even thought I could hardly see any of his features. He gave off a radiance of beauty. I could feel it. It tingled my skin. It was a sudden attraction like in these modern day movies you mortals are so crazy about. And somehow, it was easy for me to accept him taking me by my throat and imbibing my blood. Even though he left me to die on the ground next to those I considered my parents, I understood."
Dr. Kennedy nodded, and scribbled on the notepad.
"The police found me the next day. I did not know what to tell them."
"You should have told them what happened," Dr. Kennedy said.
"They wouldn't have believed me. I was alone again. But this time, I knew what it was like to have a normal family, and that's what caused my second time being homeless to be much more emotional. Before, I was filled with hate for my mother. Now, I was filled with grief over the loss of people who cared about me, and who I cared for.
"I was a nomad. For months I would wander. I would sleep on corners of shops until the owners made me leave. I had an immense feeling of guilt. Why was it that Henry and Lilia died, but I remained alive? Why had the vampire spared me?
"And soon, the vampire found me. I had gotten into a fight with some other peasants over three pounds of bread. I didn't know that it was going to get violent until one of the peasants pulled out a knife. He stabbed the two other peasants and walked towards me. I dove out of the way and began to run when I heard him let out a scream. I dared to look around and I saw a shadowed figure pounce onto him and kill him. I was so lightheaded that I didn't realize the vampire was coming for me.
"'Come with me,' he said, taking my hand. The moon was high and full. The night was quiet. I could hear the crickets chirp loud and strong. The wind was dreadful. Autumn was in the process of turning into winter. My head was dizzy.
"I followed him to the woods. An owl let out a hoot, and flew off a branch of a tree, almost knocking me down. The vampire continued to lead me on."
"Why would you go with him?" Dr. Kennedy asked.
"Because I had nothing better to do. I was alone. I did not care what became of my life. I was almost in complete self-destruct mode, and the fact that there was some kind of adventure that would break the daily bore of my life was quite appealing.
"Anyway, he led me deep into the woods where I could hear the wild animals around us. They were closer than I would have wanted, but I didn't give a damn back then. All of a sudden he spun around and spoke quickly, 'Do you want to be what I am? Do you want to have what I have? Immortality, free of disease and sickness? Do you want to become a vampire?'
"I stood there, staring at him in the darkness. His eager, beautiful face. I could see it now, better than before. His blue eyes, his wavy shoulder length dark blonde hair. I wanted him. I needed him. He would complete me. He would take me from my walking death to something else, something better. I could feel it just by looking at him.
" 'Yes,' I said, simply, almost lamely. He bit me again."
"What did this bite feel like exactly?"
"It's so hard to put into words. The vampire gently wrapped his fingers around my shoulders and bit me in my neck, the same place that he had before. The marks were still there, and I could feel the scars rip open with the slash of his teeth. I felt his tongue lap up the pouring blood carefully. I moaned. This feeling was something I had never felt before. Even when he had taken me in his arms months ago, it had not felt like this. It was almost orgasmic. The blood was not being forcefully drawn out of me, but was merely flowing into his mouth. His tongue tickled the wound, round and round it went. The world around me became something fantastical. The colours blurred together creating a strange kaleidoscope-like pattern. I felt my skin tighten on my bones. I felt the colour drain from my face and my wither against my body. I was flesh and bone and muscle, nothing else.
"When the vampire finally pulled away from my mutilated body, he licked his lips and smiled at me. I could not speak, but I felt betrayed. What had he done to me? I thought I would surely die. I could feel the last bit of my life wavering inside of me, ready to drift towards the light in the darkness of the night. The vampire then gnashed his own fangs into his white wrist. I saw the blood flow.
" 'Drink,' he said to me, holding his wrist over my lips. I felt the blood drip onto my chin and fall onto my chest.
" 'No,' I said hoarsely with all my might. The thought of blood drinking was suddenly so revolting to me, it took me by force. I began to shake uncontrollably.
" 'You will die if you do not,' he replied. 'Drink.' I was faced with the decision whether to keep my life and participate in something that seemed so evil, so morbid to me, or die with some dignity.
" 'Aviva, drink. Drink, Aviva.' But I could not longer hear his cries to me. It seemed as if I was falling. I closed my eyes. My body was numb.
"And then I could see my mother. She was above me, as if she was an angel. There was a light behind her, so bright.
" 'Mother, I'm so sorry,' I said to her. I reached my hand up to her.
" 'It's alright Aviva,' she said to me. 'Everything is going to be alright.' She took my hand and lifted me from the ground. I was drifting into the sky, towards the moon, with her. All the pain had disappeared from my body, and I was no longer wounded. I was healed.
" 'Aviva!' the vampire yelled. 'Please, drink!' I opened my eyes. I was on the ground, the hard ground. The pain returned to my body. I parted my lips and saw him smile at me. I managed to nod in acceptance. He pressed his wrist onto my mouth and I felt the blood fall onto my tongue. The sensation from that made me go crazy. The blood was intoxicating. I could not concentrate on anything else but the blood flowing into my mouth and into my veins. I felt moisture reentering my body. I felt as if my only purpose in life was to drink, and to continue drinking. I never wanted the endless flow of drink to stop. I needed it.
"But then it was over. The vampire snatched his wrist away from me, fell backwards against a tree, and panted, cradling his wrist on the breast of his chest. I, like an animal, crawled on all fours towards him and tried to snatch his wrist away from him.
" 'More,' I begged him. 'Please,' I moaned.
"The frown dissolved from his face and he began to laugh. 'You'll get more later, I promise.'
" 'I want it now—' but I could not get the words out. Suddenly, I stood up, looking around. Everything was so different, so alive. I could feel the radiance erupt from everything around me. Everything was brighter, and so much clearer in the darkness than ever before…"
Aviva trailed off. Her eyes were big and she stared at the ceiling.
"I wish that I could see that again," she whispered. "I wish that I could see the night in all its brilliance with the eyes of a vampire. There was a feeling of power whenever we vampires arose at the crack of dusk because of what we could see."
She tilted her head, and remained silent for a minute, basking in the memory of that night. Then, she was snapped back to reality.
"Sorry," she said to Dr. Kennedy. "I tend to lose myself sometimes." Dr. Kennedy raised his hand in a simple gesture, signaling her to continue.
"The vampire took me to a the outskirts of a graveyard that night where a shack stood. It was small, smaller than the one I used to live in with my mother. He looked at me, eyes wide with suspense as if he was about to show me something that would surely shock me. He pushed the weathered wooden door open. Inside was shadowy and dark. I could not see anything that was inside.
" 'What are you waiting for,' he said to me. 'Step into my home.' He paused, bit his lip and then corrected himself. 'I mean, our home.'
"I looked at him with doubt. 'Why?' I asked him. 'Why here? Surely a man such as yourself would take me to a place of more luxury. Look at the fabrics on your back. They are of such finery. You wear silver and gold bands around your fingers. You have jewels on your shoes.'
" 'Step inside, Aviva,' he said, ignoring everything which I said. I held my breath, and stepped into the shack. He came in behind me and closed the door behind him. We were in darkness. Complete darkness. I smelt lilacs. The vampire then lit a candle. The small shack had nothing in it except a dreary staircase that led down into more darkness. The vampire pushed me forward a little. Down the stairs we went. It was musty down there, humid and damp. When we got to the bottom, there were two iron doors with locks and chains. There was also a huge bolt in the middle.
" 'How are we supposed to open it?' I asked.
" 'Stand back,' he replied. I took a step backwards onto a stair, and he closed his eyes and put his hands together in front of his face as if in prayer. Slowly, he began to separate his hands, and as they separated, the door began to open. I lurched back onto the steps behind me and fell to the cold ground.
" 'Lord,' I whispered under my breath, a hand on my heart. The room inside was a beautifully decorated room of satin and silk. There was a piano in one corner, and bookshelves in another. In the middle were two coffins, open, but empty. Candles were everywhere and the floor was littered with hand-woven Persian rugs. Never in my dreams would I have imagined that I would have this.
" 'Welcome home,' he said, helping me up. I stepped into the gorgeous room, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins so fast. I tapped some keys on the piano, while the vampire stared. He was obviously amused by this reaction.
" 'I'm dreaming. I must be dreaming,' I mused to myself. He grinned, and embraced me in his arms.
" 'What you have become,' he whispered in my ear, 'is far from a dream. Welcome to the life as an immortal.'
"I wandered around the room, soon finding a door leading to a long hallway with two doors on either side. The two on the left side led to a library and study, and the two doors on the right led to a wardrobe filled with clothes and jewels, and a locked door.
" 'You are never to go in there,' he said seriously. 'Never.' His eyes narrowed on me gravely. Then, suddenly, his face dropped the hard expression and he said softly, 'besides, only I can open it. You do not have the power which I have.' He then took my hand and led me back into the main room and sat on the rim of the half opened coffin.
" 'The sun will be rising soon,' he said simply. 'Climb into your coffin.' He gestured to the coffin that lay beside his.
" 'Wha—No. I can't. What are you talking about? I thought it was only the stories that said that we sleep in coffins,' I blubbered on.
" 'They are true in some aspects,' he said, his fingers running across the rim of the polished coffin smoothly. "We do sleep in coffins during the day. If a vampire ever met with the light of sun, they would meet a miserable fate. Their skull would burn from the light and they would erupt into flames. We have to sleep in coffins to protect ourselves. We have to live in seclusion while we sleep so that no mortal wanders in and lifts the lid of the coffin revealing us to our enemy. We must keep our identity a secret from the mortals, because they simply cannot be trusted.'
"I stood there in silence. 'Please,' he said. 'Climb in.' I closed my eyes and took in a breath, walking to the coffin that lay beside him.
It was a beautiful coffin. The polish shined in the candlelight, and the dark wood was blemish-free.
I stepped into it, feeling the soft lining of the velvet fabric under my feet. It was inviting, yet there was something that made me skeptical.
" 'It's completely safe,' the vampire said to me, reading my mind. 'Air creeps in; you won't suffocate. Besides, you're immortal now. Things like that shouldn't matter to you anymore. You are free to roam in any condition that you choose to pursue in.
" 'I suppose you're right,' I said stretching my legs out before me and laying my head down. I let my arms lay on their sides next to my body. They were straight. I was uncomfortable. The position was so alien to me. It was unnatural.
"Now I shall bid you goodnight,' the vampire said to me. I sat up to respond, but remained silent. I watched as he crossed his arms over his chest like a mummy and without raising a finger, he used his mind to lift the lid and slide it shut over his body. I lay back, uncomfortable, and pulled the lid on top of the coffin. In the pure darkness of the casket, I turned to my side. Sleep then enwrapped me."