"There can be no knowledge without emotion. We may be aware of a truth, yet until we have felt its force, it is not ours. To the cognition of the brain must be added the experience of the soul." Arnold Bennett
Fighting with the burning fire flaring in the back of my throat, staring in to the eyes of the young man I have pinned to the wall his soft facial features almost making what I am about to do impossible. His eyes wide in fear and yet ore at me, I know that look well the look of shock at the paleness and coldness of my skin, I have heard others call me beautiful some even an angel, but that is far from what I am. Forcing calmness on him feeling his heart rate slow beneath my hand squashing his throat, the beating ringing in my ears, his scent his fear still driving the burning in my throat to the point where I have to sate it. I have to give over to the urges this body is plagued with, squashing his voice box crushing it between my fingers to stop the screams as I bite down, allowing the ruby liquid flow in to my mouth feeling the burn soothing sucking harder, drawing out all I can sating the monster with in me. The lack of screams means I can feed in peace, however just because he cannot physically scream does not mean I do not have to feel that pain, I can feel his screams wracking over my body, sending wave after wave of fear and pain coursing through my own body, reminding me of that fateful night, that very night I became what I am now.
Dropping the corpse to the floor; wanting to let go of the thing causing me sudden pain, the humanity in me clawing to the surface battling with the monster within me. I grumble looking around for somewhere to dump it, looking for a storm drain to stuff the body in to, the dark cover of the alley providing shadow to hide in as I pick up the corpse and drag him towards the nearest storm drain stuffing him inside, after all he has no need to be found, this low life scum is not worth the dignity of being found and mourned for. Growling to myself as I push the body into the storm drain, dropping to my knees as I hear the body drop, my humanity rushing back in to me like flood gates opened, the thud the sound of the lifeless body hitting the bottom reminding me of a time and a place where I lost myself, where all I knew was the kill, the hatred and instant gratification almost losing all of what humanity there was in me, but have I ever really found myself? Who am I?
Rising to my feet the sound of people nearby alerting me to move quickly, not wishing to be seen near the drain being careful I rush deeper in to the shadows heading towards the motel. This small motel on the out skirts of town where I currently spend my time fighting this monster, my monster. If I could only control it better, the taste of the young man's blood still on my tongue reminding me of that peace, that sweet moment where they give in, where they stop fighting, where they accept their fate. That moment is what I live for, the only time I know no pain only peace, the pain of feeding is worth it, for that moment of peace, growling to myself as I listen to my own thoughts, I am not a murder, I do not need to act this way there are different ways to control this, I have to find another way.
Sitting in the motel staring out of the window watching the people walk back wondering how Peter and Charlotte can coexist with the humans, walk in there world, there is so much temptation, so many heart beats sweet scents, sighs lying back on the bed, wracked with pain and guilt over my thoughts, the pain seemingly apart of my every move I make. My mind wondering to the only thing that brings me any kind of peace, that moment of acceptance, the only time I can feel anything other than pain and hatred. The monster in me revelling on the thoughts crossing my mind, the lives taken, the soothing feeling of the blood, the tastes sating the monster in me, losing myself in the thoughts reliving those moments of peace brought forth by those I killed. My humanity holding on to that fact, reliving those faces the pain the terror, all linking back to that pain that first pain the burning, the beautiful Maria and her words, such sweet words unbelieving that such an angel could so me harm. Yet here I am, the same angel, the same ugly death, only I do not create, I cannot bring anyone in to this life willingly, nor do I believe I have the restraint required to do such a thing, the monster in me is too strong, there is no stopping it or sating it once it is feeding.
Rolling over on the bed reaching over to the night stand grabbing the book from the side 'something wicked this way comes' chuckling to myself over the sincerity that demons haunt carnivals preying on young small town boys, such a lure of investigating the unknown it is safer to scare human children in to believing everything unknown is evil and forsaken by god. Sighing I wonder, is the same said of me? Surely those such as I, are surely forsaken by god and have lost all right to bare a soul? Where as many years ago I would have agreed in blood lust vengeance and hate there can be no god other than your own monster ruling yourself and any soul one had would have been eaten or replaced my something else entirely. And yet here I find myself battling with myself to not be that monster, if I have not lost my humanity, is that proof enough of an existence of a soul? Are there any redeeming qualities within this life at all?