So I'm back. Sorry I'm taking so long, but I'm a very disordered person and I keep on starting stories without finishing them… Well, that's me. I'll finish and publish them, eventually. So that's a very angsty and dark piece. But hey, they're vampires, not little princesses. Blood is needed!
I'm still not satisfied, but I'm not sure I'll ever be. Maybe it's some kind of writer's syndrome…
Enjoy
Ever since Vlad hit puberty, his vampire instincts were becoming irrepressible. He was too strong and kept breaking glasses, chairs and various objects by accident. He also had severe migraines because of his over-sensible hearing. The worst of all was still the blood-lust. Lately, his eyes would flash black and his fangs would come out every now and then. The carving was all he thought about, driving him, obsessing him. Soy blood wasn't enough any longer.
Physically, he looked terrible. For Erin, he appeared like a shade. His eyes were blushed and his hair was dirty. As for his skin, it used to be pale, but now it was almost translucent, stretching on his now visible veins. He smelled sick too. It was even worst that when Ingrid had that blood allergy.
Bertrand notices that the chosen one barely slept. He had enormous bags under his eyes, almost black. He was walking like a zombie, slow and automatically, unlike his arms that kept twitching out of stress. He always seemed out of focus, like something was haunting him. And something was. A though, that he kept fighting but deep inside, everybody knew that someday, he'll lose.
He was running away from any kind of company, which worried those that cared for him.
Erin couldn't be left alone with him. She was scared nowadays, after he attacked her three times. If Bertrand and Ingrid hadn't been there, she would be an empty corpse. Even her empathy was challenged by it.
Ingrid and the Count couldn't even help him. The count looked like a worried mother, trying to nurture to the point it was sickening. But if Ingrid was concerned, it truly meant that something was wrong. Still, Vlad ignored them. It wasn't that he was ignoring them; it was more as if they weren't present for him, like he was in another world.
And Bertrand was so angry. Why? Why couldn't he let go? Why humanity was so important for Vlad? It was killing him. It was killing the both of them.
Vlad couldn't take it anymore. Therefore one day he cracked.
When Vlad got missing, it was obvious that the whole Dracula's household went at his search. Fortunately, he was found soon enough. But it was already too late.
It was Bertrand who found Vlad. He was searching in the streets of Liverpool and there he was, behind a cheap bar, surrounded by dumpsters and an old vespa. He was on his knees, next to a corpse.
He looked like a mess. His gaze was blank, his limbs were trembling and he was as pale… as a corpse, ironically.
If Bertrand didn't know any better, he wouldn't have recognized him.
"Vlad?" He asked, unsure of what to do.
He moved forward him. Now, he's truly worried.
Had he broke him? Did he actually broke his spirit and transformed the sweet man into a dull blood thirsty vampire. Please no. It was his entire fault.
Vlad's eyes turned pitch black.
Bertrand wasn't panicking. Not at all. Everything was perfectly fine.
Well, that's a lie. He threw the body carelessly aside.
"Please be okay."
He called for his name again. However it was ineffective. Despair filled him, as his legs finally gave up and his arms grasped at him, holding him.
He finally met the blue of Vlad's eyes. The pupils were retracted, almost inexistent and tears began to form at the edges. But his expression was the worst, frozen by horror.
"Bertrand?" He called in a heartbroken tone.
The guilt was overflowing him.
"I killed him."
It was all so hard to understand for Bertrand. Vampires were supposed to kill. It was normal. He couldn't care less for those pathetic humans.
Yet, it was all Vlad was able to think about. His most haunting worry and nightmare were coming true by the simple presence of a dead body.
So Bertrand only hugged the teen tighter, hoping to comfort him in any way he could.
"I was weak. I'm… I'm a monster."
"Shh… It's okay. You're going to be fine."
"No! I failed!" The chosen one sobbed.
"You're going to be all right. You… You have to."
He couldn't say how long they lay here, surrounded by dirt and filth. None of it matter. Time to time, he would wiped away Vlad's tears or press a comforting kiss on his forehead, his cheeks.
Maybe the sun would rise soon, or perhaps time stopped and it never will.
None of it matter.
Because with Vlad broken, the world is falling down.
That's all. I'm thinking about continuing this, in order to make a happy ending or something. I'll see if I've got anymore inspiration.