"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell"

I sometimes find myself wishing I could sleep. Even for just a moment, to be disconnected from the painful realization of reality. It's when times get so excruciatingly melancholy that I find myself at my breaking point.

You think – as an ignorant and childishly naïve individual – you know what it's like. "Facts" only depicts the good side. There's always a good side. I'm not going to down my existence. I am what I am and I deal with that the best I can because – let's face it – there's no way I'm going to die anytime soon.

Sometimes I like it. Not gonna lie. Those sometimes are most of the time. But everyone gets bored, depressed even. Including me. But our depression… you cannot even begin to imagine. It feels so… wrong. So… weak. I hate feeling weak.

Which is why tonight, I take my time. I want a challenge. Someone who won't crumble to the ground in a fit of tears and despair. That almost made me leave.

Almost.

I rolled my eyes while crouching lower on the short stone wall. Below me, hundreds – if not thousands – of candles smoldered in gold and orange. The fumes rose with black smoke as some flames flickered higher than its siblings. I inhaled the warmth and closed my eyes and as I did so, my mouth instantly opened in reaction. My lips formed into a smile.

The voice stopped speaking and my eyes snapped open. I found my reflection in the enormous golden chandelier hanging above the first row of benches. My limbs were worn in a graceful crouch; fingertips of my right hand barely touching the marble beneath me, while the left elbow leaned casually on the pillar just to my side, hand keeping hair from falling into my face. But what stood out more than a seemingly ordinary and yet so abnormal girl, were my eyes. They have always been my best and worst feature. But as my trail gazed across the stone room, I couldn't' help but marvel over my own beauty and freakiness. My irises – mostly a rich red or dark maroon – were almost black. It wasn't just the scent of old dust infested candles that had caught my undeniable attention.

I glanced back down towards the service, watching every individual while simultaneously cocking my head to the side and biting down on my lower lip. I placed my hand against the back of the pillar, pushing myself over the edge just a little.

A small child in the front row looked up at that moment. While I would have expected fear, a scream perhaps – I could have settled for a loud gasp – she merely looked up at me with an easily readable expression; mystification. She stared at me a full human minute before starting to pull at her mother's arm, trying to gain her attention. When she turned her head, I pushed back, off the railing and into the shadows where I'm supposed to belong. I heard her voice with crystal clarity, as if she were standing right next to me.

"Mama. Există o fată pe balcon."

"Shh..."

"Ea are ochi negri."

"Shh!"

How the world has changed. To think that just over four-hundred years ago – barely forty days for someone like me – humans would believe anyone who cried witch. I smirked. If they only knew how close they all were. Of course I would not have them all. That would be foolish. But I could still dream of the fear, the undying terror I would surely witness in each and every one of their eyes.

I walked down the length of the church – too fast for any human to notice if they so happened to glance up – with my feet barely touching the floor. Once I came to the back I jumped back up onto the ledge, crouched down and waited for the priest to finish speaking.

It had started to drizzle outside. Not yet noticeable for the humans but my sensitive ears picked it up as soon as the first drop hit the roof. The sky was completely black, no moon or stars visible from the glass mural behind the shrine. I almost bared my teeth at the gesture.

Do they honestly think a silent prayer from the mind to no one could save them? That lightning would crash into this "sacred" palace and split me in two? Like it could. Like anything could. Such silly pawns. Though I must admit, some of their last responses have amused me greatly.

One woman grabbed at the crucifix around her neck, murmuring prayers in Latin. I had yanked the chain from her. She cried out for it but I had already grabbed her neck and my teeth were an inch away from her vein. They never seem to scream for very long.

There's definitely a difference in tastes. The druggies and smokers are the worst. They're too tainted, the blood's too poisoned. Even the recovering addicts are bad. The taste will linger for months, years even. It's the same with sick people. Drugs really do ruin you. Luckily for me, there're more healthy humans than there are sick. It's hard to have a favorite. Some just smells better than others and sometimes it's hard not to drool.

The priest stopped talking and my focus is once again at the pack on humans below me. Some leave the church right away, hurrying out. The rain had stopped now. Didn't matter. They'd smell just the same. A few – adults mostly – formed a queue to the front, receiving bread and wine before crossing their hands over their chests, whispering a silent prayer.

I feel annoyed at how long it takes – even though I have all the time in the world – it's still tedious to have to wait for your dinner.

As the line diminishes, I rise and look at the roof. A window is perched right above the double entry doors.

Moving too fast for their human eyes to see me, I leaped across the space and grab at the angel statue on the wall, open the window with my other hand and as soon as it ajar, I push through and climb up the roof, peering down at the gatherings. Now I needed to focus.

I couldn't just take anyone. I liked this town. It's so dark during the day. I couldn't risk someone – anyone – looking too closely. While a mythological creature is just that; a myth, it doesn't stop people from believing. I didn't need a groupie figuring things out and put trust in the wrong kinds of people.

My focus is drawn when two humans – one male and one female – leaves in a different direction. I hear them explaining how they want to walk home, declining any offers of a ride. They start going down a dirt path which leads right into the woods.

I push myself back against the roof and tense before leaping into the air.

I slam into the tree, without alerting them. The jump was far and I felt impressed I was able to make it without any preparation. They are barely fifty feet away now. I jump to the next tree, and then the next. Finally, I've had enough and stand up on a thick branch. I simply place one foot over empty space and lean forward. I don't even feel the earth beneath my feet before I start to stalk them.

I cock my head to the side, wondering who will go first. It's always nice to have the male. The girl will run around, yelling for people who cannot hear. Then she will cry and most fun will be over. Fear is better than cries. But the men, on the other hand. They act all tough – like we see in movies – but when time comes; they start balling like babies.

Smirking, I pushed to the other side of the path; ahead of them now. I wait behind the tree, ready to snatch her as soon as I can. Their scents invade my senses, filling my mouth with venom and making my throat ache with the effort to breathe. But I have to. They smell so… delicious. I can't stop myself.

When the liquid had coated my teeth to the point where my lips could barely be held down, I reach out and grab the girl before the male can even understand that she's no longer walking next to him. She doesn't have time to scream. She doesn't have time to breathe. My teeth pierce the delicate skin of her throat. The warmth floods down my throat and I have to close my eyes. The emotions are overpowering. I need more. But there never is. The girl goes limp in my arms and I toss her to the side, making a silent promise to come back when her boyfriend's taken care of.

I press myself against the tree and wait. It didn't take long. The boy notice he's alone and whirl around in search.

"Kathryn?" He called quietly, as if she was merely hiding from him in a pathetic attempt at a game. I smirked. I was going to have some fun.

I leaped from the tree, too fast for his human eyes and came up behind a tree ahead of him. I purposefully crunched a few twigs in my way. He turned his head so fast I though the fragile neck would break.

"Kathryn? Acest lucru nu este amuzant." Oh but it is. It's going to be so much fun. I cracked another twig to his left. He twirled in a circle.

"Cini-i acolo?"

I moved to his right, grabbing lightly at the hood of his jacket. He jerked away from the touch.

"Este cineva acolo?" I chuckled, loud enough for him to hear. "Ce doreşti?"His pulse quickened. Perspiration covered his forehead and neck. A new wave of venom pooled in my mouth. I swallowed but it was to no use. I was still so very thirsty.

The boy walked towards me. He was braver than I anticipated. Most would run for the hills, screaming prayers for a God that didn't exist and even if he did, nothing would have been able to stop me. Not when I'm set to hunt.

He was just around the bark when I pushed away. I looked from behind a different tree, watching how paranoia and hysteria entered him. His heart was beating so fast. How I was resisting it, I don't know but I was and it never failed to make me proud. Any other wouldn't hesitate, wouldn't care if they didn't get their fun. But I did. It was exciting. Though their resolve was much more limited than mine.

But as fun as it may be; to have this brittle human in panics and his pulse racing, I was thirsty. I wanted blood. I needed blood. But one more thing was to be done.

I jumped up the tree and down to the girl's body and made a noise. The boy shot for the scene, all the while I pushed back up the tree and perched myself on a thick branch. The boy reached my intended destination and when he was at the scene, he fell to his knees and picked the girl up, clearly crying.

"Oh Kathryn …" His weak voice barely carried but I heard without any problem. Then he got up, his nostrils flared. He was mad. I smirked again.

"Cine esti?"

I braced the branch and whistled. The shrill cut through the forest like a razor and I saw Goosebumps appear on the boy's arms. Slowly, he looked up and when he saw me standing there, smiling wide with too pearly white teeth, he whispered in a language I did not know. I jumped down and landed gracefully on my feet.

He was instantly taken by my unnatural beauty. Many were not particularly embarrassed to be seen staring at a – seemingly – small girl. But when his eyes met my black irises, he looked appalled and gained his focus back.

"Eşti un demon?" I laughed and took a step forward, backing him into the tree.

"No... I am much, much worse." I grabbed his hair, yanking his heads to the side and the next second my teeth pierced his brittle skin. He struggled for a second before going limp; passing out, before dying in my arms, just like the girl. He didn't taste the same. But they never did. He tasted… spicier. If it's even possible.

With both corpses at my feet, I looked around for a good place to hide them. The patch where they were walking on was not too wide and I could faintly hear the town on the other side. But by going west, a whole ravine of dangerous routs was yet to be discovered.

I picked them both up with no real effort and sped away.

The hole was bigger and deeper than I planned but it worked better than I thought. Soon – after the animals have had their share – only skeletons would remain. My hands dripped with intestines and shredded pieces of flesh. I had to mess them up. If someone were to come across them, the only evidence of battle couldn't be marks at their necks.

I pushed them both down. They fell and landed with loud thuds.

I pushed the mound of dirt over them, sighing in relief as the job was finally done. The sky was brightening. I needed to clean up. No humans would be out for at least another three hours.

I raced through the forest, finding a lake to clean up in. The image before me was taking from Friday the 13th. The original. Minus a psychotic mother on the revenge wagon.

Shredding my clothes, I walked into the water. Though I felt no warmth or cold; the liquid felt soft against my diamond body, almost like velvet. The moon was full and made my skin illuminate in the most unnatural way. I pushed beneath the surface and swam across the length before coming up for unnecessary air.

The next hunting night was different. I wasn't feeling up to waiting for hours in a church with hypocritical bastards just to have my fix. It's been almost three weeks since I last fed. The ache was starting to get the best of me. My throat burned every time I came too close to a human but I still resisted. Tonight it wouldn't take long.

I stole a car a couple of miles south in Ruse before racing north to Bucharest. I've been living there for several months now. They weren't suspicious yet – mostly because no one technically knew me – but they would be soon enough. It was almost time for me to move on.

I sat down at the bar in a pub. The jukebox – I'm amazed there are any left – kept playing the same song, over and over again. It was tiring. I ordered a beer with no intention of drinking it. Instead, the bartended sat down a martini in front of me. I stared at the tree dark green chemically enhanced olives pierced on a toothpick in the scentless alcohol before glancing up at the bartender, one eyebrow quirked.

"Nu am pentru acest," I said, annoyed

"Este de la om acolo jos." The aging man stepped away with a sigh. I didn't look to see who this person was since I had no intention of following out with the gratitude that I was sure he was imagining.

"Este acest loc este ocupat?" I rolled my eyes and said nothing. The dude sat down, inclined towards me. I had to remind myself to breath regularly. But with a human this close, my already crumbling self-control was on a fast track to completely evaporating.

"Esti din Bucuresti?"

"New York," I said with annoyance. Maybe if I answered with anything that popped into my mind, he'd take the hint and move away.

"Ah. An American. Don't you want your drink?"

"I don't drink martinis."

"What do you drink, then?" The corner of my lips twitched and I had to fight a smile.

"Nothing you would be interested in."

"Is it illegal?"

"Depends on how you see it."

"How do you see it?"

"Surviving." He studied me for a moment as I swirled the stick with the olives.

"You are absolutely breathtaking."

"I know."

"What do you say about us getting out of here?" I almost laughed. The fact that he thought he had a shot was completely ridiculous. But… he just sealed his deal. I turned my head, letting my full gaze wash over him. His pupils dilated, his heart started pumping faster. He was nervous, but didn't run away. I smirked and held out a hand.

"Follow me." He took it and I led him through the place and out the back. As soon as the door closed, I had the man pinned to the wall. He wasn't too bad-looking. Possibly a four or maybe a weak five.

The man grabbed my ass and I would have been pissed at any other time but right now, I was so thirty I couldn't see straight. I pushed my lips to his, tasting the soft flesh. He quickly caught up in the kiss but soon I pressed harder. Too hard. He started trying to break away but I wouldn't let him. That's when I accidentally bit his tongue. That one drop of blood made my mind go crazy. I pushed into him harder, tearing his tongue to shreds for more blood. I saw the terror flash in his eyes but after I'd sucked for a good minute, his pupils expanded and his heart rate dropped until it finally stopped. I sucked his mouth dry before pulling away. The body went down and I swallowed greedily, tilting my head back. He tasted good. I licked my lips for the remaining drop before looking down at my predicament.

I could leave him here for the police to find him. Though I decided against it; I only got him as far as the dumpster. I'd be long gone by the morning when they would ultimately find him.

I felt satisfied enough to leave early; needing to get back to the stolen car before putting it on fire. I rush back to the apartment I had been renting. It wasn't much. It almost never is. Only one room, excluding the bathroom with a miniscule balcony with a very shady railing. Stepping into the kitchen/bathroom/living room, I spotted my nondescript belongings scattered across the space.

I had very little belongings which mattered enough to bring with me wherever I went. Clothes I could always buy or steal. The same with shoes. I had a laptop and a cell phone, both accompanied with individual chargers. A 40 year old lighter, featuring two angels from the Sistine chapel sighing in unison – amazingly enough, there is still almost a full dose of lighter fuel inside. About 10.000 dollars in five different currencies. A dark silver mood ring with an opal gem from the late 70s – this ring is almost always lodged onto my right index finger – along with a formerly black– now almost grey – tank top featuring the Rolling Stones infamous logo. Come to think of it, I bought those two at the same concert.

An opened deck of cards – all of which had been carelessly strewn over the bedside table – where the Kings, Queens and Knaves have change from their usual royal features to various stages in a Shakespearian play, seeming to silently say well-known lines; raging from Hamlet to a Midsummer Night's Dream. The edges have been worn through years and years of playing but I've been careful to not bend them in any way.

Two passports, one blue while the other maroon; depending on who I feel like impersonating at the time. The last item – lying open on the small desk across the sink, displaying my recent obsession with the gothic building across the street – a hardcover sketchbook which used to be light beige was now filled with various doodling like the windmill of Moulin Rouge and a small patch of tulips from the Netherlands. Pages had been added and pronounced against the restrictions. I gently closed the lid and placed the almost century old book in my newly purchased black cotton duffle bad.

There were more. Things I couldn't seem to part myself with. Momentums I denied ever associating myself with. I could not afford to seem weak or sentimental. Though the both seemed the same to me.

But it was time for me to leave now. I shoved the cards into its confinement while simultaneously ripping the phone charger from the wall and throwing it across the room. It landed with a slight thud against the book.

Zipping the bag and pushing it up my shoulder, I surveyed the room, making sure I wouldn't forget anything I didn't want another person finding. There was nothing to prove my visit than an Italian translated The Scarlett Letter, republished in 1946. I thought about it and then grabbed it before hurrying outside.

One lonely-looking silver BMW with tinted windows idled outside an apartment complex; compelling me to take it as mine and drive off into the sunrise. Ten miles away from town, I stopped at the side of the road to change the license plates to the ones I stole off a different car on the way back last night.

The sun rose high on the sky, spilling sunlight into the car and simultaneously filling it with rays of rainbows and sparkle. I wore black skinny jeans with black mock suede boots, stopping two inches below my kneecaps with the back of the heel a screaming red. The very old loose grey tank top with the Rolling Stones logo across the stomach and a black pleather jacket with the arms reaching down to my elbows. I couldn't wear the real deal. It somehow seemed… disrespectful. If you could believe that.

The road was thinning as I was coming into the town. I reached into my duffle bag and retrieved at pair of designer sunglasses – a gift from one of my, ahem, acquaintances. I placed them over my bright red eyes and leaned back in my seat, letting the purr of the smooth car calm me even further. I didn't even have to think to know when to make a turn.

Three hours later, I drove into the parking lot of a local mall; parking beneath the structure. I sat in the car – unmoving – for hours. I listened to the weather and when it was reported of a forecast, I left the key in the ignition – the radio still on – and got out. Gathering my duffle bag, I surveyed the lot before finding a replacement.

I stole a white ninety-one rusty beat-up Audi. My only consolation was that I'd be setting it on fire soon enough. The car stopped on me twice before rolling along the lot. If I could still blush, I would have.

When I surfaced, the rain pelted down hard on the roof, making it the only sound echoing inside my head.

I didn't have to drive for long before I found a house I could live in for now. The property was gated, though that would do nothing for someone like me. The bushes were overgrown and the grass was completely yellow with dryness. Until the rain when it became a massacre of mud.

The huge three-story building with roof access was awarded with six visible balconies. The warm exterior colors reminded me of the Italian homes I'd been staying at in the late sixties. I'm sure it used to be quite beautiful once but that beauty was long gone and remaining was a lingering charm. I threw my bag in one of the upper bedrooms with an open fireplace. It's been long clogged up, I could smell the carcasses of several doves but I wasn't planning on starting a fire.

I grabbed a wad of cash before getting into the car again and driving to the closest mall I could find – the same as before, it appeared. I pushed the money into my jacket pocket before stepping out, leaving the door open and making my way towards the escalators.

AN: I would love to know what you think. Is this okay or complete shit? Could it be great?

And with the translations, I don't know whether it's better if I have the English words right after or if you might be able to guess and then look at the end of the chapter. Please let me know…

Translations:

Mama. Există o fată pe balcon. – Mama. There's a girl on the balcony.

Ea are ochi negri. – She has dark eyes.

Acest lucru nu este amuzant. – This isn't funny.

Cini-i acolo? – Who's out there?

Este cineva acolo? – Is anyone out there?

Ce doreşti? – What do you want?

Cine esti? – Who are you?

Eşti un demon? – Are you a demon?

Nu, eu sunt mult mai rău. – No, I'm much worse

Nu am pentru acest – I didn't order this

Este de la om acolo jos. – It's from the man down there.

Este acest loc este ocupat? – Is this seat taken?

Esti din Bucuresti? – Are you from Bucharest?