Confronting thy Creator

"Isabella, are you well?" he asked, repeating my name in an attempt to gain my attention. I turned slowly away from the eyes of my unwitting victim and found a pair of crimson eyes filled with worry. His expression quickly became one of relief as he looked me over, seeing nothing amiss he came to sit beside me. "Isabella?"

"Yes?" I said to the roof. I vaguely noticed Henry closing the woman's eyes and waiting for me say something more, but I was so angry I feared I may rip apart this man who brought about my demise. I wanted to tear him limb from limb and feed him to the wolves. I hated this man, but I put on a polite smile and turned to him.

"How are you?" he questioned once more, his eyes searching mine for anything that might indicate sadness. I suppose what he found was just as bad. Emptiness. Henry took my hand in his and stroked the skin, "I'm not a mind-reader Isabella. I need you to tell me what's wrong so that I can help."

"I'm dead. That's what's wrong," I replied sharply. Henry looked hurt for a moment and his fingers stopped their ministrations. I hoped I made him feel at least one ounce of the self-loathing and disgust I felt towards myself; he clearly had no problem with this life.

"You're not dead. You're living your life differently," he told me with certainty and offered me a kind smile. "I used to think that way too, but I found that as long as I thought myself dead, I would be dead. I found myself standing in the middle of a forest, staring into the skies and willing an end to my never ending life. I was there in body—but not in spirit.

"That idea trapped me for a few thousand years. But a short time ago my perspective of the world changed. I decided that as long as I was on this earth, I must appreciate the time I have. You never know when it will be cut short."

I was winded by the truth in Henry's words; I knew that last phrase well. Had I not just been ripped from my life? Yes. I had, and it had been his fault. I took a deep breath and restrained myself, putting my hands in my lap. I needed to accept this existence, just as I had accepted death. I would never forgive Henry, but I would move on. I hoped he could see that.

"I'd never thought of it like that," I murmured, still with clenched fists and a locked jaw.

"Older and wiser…" Henry chuckled, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Shall we dispose of these?" he said while gesturing towards the two bodies with his free hand.

Henry smiled and knelt in front of me, he placed the hand that had been on my shoulder under my chin and tilted it up towards him.

"Do you see now?" he questioned, already knowing the answer. I sighed and stood, the creature baying for more blood as I took another breath. I smelt mint and lavender on Henry, but the memory of my victims' blood still hung strong in the air. The steady burn in my throat continued its assault on me as I fought to keep myself in control of my body. It had been a long internal struggle to free myself from the creature within me, even for a few hours. I had been successful.

Henry let go of me, seeing the internal struggle in my eyes and lifted the blonde woman who lay in the shadows, he threw her over his shoulder and then picked up the girl I had most recently ravaged. "Will you carry her for me please? I can't hold two at once—and even more importantly, I shouldn't have to." Henry dropped the girl at my feet and walked through the door into the darkness of the night.

I was disgusted by his treatment of the girl. Though she was dead and my kill, she deserved respect. My eyes stung as I willed tears to spring from them, but none came. Why couldn't I cry?! I needed to, but I couldn't. Stamping my foot childishly, I noticed incredulously how the ground gave way underneath my foot, now a foot-sized hole was set where I stood. I was so frustrated! I never wanted this! I wanted to be with my parents, and to marry whoever they wanted for me. An arranged marriage was such a small sacrifice in comparison to this. I wanted to live my life as a human.

But I couldn't have that. Ever. I would never marry. I could never see my parents again, for they would shame me if they saw me. They would be able to tell what wrongs I committed the moment they looked me in the eye. They could always tell. Even if I'd done something as small as throw a stone, even if no-one was hurt, they could tell. I could only imagine the look of disgust on their faces if they saw me now.

So I was resigned, I lifted the girl in my arms and carried her to the doorway. I looked both ways before stepping into the street; it was a crescent moon tonight and provided little light. Thankfully, the torches in the town had only just been lit and gave off a small amount of light. You could only see as far as the end of your arm, and that was a strain for a human, I remembered from my own foggy memories. But as a vampire I could see all, no longer inhibited by my weak human sight.

I followed Henry's trail, all the while remembering a treasured nursery rhyme as I fought to keep my sanity. I had to keep breathing for Henry's scent, but every breath brought the glorious smells of human blood. I ran through the town so fast that anyone I passed waved me off as the breeze. I knew that if they attempted to pursue me they would meet an untimely end. Better they never knew I was even there.

Fluidly I leaped over the town wall, gradually catching up with Henry. The leaves rustled as I pushed through the thick greenery in the forest, several small animals ran from the area. Their hearts raced in what could only be described as a natural fear of the ultimate predator. I was not interested in these rodents, I shuddered at the thought. I laughed when I remembered what I was holding in my arms though. Here I was holding the dead body from which I took blood into my own body and now I was disgusted by the thought of drinking an animal's blood.

It was a testimony to how the creature poisoned my mind, making even my own sanity, insane. Already I was a shadow of my former self; the teachings of my childhood were buried deep—and never forgotten. I could remember my mother telling me how she'd seen the people of the city run from London Bridge as the houses atop it burnt and their broken wood structures were taken in by the river Thames. It was one of the most fascinating things she'd ever seen she said. I could still remember that, but that was only one thing.

"Isabella?" Henry wondered, concerned as he took in my suddenly frozen state with clear red eyes. When had he appeared? When had I stopped noticing? I was falling to pieces, though I thought I built a steady resolve. I needed to live my life as it had been given, but I could not move past what I had become as my throat burned and the weight of my victim's empty body bore down on me. I was a killer. "Stop it now." Henry was free of the other body; I guessed he had already disposed of it. He didn't like how badly I was reacting to the vampirism. But he was as sympathetic as he was empathetic, and for some twisted reason I appreciated his company in this desolate time. I appreciated it, even though he had brought it upon me. He put a cool hand on my quivering shoulder in an effort to comfort me.

I'd thought my life was decided for me until it was ripped away, and I hated it. Nothing was stable in anyone's life. I had come to realise that now.

And suddenly…I was falling down, just as the bridge had.

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