He waited long into the night. Hopefully no one would be so half witted as to remain out of doors, perhaps the other vampires, he didn't like to even think of the name and cringed, perhaps they had been chased out of town or maybe they had been caught? Either way, he was not going to stay to find out. The moon rose behind the billowing smoke issuing from the peacefully ignorant houses. Everyone was sitting down to meals, praying for their health, for lost souls. He would now be included in those prayers, as much as he didn't deserve it now. He peeked from his self made prison. The streets were empty. If he made it out down North Street that would lead him out to the forest. Away from prying eyes and he would be able to think, he hoped.
He found he had extraordinary speed. He was soon out beyond the towns boundaries. And he had not come across a single soul. All the better for them he thought darkly.
He slowed down and stopped under a tree. Moonlight filtered through the branches, he sat on a fallen tree, letting his mind process all that had happened, when he noticed his hands. He turned them in the faint light. They were not the sun touched hands that he knew. They were milk white, he flexed his fingers and looked at his palms and then again at the back of his hands, no longer where there veins, blue with blood pumping in them, just a glossy white skin that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. Anger overtook him and he slammed his fist into the tree trunk. It didn't hurt like he hoped it would have. Instead a perfect mould of his fist remained on the innocent tree.
He growled and in a desperate fit tore his belt off and tied it around his neck and jumped for the nearest limb of the tree. He fixed the other end to it and let himself fall. He was going to hell no matter what, if not for what he had become, surely for taking one's life. The desired effect was not met. He swung back and forth, nothing was affected, not his breathing, he barely felt any constricting, if anything the belt snapped and he landed with a thud on the ground. There he lay, defeated, he dug his hands in the dirt and lay there, face down. He screwed his face up and pounded the earth and leaves in frustration.
He stood and bolted head first through the trees. Even in the black of night he didn't hit a single trunk. Maybe if he did he pondered. He ran purposely into a tree trunk. It did nothing to him but felled the tree in one movement. 'Gah' he let out in exasperation. He was not hurt in the slightest. He stood stock still and listened intently. He closed his eyes and could hear water running in the distance. He turned north west and ran, this was easy, but no, he wasn't going to revel in the new found speed. This was a gift from Hades, and a gift not to be treasured or accepted. He followed the sound of water, which was a gentle babbling, it had to start somewhere after all.
He did not intend to live with the devils gifts. If there was any way to bargain for his soul he would use any means possible. If St Peter did guard those gates maybe he could convince him that if he hadn't used the devils gifts he may have a chance at heaven. This pulled him up short and he stopped suddenly. He began to laugh at himself, the idea of standing before the gates and arguing with the lords right hand man.
"Bargaining at the gates of Heaven?" he chortled to himself. He started laughing out loud at himself. "Why on God's green earth should.." he dissolved into hysterical laughter again. He was kidding himself for even trying. But he could not stop laughing, it wasn't funny. It was beyond a joke, and he could not stop himself. He was mad. Crazy. A lunatic. A monster. He sobered quickly at this thought and remembered what he was doing, tracing the source of the water. He heard it before he saw it, the pounding of the water tumbling over the waterfall. The air became cooler and damp as he approached.
He slowed down to a walk and walked purposely up the hill to the edge. The roar of the water spilling hundreds of feet below him was so loud to his ears. He picked up a stone to throw it straight down, but he accidentally crushed it like the potato. Frustrated at this he picked up another and threw it down into the mist swirling at the bottom and heard it smash into rocks that couldn't be seen through the water spray. He didn't need to think twice, he took a running jump and dove over the edge, letting himself almost fly through the night to the dark and sharp rocks that would hopefully bring eternal night, and if they didn't, the water would. "Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, they will be done, on earth as it is in heaven, give us today our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses" he spoke as he tumbled toward the rocks, "as we forgive those who trespass against us and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil" he spluttered out as the rocks came into sharp focus, inches from his face, he cringed, prepared for the pain. But there was none.
He bounced around the rocks, his clothes tearing and ripping. Yet still he did not die. He let himself drift and be pulled under by the current. It did not affect him the way it would have days ago. He drifted to the surface, the air hit his face. As he came to realise, he could not cry, the water on his face replaced real tears. It was the nearest he was going to get. He drifted back with the current to the pounding waterfall and let it push him under.
The water pushed him under and out on its current, where he washed up on the shore, his clothes sodden and ruined and now encrusted with dirt from the shoreline.