Aphelion

by The Moonlily

How do you live forever when your very existence is the anthithesis of what you used to be? How do you go on when all you have known and loved is gone? How do the first hundred years pass by? And, finally, how does the story end? This is the last part of Alfred's journey of self-discovery and his impossible love that began with "A Deal with the Devil".

11. Chapter 11

Margeta's death introduced Alfred into yet another dark time in his existence. Full of guilt and self-loathing, he once more thought of ending his wretched life. In fact, the thought of hell seemed inviting; he'd have to pay for all the awful things he had done and perhaps she'd rest peacefully when her murderer suffered eternal damnation. In a way, he already was in hell.

But just like before, Alfred did not find the strength to do it. Several times he sat with the wooden stake against his chest, his insides curling with dreadful anticipation. In the end, he just was too weak to do it.

When he gazed at the sharp point of the stake he had himself carved, he couldn't help but feel intense despair. What would his parents, and especially his mother, say if they saw him now? How would they lament if they knew how very low he had fallen and what monster he had become! He could imagine the disgust and horror on their faces as they looked at him. In fact, he even doubted they'd recognise what he was.

This was not the kind of man they had raised him to be.

With a shout of frustration and helpless anger, he threw the stake away and buried his face in his hands. If only there had been some way to make this all better... if only he could somehow turn back time and...

And what? Turn away when he had been offered the position as an assistant for a professor? Not pay attention to Sarah? Find some other way to save her? Not... not fall in love?

He had known he'd fall – fall hard, and that it'd hurt. How else could it end with a vampire? Yet he had just let it happen. All the misery it had caused... and all that blissful, glorious happiness he had felt... All of it for nothing.

For nothing... No. It didn't have to be for nothing. None of it had to be for nothing. He could be a better man, or if he couldn't be that, he'd at least try to be a very well-behaved monster.

Squeezing his hands in to fists, he lifted his face and let out a deep, wavering breath. Perhaps there was a way he could overcome this... no one had to die for him, if he just fought it... if he learned to control his hunger. And perhaps there were better ways than taking his life to make amends for all the bad things he had done.