Eternity
We are forever now, thanks to you. I look in the mirror and my face is not there. My skin is white like paper. I haven't seen the sun rise for years, and I will not say I don't miss it, but I can hardly remember what it was like. Everything is so clear now, every sound so loud, every smell so heavy, every emotion so…far away from me. Detachment you call it, and I realise that it is what you have always practised, only now it comes naturally, not forced. I would say I hate it, but because of it I hardly know hate anymore. Only my love for you still makes me weak.
I had not seen you in months, and I was missing you terribly. Waking up in the middle of the night to find you in my room was a shock of course, but nothing compared to the terror that struck me when you bared your fangs and let me in on your secret. I got the choice of following you then, into eternity. What a choice. I should have thought about it longer, but it was dark and you were…strangely alluring. Intense and graceful and gorgeous, you stood by my bedroom window, waiting for me to decide. The moonlight fell on your slate hair and full lips and blue triangles. You said you loved me. I was undone.
It hurt, the bite, of course it did, but there was something powerful and sensual in the way you held me, the way I gave you life. I could feel your heart beat faster against my chest, and I felt my own slowing. Then, when the world had been washed into a sea of fog and I could hardly keep my eyes open, you gave me your blood in return. What bond can surpass the bond of blood?
We ran away, with only a letter remaining to say all the things I needed to say. The first day we lay together in your coffin. You carried me, kissing my hair as you lowered me into it. I felt sick and dizzy, but you told me that it was just the death of my body, and that it would pass. Having your arms around me was a dream come true, but I had no mind to savour it then. When the lid came on I knew that I was not going back, but even as I despaired I was claimed by a sleep deeper and darker than any I have known before.
You say I kill with grace. What it means I am not sure, but it seems fitting; I am a tiger after all. All I know is that every night a terrible hunger forces me to leave the house and prowl the streets for a prey. I have gotten used to the kill somehow; it is probably the one thing I can thank my detachment for. Still I can't deny the pleasure of putting my arms around a pretty girl, feeling the warmth of her body, burying my nose in her hair and trailing my lips over her neck, finding a vein, but her giggles always turn to screams when I burry my fangs in her soft flesh. That is the moment that I hate the most, until her sweet blood flows over my lips and into my veins, and I can no longer hear her over the rush in my ears. Slow unease, sharp regret and overpowering pleasure; this is what my kill is like. But you call me graceful, and say that my women should be grateful to die in such a beautiful way.
You hunt like the phoenix you are; your attack swift and deadly. Your victims will find no mercy, though they plead, because you have no heart for such, but I have seen you regret, I have. You killed a child once, a boy, and his mother discovered you as you drank. In fear and desperation you killed her too. Later you came home to me, pale despite the new life in your veins. I kissed your lips, red and ripe from the blood, and I saw you needed reassurance. The mother had gone insane upon seeing her dying child. Such a reaction was foreign to you, but must have awoken a longing in you like you have rarely known.
See how I know you, beloved?
They searched for us, but of course we never let ourselves be found. They read my letter, which didn't explain anything, and they mourned us as dead. It's funny; we are dead, but we still walk this earth, and we can still touch all the things that make up the humans' material world. You decided it was best to leave all the old things behind; friends and family and possessions alike. Your money got us a new house, and I have never lacked anything. It is just you and me here, but it is enough.
You dress me up and put me on your lap and call me your lover, and I am yours each time, completely and unquestioningly. And each time I fear for the day when you will tire of me. Forever never had a meaning like it has now, while someday has lost all meaning. Years pass into each other, and we have no more fear of not living to see this or that. We will live to see the world go under.
We live much like we used to; blading together, going to nightclubs and hanging with friends, but I never get to know anyone because of the fear of being discovered. A mirror is all it takes to blow our cover, and if anyone found out about us they would have us hunted down and killed. Modern society would give us nowhere to hide. So each night we find a new couple to hang with. Sometimes we end up killing them. It is a lonely existence, but with you there I can keep going.
We have a small garden with a single, strong tree. I like to sit on the biggest branch, where I am hidden by leaves, and watch the sky or the people walking by. Sometimes you join me, climbing up and sitting down beside me. Maybe you are just back from your hunt. Maybe you put your hand in mine, silently. And maybe I turn and we kiss and end up making love on the branch and nearly falling off. Or maybe we just sit there. We have so much time now, so much time.
You are coming home. It is not that you bang the door shut and shout my name to see if I am in, or that you make a lot of noise walking up the stairs or anything; you are as silent and secretive as you have always been, hardly disturbing the quiet of the night. It is just that whenever you are near I seem to know, and something inside of me goes quiet and stops calling out. And soon you are standing in the doorway to my room, your cheeks flushed and your eyes alight from your hunt. I run to your embrace and know that as long as you don't tire of me I can live like this forever. And I will.
Forever in the arms of my vampire.