Daylight shone through the windows, chasing away my fears. In the clear light of day, my mind calmed, and my tense muscles began to relax. Sunrise smashed my fears to bits, like it had when I was small. Except I was older now. And the monsters of the night were real.
I chose to hunt vampires in the morning, in the bright sunlight. I wanted every advantage in a fight. My plan was to track the vampire to his lair, and fight him underground by light of day. That way, if necessary, I could run from the fight and come out into the sunlight where he couldn't follow. It was a good plan. Risk free, sensible, and well thought out.
Except for the bit where I tracked a vampire to his lair. And the bit where I managed to beat said vampire in a fight and still be able to walk home. And the bit where I went looking for the thing that was trying to kill me.
So, late that afternoon I was still marching determinedly through the featureless countryside, no closer to staking my vampire. I no longer had a plan, other than not giving up. The day wore on, and it got later and later. I hadn't eaten since that morning. I'd had next to nothing to drink. My head ached, my bruises throbbed, and I was falling-down tired.
But for some reason I didn't turn round. Stubbornness, I suppose. It got later still. The sun began to set. I was miles from anywhere. I didn't have a map or a compass. I couldn't see a thing through the thickening gloom.
It was then that I started to get scared. It should have been earlier, but I'm a fool.
If I met my vampire now I'd be fighting under his terms. In the dark, on ground I didn't know, when I was tired and hungry. I kept walking, as if I no longer controlled my own legs. I stumbled with exhaustion, but kept on walking, for no reason I could understand.
A soft rustle whispered from the undergrowth. I froze solid, not moving, scarcely breathing. I waited that way for a long time, but my patience isn't limitless. In the end I walked on, shrugging the movement off some animal.
Something hit me, hard, just bellow my ribs. I felt no fear; I had no energy left for emotion. I turned fast, my arm only just knocking aside the next strike, but I was given no time to adjust myself. Backing up swiftly I barely held my own. Pivoting carefully I angled my strike. I had one chance and one chance only. My aim ran true, striking my assailant through the heart, wood piercing the skin, and the muscle beneath it.
The vampire gasped in shock, staring at me and my makeshift stake. He cried out in pain; real, human, pain. And called out to the skies, accusingly, "But I was supposed to live forever!"
Then his body fell to ashes, blown away on the wind. But his words, and his pain, robbed my victory of joy. I walked the lonely path back to my home, each step an agonizing ordeal.
I ate, and slept, and woke again. Whatever I did his words echoed in my mind, giving me no peace. He was evil. He deserved to die. But I wouldn't agree to kill a human for that; it wouldn't be right. Maybe in self-defence, if they left me like this. I wouldn't have hunted another person down. The vampire, the monster, chose not to kill me in the heat of battle. He struck first, yes. But I would have done the same. That vampire might've killed me, so I killed him. Maybe he felt that way too; maybe he was scared of me.
Maybe I am the monster. Maybe, maybe. I wish there was someone to talk to. Too much time alone leads to introspection. I just want to do the right thing; I just want to survive, build a life for myself, without destroying someone else's.
Is that too much to ask? Is it a choice, then, between my life and the lives of countless others?