I staggered up from the ground, my eyes straining through the darkness. My heart beat like a bongo drum in my chest, fast and wild. Pain ripped through me- like a knife through the heart.
The alleyway was dirty, the ground littered with potato peelings and horse manure from the carts that rumbled along in the daytime. I didn't know where I was, and couldn't care less in this state, but I hadn't moved for three days so I must still have been in London. I looked down at my body, lanky and pale in a sliver of moonlight that cascaded like a silver river down from the dark sky. I could see my wounds, every cut that covered my body, every slash and tear and rip in my skin. My body felt like it was burning, liquid flames tearing at my flesh. I was on fire.
Would the pain never end? Was this what it felt like to be in hell? I couldn't understand. I hadn't lived a sin-free life, but it was as close as you could get. My father had never let me put a toe out of line, and I had obeyed him.
I put a shaky hand on my chest. My heart was slower now, giving in. My conscious mind was telling me to give up, take my last breath, and let the fire have me. For the first time in my life, I rebelled.
"I can't die now," I whispered. My voice sounded strong through the pain that laced my every word. My heart spluttered… and a jolt of pain swept through me. My knees buckled, and I landed face-first in a large pile of manure.
I didn't have the strength to move, I didn't have the will to move, and I couldn't even smell what I had landed in. I closed my eyes, and gave in.
The first thing I noticed was that the pain had stopped. My body felt light, and cold, like I had just immersed myself in a bath that had been standing too long. The second thing I noticed was the disgusting smell all around me.
In a second, I had jumped up, and sprung away from the manure. I surprised myself with how fast I had moved- I was now on the other side of the street. I looked down at my body, and my eyes widened. My exposed thighs that were showing through my ripped trousers were muscled and pale, the skin looking almost as white as ice. I ran a hand through my hair- it felt the same, but softer, like a fluffy feather pillow.
I looked down at my feet, and saw two things. The first was a nail, and the second was a puddle. Not very significant things, you could say, but they were to me. They were the things that showed me for what I truly am.
I looked into the dirty puddle of liquid, not wondering what it could be, because it wasn't water. The first thing that struck me was my reflection. I had a pair of ruby red eyes.
"No!" I shouted. I continued in a whisper, "This can't be happening, not to me!"
I looked down at the nail and suddenly brought my foot down on it, meaning to stab it into my flesh. Instead, when I lifted my bare foot, I saw a pile of dust. "I can't be one of them! Not when I have hunted them so passionately."
That pair of red eyes looked back at me, mocking. I stared at them for what felt like hours, until I began to see compassion in them, sadness, and understanding. I didn't have to be a monster- after all, I was still myself. To save others, I would kill myself.
The sprint out of the city took less than ten minutes- London was much smaller those days than it is now. My vampire speed helped as well. It only took me another three hours to make it to Dover, and the White Cliffs. Before I reached Dover, I had already tried to suffocate myself, crack my head against a wall to break my skull, stick a twig up my nose into my brain, and break my back by jumping off a high building.
Nothing worked.
The white cliffs of Dover were as high as everyone said they were. Higher, it seemed to me. As the lightning broke apart the sky, I saw the thrashing, roiling waves, and my stomach lurched. At least I would die quickly, if I could drown.
I stepped towards the edge of the cliff, my toes wrapped around the rock face. Before I knew it, I had jumped, and the ground was flying away above me.
And the sensation of falling was freedom.
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