Do you remember how I first glimpsed into your life? I don't think you would since you were barely conscious that time. It wasn't such an innocent coincidence. I bet you know that now, don't you. I bet you hate me for that now, don't you. How could I have known that I would love you.

I waited by the door, expecting to hear your footsteps anytime now. I had been told the time, the part I was meant to play. I didn't expect you to march right past my door to your own. But I didn't expect you to turn up the way you did either.

I heard your breathing first; strangely laboured. Then I heard thuds and dragged feet, instead of your usually so sure footsteps. I heard you struggling with your keys. And that was my cue. I prepared myself to face you. I thought all I had to do was help you, flash a charming smile at you and worm my way into your heart. I wish that was all I had to do because if that was it, we wouldn't have our worlds overlapped this way.

I opened my door. You were slumped on the ground in a pool of blood, clutching your chest. Your eyes were barely open, your face so pale, lips almost blue, knuckles bone white. The keys were still in your firm grasp that I had to pry your cold, almost-dead fingers from them. Even when you're half dead you could be so stubborn, so adamant that nobody enter your circle. If only you were more adamant, insisting that I scuttle back to my apartment and leave you to fend for yourself, maybe our worlds wouldn't have overlapped this way.

You protested at first when I tried to touch you. But then you were too weak to do a thing so I dragged you to your bed. "Get out," you rasped at me, voice barely audible. Your sheets were turning red, soaked in your blood. I admit I was terrified. This was more than what I had bargained for. I didn't expect you to turn up in such a bloody fashion. I didn't know then that I was in over my head.

I took hold of your body, peeling the torn white-stained-red shirt stuck to your body. You protested, put up such a fight, threatened even to kill me. I didn't know that you weren't talking to me, that you were talking to your nightmare. Am I your current nightmare?

"Don't touch me… Let go… Let go now… I'll kill you… I swear I will…. Don't you dare touch me. Fuck off bitch…" But your protests came in murmurs. You were so weak, your body feverish even from the cold rain that had drenched you. And by the time I was done drying your body, you were more than unconscious. You were hallucinating; your handsome face contorted in such pain, mumbling things I couldn't make out, the tone in your voice ever so heartbreakingly desperate, your knuckles white from gripping the sides of the bed so tightly, your breaths coming out in short laboured rasps.

I shushed you, trying to hold you down as you thrashed against your nightmare, fighting off the predator in your dreams. You were trembling violently, your jaw clenched so tightly. I held you down, having to lie down on you just to keep you from falling off the bed. I felt you shivering beneath me, but you had stopped struggling. I laid there for what felt like hours, making sure that you were sound asleep before I moved off you.

But the moment I did, you jolted. Your hand flew to your throat, clawing your own skin, as your other trembling hand held my wrist in your firm grip. "You're hurting me. Let go." Your eyes suddenly opened, but they were different. There was this confused look in your eyes, as if not knowing what to do with me. Knowing what I do now, you were probably contemplating whether to drink or push. There was this other strange expression, looking a lot like self-restraint and agony mixed in one.

Your scent… Oh God please stop this. I have never had human blood, never allowed myself to come near enough to be captivated because I knew my own handicap, never had something so sweet so temptingly close. And I was so cold, numb from the inside. And you were so warm, so tempting. At first, when you were lying with me, I thought just tasting the air around you would be the furthest I would allow myself to go. I had misjudged my own ability. That was a sin in itself, something so wrong. Then you moved away and this shocking pain jolted through my system.

You were my drug, and I was hooked even though I was on it for such a short while. Taking it away from me ignited this instant withdrawal symptom, this hunger, this need that had lain dormant for so long. I wanted you. No, I needed you. Damn me to the bottommost pits of hell for this but I've never wanted something I couldn't have so badly before.

Your scared eyes bore into mine. You wanted me to let go. I wanted me to let go. Yet I couldn't. The monster in me refused. The human in me was fighting a losing battle. I wanted you to be able to break free from my grip and run from me. But I also wanted your blood.

"Tell me what you need. Please, I'll go get it for you. I'll go get a doctor." You closed your eyes, squeezing them tightly. "My pills. There." You gestured weakly towards your side table. You still wouldn't let me go. I reached for your metal box. "How many?" "Doesn't matter." Your voice sounded as if you were expanding all your energy for these few words. I know now, that you were. You swallowed two down straight. You still refused to let go of me. "More." You swallowed down another three. Only then did your grip loosened up slightly, just enough for me to break free. Your breathing seemed to stabilize for just a moment.

Then your half open eyes flew wide open. You pulled yourself off the bed, pushing me aside as I tried to help you, half dragging yourself to the bathroom where you tried to close the door but I pushed it open. And you didn't have any choice because the next moment you were retching. I stood over you, holding you, stroking your back as you vomited blood all over the toilet, your body shivering worse than before.

And when you were done, you were so weak, barely able to hold yourself up yet your eyes stared at me with this look I now recognise as the look that's telling me to leave and not hurt myself. I wiped the blood off your lips with the back of my hand. You closed your eyes; the expression on your face reminded me of someone savouring something forbidden. Then as suddenly as it had appeared, that expression disappeared and you staggered up.

I stood up with you, trying to support you but you leaned on the wall instead. You held my arm and led me to your apartment door with one side of your body dragging against the walls. "Thank you. You may leave now." Your voice was still weak but you were extremely sure when you opened the door and nudged me out gently.

And I was left confused at your bizarre appearance and strange behaviour. But something in me came alive that day. From that day onwards, I wanted to be near you, to know everything about you; not because I had to as I had been deluding myself into believing, but because I genuinely wanted to know.

I wanted to know how you became this way. A million possibilities passed through my mind because I truly didn't know what you were. I thought you were sick with some incurable disease so you were pushing everyone from you, afraid of hurting them when you leave. I thought you were abused as a child, leaving you bitter with resentment towards people and some internal organ damage. I thought maybe you fell in love with a girl you who were your boss's woman and he had sent someone to kill you and you escaped narrowly. I thought that you were in love with the daughter of a mob boss who disapproved of your status and wanted you to disappear. All those seem trivial compared to what you were really going through.

I wanted to know your pain. I wanted to understand why. I wanted to heal you. Little did I know that I would be the one to hurt you more than that.

After 2 months, I have practically the entire story structured in my mind but no time to write it.

My thoughts go out to the nation that produced the beloved Vampire Knight. Hope you keep your spirit alive and not give up hope. God bless.