In My skin
AllyI don’t remember much of my life when I was human. Though like any vampire- well, I’m a hybrid half vampire half human. I don’t remember much about who created me either. I don’t go to church, but did not believe in or think of myself as damned simply because I didn’t attend. There was always one thing I’d wanted to know; not so much did I wish to know who created me, but why? And for what purpose did I serve other than to walk this Earth? Why was I left with such powers as these? I will mention more about that later.
I know I didn’t have much to lose, to begin with and not much of a life to go back to when it was left. I have an Alcoholic Father, and a drug addict for a Mother. There was not much to leave so it wouldn’t be hard to leave. I wouldn’t be missed, if my parents were capable of such a thing I’d probably jump for joy.
I’m not saying I’m a Saint, either but maybe that’s why he picked me: I’m not a Saint. Later as I aged I would learn different. Most, but not all vampires cared for past human life problems, because none of them remembered their mirror image or former selves. No such vampire I knew of (yet) existed.
I was all alone tonight in the cool streets. I was leaving, or about to leave my house after an argument with my mother (for the last time).
“Mom, why don’t you just leave him?” I had asked.
“It’s not that simple baby, he’s sick possibly dying in his old age.” She had informed me. “He made a promise to someone and he-“she broke off when I interrupted her.
“Don’t say he made a promise he’s intending to keep. You know he’s bad about that. He probably just made the deal to support himself. Face it mom, he doesn’t care about you or me or anybody but himself. And you’re a liar, he hasn’t aged a day! Who did he piss off this time? I asked her and it didn’t surprise me to know that he had. I continued, “The wrong person apparently,” I back sassed her, “his age is frozen,” I yell once more, and it was true. Every day he grew hungrier for blood and stronger from his growing power gained when he’d been blessed with an immortal’s blood, a damn’s blood. He had willingly accepted his fate, and to escape my home life, I would even more so unwillingly accept mine. I would go through that door with no intentions to return to that place that I used to call my home. I with each un intended return many centuries after I died, would become more and more detached from it. I was uprooted from it, where I could’ve had or at least made a life for myself, but he took that all away or at least he would.