They say that pain can be calming, numbing, beautiful. A distraction from the chaos in your mind. It’s a lie. That numbing feeling isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and it passes with each drop blood on the white tiles of the cold floor. My mind is swirling from the alcohol and the gruesome images in my head. Kane’s dead. Only the guy broken in front of me isn’t Luke. I have no idea who he is; what he’s done wrong. I don’t know. His blood coats my brown hair and drenches my half-naked body. I feel incredible as the memories come rushing back.
He saw me on the streets and offered to drive me home. I accepted and even invited him inside. He looked enough like Kane, although no mortal could ever possess his devilish beauty and charm let alone his sheer perfection. There is no way I can cope with the loss but this, this alleviates the pain for a few hours then the urge returns. The urge to sink my fangs into warm flesh and drench my claws in sticky crimson beauty. That’s why I did it, the poor boy was so mesmerised he accepted the invitation immediately and as soon as he was naked; I wasted no time in fulfilling my urges. He was plastered all over my walls by this and I reveled in the beauty; the intoxication brought by his scent and the relief I felt. Kane’s death was no longer imprinted in my mind and for the first time in years, the pain was gone and I could sleep.
That day revived me, I was free of my pain if only momentarily. The pain felt by my victims rid me of the pain inside and that’s enough for me. I don’t care how many men I must take over the course of my long life, if it makes me feel like this. This is beauty, this is power. This is me. I am numb.