A Vampire’s Diary
A Vampire’s Diary
I am restless. My work is suffering. Arabella afforded me nothing. Her essence, her precious vitality was wasted, spilled on the ground.
That foolish, stupid girl. Lillian. Her interruption cost me dearly.
I take comfort in only the fact that the finger of blame is now firmly planted upon her head.
No one suspects me. I’m as invisible as I ever was.
As I always have been. I walk among them, dance among them, and serve them, yet they ignore me.
They think themselves above me and always have.
Well. Someday, everyone will know my name.
The prostitute I took home after my failed conquest of Arabella did little to slake my urges.
I considered killing her and using her blood, but her red hair was only a ruse.
A wig. The thatch of hair between her thighs was dark as pitch.
After she left, I felt nothing. Only emptiness.
It’s in these moments that I miss Rebecca the most. Warm, willing Rebecca. How I mourn her.
I must extend my hunting ground. I need more blood. I will go utterly mad if my work bears no fruit. It must.