Vampire Days

Chapter 34: It's A Drunk Bat

Running as fast as I could, I threw away caution and escaped like Death was closely in pursuit. Which wasn't in line with my character, because I would definitely stop and wait for Death right now.

I carelessly hopped down a lower building and snagged my foot on one stray electric cable running along a parapet, dragging me backwards, the force of my momentum drove my face straight into the concrete floor. The impact shot to my brain like a lightning tearing through the darkness. I refused to budge for several seconds, wincing in pain but I could already feel my face slowly mending itself.

My body is the last thing I should worry about, anyway. I'm beginning to rot, dramatically speaking, but my instinct fought for justification.

Starving, waiting for drops of blood from a charitable doll, acting like I'm still fully  in control of my humanity--- That's just an ideal. Pretending like it didn't bother me when hunger drove me crazy was just self-righteousness, but the truth was that I can never be human no matter how much I abstain from drinking a decent amount of blood. At the end of the day blood was still the thing that I crave so much, not humanity nor dignity.

I'm a real vampire, I thought as I hauled myself up. I shouldn't hold back. Even creatures like me have the right to sate our constant hunger. No, that sounds wrong.

Especially a creature like me. I needed to be sated to sit still and coexist. Being on edge constantly would only "cause harm to the population", as the comic books would say.

Sprinting  along the rooftops and jumping from one building to another became such a fun game that I even wished for an audience. Let them see me. Here's a vampire frolicking in the shadows, with all the flickering city lights and blaring traffic beneath him. I exist and I can do this kind of awesome stunts that you people wished you could do growing up. A big part of me wanted to take pride in this big secret that only I have.

I leapt as hard and as far as I could, closing my eyes to at least shut the insistent voice in my brain. Reason, reason, reason. All it does is give me reasons to believe that nothing I do could be wrong, at least some part of my sanity was aware of that. Barely.

I was savoring the sensation of being thrown into the air when my body rammed full impact into thick metal and the deafening clangs dragged the logic back into my head. I staggered back, covering my ears from the lethal sound that vibrated throughout my body like a thousand whips stitching what remained of my soul back into its anchor. But my foot didn't land on solid ground, instead I slid down the winding stairs before finally falling off into the middle right below the church bell. Like a drunk bat.

Right then I heard the scrambling of running footsteps but my body was writhing in pain and I can't seem to control it. If I don't get up now and escape, I'm fucking done.

This is what you wanted right? Audience? Now people are going to watch you around the clock and you'll spend eternity being harvested to become a subject for endless experiments.

Muttering a string of curses, I crawled to drag myself up but I slumped back,  the sensation of my joints lost and forgotten. They're closer now, louder footsteps, hushed voices and jiggling keys.

How, do I fucking explain ending up in a belfry?

Too late. The squeaky metal gate opened and I squinted at the flashlight trained on my face.

"How did you end up here?" an old man breathlessly asked,  wearing a brownish tunic and reaching up to his ankles. On his feet right in front of me was a really old leather loafer that smelled like ancient feet and some hints of rotten fruit.

"I. . . I got stuck," I stammered, still clawing at the dusty floor. I decided to wing it. Act like a stubborn youngster who doesn't think much of adults. It's not that hard because there were only a few old people that I truly respect. Most just don't earn it.