I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't mean for her to die.
It started like any other fall day. The weather in New England was crisp and cool and the leaves were beginning to collect on the ground. The town in which I lived was bustling as children collected their costumes and parents fought over the perfect pumpkin. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Nothing was unusual. Except for me of course.
You see, this was the 150th fall I would experience. I don't know how or why but once I had reached the age of 24 I stopped aging. I went to war and while others died around me I came out unscathed. It appeared that I was untouchable. I was immortal. At first I thought it must be a miracle, but as the plague slowly took all of my loved ones I thought differently. It was a curse. I could never love. I could never truly live, and as the years passed I became more and more lonely. Until now, until her.
Ophelia was unlike anyone I had ever met. When I moved to this small town just four short years ago she took my breath away. I had gone into the bakery to see which sweet would satisfy my appetite and the brunette who stood at the counter was more than I could have ever hoped for. She had flour smeared on her apron, and a smattering of it on her nose. Her smile could have lit up a room and her laugh was contagious.
I went to that bakery every day for a week before she agreed to go out with me, and after six long months of dating I proposed. I finally felt the want to live, the need to live. I had fallen head over heels in love with Ophelia, and she felt the same. We were the talk of the town but that wasn't a good thing, at least for me it wasn't. Four years and not one change in appearance was going to raise suspicion. Ophelia knew of my condition of course but she was the only one.
If I stayed much longer people would start asking questions. How do you still look the same? How are you never ill? How do your wounds heal in the blink of an eye? My condition was perplexing. I, myself, still didn't know the bounds of it and I had never come into contact with another immortal. But I knew I wouldn't be accepted; I would be seen as a threat. A threat that could not be defeated.
So once we were married, Ophelia decided that we should leave and start fresh somewhere new. Our wedding day passed and we had finally decided where we would call home. As we worked on packing up our house, Ophelia continued to ask questions about my immortality. She wanted to learn everything she could about how I came to be. That night as we relaxed in our sea of boxes with a glass of wine Ophelia asked if she could become like me.
The thought that I could make someone like me was something I had never considered. Weeks passed after our conversation before Ophelia confronted me again. She had found a way. My love had traveled four hours away to meet with a witch who had explained my condition. All she would have to do is drink my blood and she would be like me.
So before we left New England, Ophelia was to become immortal. We followed the written instructions that the witch had given my wife. Ophelia didn't eat or drink beforehand, we consummated the bond just minutes before, and finally Ophelia drank a glass of my fresh blood.
Nothing seemed to happen at first, we continued to cuddle in bed as we let the blood settle in her stomach. And then she began to shiver until her whole body shook.
"Don't worry, it must be normal," she told me as she gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.
I tried not to worry, immortality would not be gained easily, but as she grew sicker and stiller my heart raced. Soon enough, Ophelia could hardly lift her limbs and her skin was cold as ice. I stayed awake all night and watched her closely. And finally as morning broke my wife got better. Color returned to her skin and she was warm to touch.
"My love, please open your eyes," I pleaded with her.
Ophelia's eyes fluttered open but it wasn't the same person who stared back at me. The warmth and love was gone from her gaze. She reached out and took my hand roughly in hers and it was then I knew she was gone. I had killed her. Ophelia wasn't Ophelia anymore. Her heart had stopped in more ways than one.
I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't mean for her to die.
(( Please excuse this random story I wrote while taking a break from my studies. It hasn't been proofread and I'm working on three hours of sleep so....yeah x. kate ))
