So I'm a Vampire... Now What? - Book 2 (Original Version)

Chapter 4.4 A Family Affair (pt 4)

Sidenote: it might have been useful if Ronnie had actually had some kind of journal or book that took her through the entire journey of my first year as a vampire. Maybe I'll write it down someday and call it, I dunno, maybe something like "So I Might Be a Vampire" or something like that.

Someday, right?

And I'm totally not winking here, promise.

***

"So the first time you actually killed someone was with that monster? You've never actually killed a real person?"

I actually opened my mouth to protest that vampires were people too. I stopped myself, remembering Daemien, remembering how he died... And there it was, that sliver of doubt, that moment of "what-if" I had experienced earlier.

"You don't become a vampire and suddenly develop the ability to just up and kill a dude. The thought of killing somebody still utterly terrifies me, and I'm glad. Killing someone scars you. It's a big fucking deal, and it should be. So no: I'm not a killer."

Ronnie stared at me in wide-eyed wonder. I couldn't figure out if she was scared or just shocked by everything I had told her over the past hour. It was the kind of conversation that had stopped and started and meandered when she wanted to know more or had just thought I was straight-up lying. Of course, I had tried to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, but the urge to make myself look like a badass is such a strong one. It's better than making myself look like a goddamn idiot.

All I wanted to do was sleep, and all of a sudden I was hungry.

"You have no idea how much of a relief it is to hear you explain stuff. You say 'vampire,' and I'm here thinking 'God, does this mean he's killing people now'?"

It was 11 AM by that time, and it was way past my bedtime. Claude was in the kitchen cooking up a storm, so there was the delicious smell of bacon, eggs and possibly pancakes assaulting my senses.

Claude had brought groceries when he had picked up Ronnie from the bus station. These days, him bringing food is almost an automatic thing. Since he knew the exact deplorable and desperate state of my fridge and my finances, the grocery store was the first stop.

The smell of the bacon was the only thing keeping me awake.

"I'm actually having a hard time processing the whole murder thing," I finally admitted after a long moment of silence. I have no idea why I said it and had in fact been preparing to say something else, but that was what came out instead. The plain unvarnished truth. I looked at Ronnie and Claude and thought I could see some of my pain reflected in their eyes.

"I thought it would be easier than this, since he was such a monstrous shit, you know? But the fucking guilt is still there. Right there in my fucking face, especially when I don't want it. Like he was an actual person and not a fucking douchebag monster. Like... what the actual fuck, you know?"

Ronnie just looked at me, and I realized that she was crying.

"I know what you mean," she said hollowly. "It's like he's right inside my head and I feel so... shitty about how we killed him. Actual guilt. I don't want to feel like this. I want to feel the anger that this motherfucker deserved, not guilty for having killed him. It's just... unfair."

Ronnie shook her head. "Auntie Rosita doesn't even want to talk about it. Nobody does. It's like they just want to pretend that everything is normal, like ignoring it will make it not have happened. I can't deal with that, you know? I process things different."