Chapter 11

An evil curse which I happily accepted under false pretenses.

I believed that he was my savior.

He promised me the world.

He promised me an everlasting love.

He promised me an everlasting life.

He was evil and what he gave me was everlasting torment.

I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to try it just that one time.

Now, sitting on the basement floor, handcuffed to a pipe, awaiting death, I stopped making excuses for myself.

I had made all of my own choices and I will now pay for them with my life.

I close my eyes and try to sleep to pass the time.

It has been days – maybe four? – and I can feel myself rapidly weakening. I’ve already soiled myself a few times, but I don’t care. That pitiful and unintentional atonement will never erase the terror that I’ve wrought down upon so many innocent souls. Perhaps only my death will be atonement enough.

If only things had been different. If only I had been able to turn away from that very first offering from that very first evil man.

It’s been thousands of years now, and I’m finally going to be free from my need. My sick disgusting need. A deceptive substitute for the true love that I could never have for myself. If only I could have found someone to love me ages ago, but as I am, sadly, I’m simply unlovable.

I tried to bewitch men to fall in love with me – over and over – but it never lasted. Even if it did, I’d have to keep finding a new man every thirty or forty years and then ensure that they stay madly in love with me and only me. And my meager abilities just wouldn’t cut it. Trust me, that was the first thing I thought of. I can enchant a man for a short while, but it never lasts.

I was never strong enough.

I was never good enough.

So, I spent my existence roaming aimlessly looking for love.

Any love – someone else’s love – but love nonetheless.

And when I did find it, I stole it.

The entranced men gladly gave me their seed, but only without knowing the price. I stole their love and like a beautiful flower, once plucked, it had already begun to die in my hands.

Everything that I touch I destroy.

Every so often I stay in mental contact with a victim. I’ve read that it’s called “remote viewing.” Trust me, I have had a lot of time to read. I don’t know why I sometimes remote view a victim. Maybe I’m punishing myself for the terrible things that I do.

Maybe I’m just sick.

But I reach out to them.

They never know it. Sometimes one of them may get an odd feeling that they’re being watched or something, but who would imagine that a “cum vampire” was inside their brain, using their eyes like a movie camera, watching and feeling everything they do and think?

Preposterous.