I was born sometime around 1950 something.
Never been good with numbers or dates. Things were really strict back then, at least they were for me. Both of my parents were heavy into that religion thing you know? No? Don't feel too bad. You ain't alone.
Anyway, I think I was around ten when I realized I was different from the other kids - well, actually, my parents thought I was.
In fact it was because I was so special that I spent most of my days and nights at home you know. Uhm, being cooped up like that was really boring. It was like that for a couple of years or so.
Fuck. I don't remember everything from back then. I blacked out a lot and shit like that.
I remember that my mom and dad were always shouting at me for one reason or another - half of the time I didn't even do anything. Sometimes they would beat me or not let me eat or stuff like that. Said it was for my own good - that it would help me grow up into a God fearing Christian. Imagine that? I wasn't the brightest kid back then - but I never remembered shit like that in the bible.
How do I do some of the shit I do? Hell, I've always been good with my hands. You might say it was a gift - if you believed that junk. When I hit my teens - something in my brain just clicked - like a camera or something else that goes click. I was able to basically understand just about anything.
I tried to do right. I really did - but no matter what I seemed to do my mom and dad would yell at me. I think it was around then that I started acting up. I did all sorts of crazy shit. One time I made a formula at school - Chemistry? Yeah, that sounds right. Anyway, I made a formula that was able to transform certain liquids into an inky sort of substance.
I tested it in the priest's wine. When my parents found out it was me - uhm, anyway - I - I don't remember much of what happened after. I kept pulling stunts like that though. I'm not sure if it was because I thought they would get tired of beating me - or if they would just kill me and be done with it.
I know - I know - that was kind of fucked up - but what else could I do?
I think I was four-no fifteen - yeah. I had done something like rewiring the radio or TV so that it only came in German. I was hiding from them -cause I knew they would hit me - probably more than usual. That was when I met - well, her.
She was around my age I think. Come to think of it - I never did ask.
When she touched me on the shoulder I recoiled. I thought mom or dad found me and that I was going to be hurt - when I saw - her, I - well, I froze.
I was so scared that I couldn't even talk. But her eyes - I could see compassion in her eyes - or pity. It as really messed up. I mean - I had spent most of my life not knowing what either of those things - but I recognized them - in her eyes.
You want me to go on?
Do I have to?
Okay - she saw that my arms were well bruised and all from the beatings and 'Godly discipline' sessions as my dad liked to say. My wrists were, well - they were still messed up from when I tried to kill myself at school. Would have worked if I had remembered to lock the damn door.
Fuck - sorry.
I ramble on from time to time.
Where was I?
Oh yeah - her. She gestured for me to give her my hand. I think I was more scared then than of getting beaten. But I found that my hand seemed to be moving towards her - like magic or something. I think that was the first time in my life that I remembered a hand touching me that didn't cause me pain.
Then they found me and saw her. They really freaked. They were ranting and raving about how I was going to hell. I remember timidly crawling away. Dad was going to hit me with his cane - she stood up and begged him to stop. He hit her hard. Across the neck I think. I watched as she like fell in slow motion and thud.
I looked at them - terrified.
He killed her.
He started shouting and ranting. I remember getting hit again - then I blacked out.
Do I have to do this?
I think I woke up an hour or so later. I could barely move - I was so sore. I looked over at saw her - oh man - her clothes were ripped and my dad's cane was near by.
Some policeman arrived then. I heard my mom and dad telling him stuff. Saying how I - I - did - things to her. They were both so honest and God fearing that he never asked me what happened.
I was put on trial.
Me.
I did some crazy shit - but I never did anything like that.
I tried to tell them the truth - but no one believed me. they said I was crazy or something like that. They put me in - that - place. It was cold - so cold. The light kept flickering. The shadows - they, oh fuck - I swear I still have nightmares about that shity place.
I think I was in there for a year.
Some councilor or social worker thing talked the judge into letting me out.
I remember how the sunlight burned my eyes.
Kind of like it would now I guess.
Then they told me I was going back home.
Home.
What home I asked. I begged them not to send me back - but they did. I was in the place for maybe a minute. The door slammed shut. I was hit upside the head with a cane or a stick.
They said that I was to honor my mother and father and not spread lies. They said that I did it. After hearing it so many times - hell, I started believing it. I tried to run away - the police brought me back every time - every fucking time! And each time - the door would close - and I would get beaten worse each time.
I tried killing myself. I tried making poisons - none worked. I tried the wrist thing again - well, again and again would be more accurate. But nothing worked. It was as though I had sinned and that this life was my punishment.
Hmm?
My embrace? I was getting to that. Fuck you are impatient today.
Like I said, I don't remember everything.
I remember getting beaten - and then I heard - a whisper?
Does that make any sense?
I thought it was God man. After all the pain and suffering I put up with - he finally heard me.
I slept.
Not a blackout or anything - for the first time in years - no nightmares. Then things started getting fucked up - even by my standards. I woke up and I found myself on the floor.
I wasn't even in my own room. That was when I noticed the blood. It was on my clothes - on my hands - fuck - it was everywhere. I heard a familiar hissing noise in the background. I looked over to the kitchen and saw that the gas stove had been tampered with.
Like I said, I was no expert or nothing, but I knew that the thing was going to blow. I staggered away as fast as I could. Then BOOM! I mean a loud echoing kind. I was like lifted up and thrown into a wall. I somehow got up just in time to hear another BOOM!. This one carried me through a window.
My arms got cut up.
I was hearing all sorts of voices.
I saw blurry images of people that had swarmed around to see what had happened.
The only thing that I saw clearly was the fire - fire. It was everywhere - it consumed everything. Then I heard the screams - mom - dad! They were still inside! I tried to get up - I wanted to get them out - but I couldn't move - except for my arm that was twitching. To this day my arm has never been the same.
Shit, sorry - going off the beaten track again.
My embrace right? It wasn't long after that night actually. I-I couldn't understand all too good. I think the explosions rattled something in my head or something. Ever since that day - fire has always freaked me out - I mean, hey - I may be a vampire now(us being very flammable and all.), but even before it was bad.
Stupid me. going off topic again. Sorry. I promise I'll try to stay focused.
I met him - him being my sire and all - when I was in the hospital. He said he was a doctor. He talked to me like I was real. He believed me when I told him stuff. I saw in his eyes something new - understanding. I told others about my new friend, but they didn't believe he was real. They thought he was my 'imaginary friend.'
I marveled at how he was able to walk among the nurses, doctors and patients without being seen. He told me jokes - he - he even played tricks on the people that said he wasn't real. He said that he would do anything to make me happy. He said that I had suffered enough for ten people and that I deserved to be happy.
I remember asking him to kill me.
I swear - I thought he was going to start crying or something.
He kept telling me how special I was - and how the world still needed me. So I said - make me like you. He froze up. I mean - he thought whoa - how did the lunatic know what I am and shit like that.
I didn't though. I looked at him and saw him happy. Without a care - without a worry - free. When he heard me word it that way - he calmed down and was cool. That was when he told me what he was and what it meant. He asked me three times if I truly wanted to be like him.
He said that once it was done there was no turning back. I said - let me see one more day. If I see anything worth staying for - I will. He made me forget the stuff he told me - that Masquerade shit and all.
I saw that next day.
I didn't see hope - and I sure as hell didn't see anything worth staying for.
All I saw was a world that hated and despised me. Despised me for shit that I hadn't even done.
That night I saw him again. He asked me the question again. I said yes.
Over the course of the next ten years or so I was his protegee. I amazed him and others with what I was able to do. He taught me everything I needed to know and what others were supposed to never know.
I guess you know the rest and all eh?
Whoever said happy endings and shit like that should be dragged out in the street and shot. But that's just me.
So I ask you - who among us is crazy - and which of us is truly sane? I know the answer - do you?