Sins

I don't even think about it any more, it's been so long, I'm so used to it. Vampires "feed" on humans. They don't kill them or slaughter them, they feed on them. Maybe humans would see it differently, but I've seen it like that for so long... I've been feeding for so long...

That first night was the worst. That was the night I knew that when I died, I would go to hell. It was only later that I began to wonder if I would die instead of when.

I hardly remember being out on the street. Anyone who saw me must have thought I was either drunk or had gone crazy. I just remember that when I regained my senses I was sucking the blood out of a man's wrist. I had obviously torn it open with my teeth after knocking the man unconscious, because he lay limply on the ground while I... fed. The tear was very sloppy and blood poured out around my mouth and fell back down onto the man's unstirring body.

It was intoxication. It was like wine. The taste was exquisite... it was not at all like it had tasted before my change. Now it tasted sweet, like a nectar, some kind of exotic fruit's juice. It came in waves, as the man's heart strained to keep blood pumping, it was almost overwhelming. Soon the force began to lessen and the waves came more slowly and then sporadically and finally I released his hand. It fell against his blood soaked chest with a wet thud. He made no sound. No moan, no listless shifting of the body -- he was too far gone. His body was absolutely limp, and I was horrified. I wanted to throw up, but I couldn't.

I ran home. Ran faster than I ever had in my life, and I was no longer truly alive. I was afraid that someone might see me, might see the blood on my face, but that would have been quite impossible. In the excited state I was in, running as fast as I was, no man or woman alive would have seen anything more than a blur. Cloaked by night, discovery was not a viable possibility, but at the time I had only an inkling of all this.

My life was forever divided by that event. There was before, and after. Before was maybe sixty years. After has been... thousands. I fled Greece after that. It was an overreaction, but I wanted to get as far away from my life in Greece as I could. I felt the need for redemption so I returned to Palestine and sought out His brother James, and His cousin Simeon at the Church of Jerusalem.

It was at that point I learned of my awful affliction -- in my new state, I could no longer tread on holy ground. I went to James and Simeon by night, but I could never gaze on Jesus' tomb as I so desired. I stayed in Nazareth from then on. After James was martyred, Simeon took over the reigns of the church. I visited him on a regular basis until his death at the age of a hundred and twenty. He felt a little of what I feel, living longer than normal men. On his death bed he entrusted the sarcophagus of Jesus to me and, though I could not touch it myself, I made sure it was safe always.

Decades passed and then centuries and I felt the need to move.