(11) Trevor Wallace - Dhampir

Rage consumes me.

I stalk the streets. How could she? Why? Why didn’t Nora wait? Talk to me?

I want to kill. Someone. Anyone. All these humans, going about their daily lives. Uncaring, unfeeling. And she lies dead. Our child. Dead.

I brush by a man. He turns, irate. I grab him, hand to his throat. Slam him against the wall. His terror answers my rage. I want him to suffer the way I am. Hands pull me away. My growl is feral as I face them. The ones trying to save him. They back away. I snarl low, turn, look at him. Grab him again, fist raised to beat him senseless. Hands drag me back again. I struggle until...

His fear shatters me. I realize it’s not him I hate.

It’s me.

It’s her. For doing this.

It’s me. For abandoning her. My fault. If only…

If only I’d been there. If only I’d cared enough.

What kind of beast am I?

I walk the streets. Despair consumes me. Guilt.

Day after day. Seeing her everywhere. Seeing mothers with their babies—everywhere.

Night after night. Dreams. Of her. Nightmares. Of her. Her pain so deep. Abandoned. Alone. No one who cares. Touching her stomach, knowing life grows there and no one cares. I see her, sweet, kind, scared, alone.

My fault.

Their fault. Those who I am destined to slay. Creatures. Vampyres. If they didn’t exist she would be alive. If they didn’t exist my mother would be alive. If they didn’t exist I would be human.

I wouldn’t have left her to search for them. Abandoned her. Alone.

My fault. Their fault. Our fault she’s dead.

Rage consumes me.

They must die.

Then, perhaps, this guilt I carry will lessen. Never leave me but, maybe, be bearable.

Maybe.