A Monster Was Born ✔️

I thought about the fangs that sunk into his throat, greedily snatching life, while the body thrashes and weakens beneath it. After it finishes, it rises again, gracefully, disappearing into the shadows of the night, leaving no trace of the demon with blood on its hands. And yet, you have to wonder about the monster itself: does it feel any semblance of guilt for what it did? After all, it had once been human, too, not too long ago. Or has it become so conditioned from seeing tragedies over and over, so numb to the cries of pain and loss, that any human part has already been dissolved and forgotten, leaving only the cunningness and ruthlessness beneath?

I’ve since been enthralled with these questions, about the fickleness of human nature, about the kindnesses and cruelties hidden beneath our reality. To learn more, I’ve begun reading for hours on end about the supernatural: about vampires, faeries, demons; devouring the stories one by one, filling myself with emotions and wonders that the reality I’ve lived in has never given me. Playing pretend can be a dangerous thing, and it’s a danger I’ve ridden on my entire life. Yet, I keep falling victim to it. The thrills, the curiosity, the promises of excitement and love; I’ll embrace it with all my heart, as a dream I hope to never wake up from...

Sometimes in bed, I’ll imagine fangs brushing against the veins of my neck, lethal, waiting to bite down and suck me dry, savouring the sweet taste of blood and misery. At times like this, I welcome it. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? To live a life of dangers and passions, to learn and understand the things that should terrify me; even if I have to live a little less, I’ll be able to live a little more.

As he finished, I gave a little shiver. Although this was my desire, my body is now weakened, life and warmth drained out of its bone, the two gaping holes in my neck throbbing with pain. I watched as the beast retracted its fangs and moved on to my sister.

“Who are you?”

“I’m more human than you’ll ever want me to be.”

“Why are you here?”

“...Sorry?”

“What made you feel that this world is worth living in? There’s nothing here.”

“This world is cruel, mortal.”

Even though I can’t see him, I can feel him smiling.

“People kill others for their own personal greed, lie and manipulate to seek benefits, laugh at those who are already pleading and dying, and worst of all, nobody will be there to watch you cry.”

He turned to cock his head at me, and I remember feeling mesmerized as I saw those eyes glow red, the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth as its upper corner curled into something disturbing and sinister.

“Decide for yourself, mortal. In this world that is already bleeding from the inside, what do you think we represent: a kindness to be endured or a cruelty that is meant to be eradicated? Do such things even exist anymore?”

End of season 1.