𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦

Prologue

It's been exactly six years, three months and twenty-four days since I found out who I was. Who I am. I'm Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior, a gay, depressed seventeen year old. The truth about myself is a pretty harsh one, I suppose — not being able to love someone I'll kill them if I kiss them. I mean, sure, yeah, maybe I could just keep clear of their lips and try to stop myself from making out with them if I felt like it but it's not that easy. It's not easy, especially if you thought you were in love with them.

And the next thing you know, they've dropped dead at your feet.

It's hard. It's fucking hard. You never know when you'll fall for someone next. I guess it's like love... yet a sort of restricted, hopeless love that's dark and bleak and miserable and pointless like a dead-end street.

It's the third time in five months that I've had to move to another country illegally. By myself. I didn't have a family anymore. They had thrown me out in disgust after finding out I was gay, and had killed somebody. I never told them how, though. Nobody except me knows about my little secret. After escaping prison the first time, I decided it was too risky to stay in Brazil. So I crossed the border on foot to Bolivia. Guess what happened? I got arrested again! Yay!

It was Chile next, and I once again kissed someone here, and now I'm sitting outside the grimy prison building, having escaped out about a minute ago. And, well, the next stop's Argentina. It's gotten quite normal, now, moving illegally and not giving two shits. It's almost comforting, knowing that your life couldn't possibly be any worse than this. It's a sort of comfort that doesn't eat at you and make you feel guilty.

And as I step onto the road connecting the two countries together, I can't help but bite my lip at the thought of myself starting a new life for myself.

The vampire on its way to find its new victim.