What happens when the blood which courses through your veins is not enough? A tale about a vampire and her obsession.
The Elephant Man (John Merrick)/OC
Cover by: @midnight_pink
"You know better than that, Saoirse." said a green-eyed, red-haired lady, probably in her mid-thirties, sewing something and sitting on a rocking chair.
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Saoirse was equally a red and had the same eyes and wavy hair. Both her parents looked alike. But not even their similarities could save their relationship, in the end...
Saoirse replied rolling her eyes.
"Because, Ma, while you sew and keep with your concoctions for company trying to bring me back to what I was, you could be doing something more useful. It will never happen. Never."
Agatha, the mother, rested her sewing on her lap and fixed a severe look on her daughter.
"You mean you want to be the monster your father made you eons ago? If it's in my power you'll be out of it!"
"I don't want out of it!" Saoirse cried, her brogue more pronounced. "I'm beautiful! I'm eternal! I'm powerful!"
"And you feed on what, Saoirse?"
"It matters not! I'm visiting him!"
"Saoirse... If you interfere in other people's lives, the consequences..."
"Lives? Consequences? Have you read Carr Gomm's letter to the Times?"
"No I haven't, nor will I. Girl, how can you be so... so... pretentious?"
"I'm not! I'm trying to help someone! Like Da helped me."
"And like I killed your 'Da' for helping you."
"You're a witch, Mother! Your aging process is slower than any mortal's. You're also... another sort of creature! Why can't you accept me for what I am? I should have never forgiven you!"
"And you haven't, Saoirse. You know what, do what you will. I know you'll in the end fuck up with everyone's lives. Besides, I'm still human."
"Fine!"
Saoirse shut the door so hard the fireplace photos nearly fell to the floor. Either that or it was her ire.
At the time, the London Hospital was the largest in England. The only problem was its location: it was centered at the poorest area in the city. The poverty of the area, its overpopulation and filth were nearly indescribable. The 690 hospital beds lured patients from a maze of alleys and slums. Regardless, there were no shortage of clinical material and good health care.
She spoke to a nurse, the head, Mothershead. She was hard, serious and bitter, but Saoirse always used glamour to disguise her crimson eyes and to get whatever she wanted with them.
