Crimson || Tom Riddle [1]

𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞

Arabella did not have a soul. She was a creature of darkness and her powers were bestowed upon her by the devil herself. It hadn't taken long for Arabella to come to terms with this truth. She was not human, she was not mortal. She had long accepted the reality of her existence and embraced the darkness that came with it.

Part of how she accepted this was the humanity switch. Turning off your humanity was a mind altering experience with serious effects on one's mind. One moment, you're feeling. The next, nothing but darkness. Arabella had often found solace in it, a refuge from the chaos of the world, a sanctuary where she could retreat and find peace — even if that peace was in the form of a massacre. Switching it off was easy enough, but turning it back on?

It was like trying to navigate through a dense fog with no sense of direction. Arabella had learned the hard way that once you flipped the humanity switch off, it wasn't always easy to find your way back to the light. The darkness clung to her, pulling her deeper into its suffocating embrace with each passing moment. It whispered sweet promises of power and control, tempting her to stay lost in its depths forever.

The only way to escape was a small voice — a voice that resides somewhere deep within her, it cries out, pleading for release from the chains of darkness. But finding this voice? Easier said than done.

The first time, the voice had been her mother's. After killing the villagers, it was the sight of where her mother had been burned that had triggered something within Arabella, a flicker of humanity amidst the darkness. It had been a fleeting moment, but it was enough for her to turn the switch on, get her humanity back.

The second time, it was her brother. Arabella had turned her humanity off 237 times in 1092 years of existence. It had become harder and harder each time, though. Arabella had forgotten the voice of her mother and brother, having been so many years without it. So, the voice that often called to her was herself, telling her it was time to stop, to face reality and her emotions.

But that was not the worst thing about being a vampire, no. The obvious first contender was the inability to die.

Though Arabella was dead, her heart never beaten since the night she killed herself, she was not dead.

The second contender?

Arabella did not have a soul. Which meant that Arabella could not see her reflection.

She had not seen her reflection in 1092 years. She did not remember how she looked, each year the memory of her face fading away until it was nothing but the knowledge of her black hair and silver eyes. She also knew she had a strong jawline, high cheekbones, full lips and a graceful nose, much like her mother, though Arabella did not remember her appearance either.

She often wondered what she looked like now, after all these centuries. She knew she was stuck in her 18-year-old body, but did she look any different? Less innocent and hurt? Did her appearance carry the weight of one thousand years of knowledge and emotions? Had time frozen her appearance, preserving her beauty for eternity? Or had it twisted her features into something monstrous, a reflection of the darkness that consumed her soul?