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A STORY IN THREE PARTS. Louise Graves / Character made for Where The Wild Things are by Ray (iheartmiles)
Word Count: 1022 Words)
PART 1.
You awaken, and immediately, you know you shouldn't have.
There is a house on fire in front of you. (It's your house. The house you grew up in; spinning your brother around, both of your laughter echoing the halls. The house where you bit your father for touching your brother too roughly. The house where your mother would pull you into the kitchen as the men lounged around the living room. The house where your family is trapped inside, forever haunting its floorboards. You should be there as well. But you aren't.)
Your head pounds, pounds and pounds. Your mouth dry like sandpaper as your teeth ache. You were left on the dry grass and you shouldn't be here. You should still be trapped under wood as flames flicker close to you until you are nothing but the ashes in the wind. But you are here. Why are you here? (A monster saved you that night. A monster disguised as an angel doing an act of what they believed was mercy. A monster saved you, and in return, made you into a monster. And the question of why is left unanswered. Maker, why did you save me? Why did you answer by cries as if you were a holy being? Maker, why did you LEAVE ME?)
You try to move, but your body burns and aches. Your eyes dry. And you flinch as a shout echoes through the night. And suddenly, a boy appears. Blond hair and blue eyes that are wide with concern. He is the neighbor's boy and you watched him grow up from across the hill. You know this boy. His mouth moves, but you don't hear a thing. Expect for beat, beat, beat. His heart beats wildly. And is that the gush of his blood in your ears?
You're confused; disoriented, but another feeling lights inside of you. Hunger. You are hungry. You are weak and hungry and you feel your fingers been to twitch. You know this boy and yet you still lunge. Animalistic teeth sink into his neck and the last thing he sees is the face of a monster. And when you pull back moments later, your hands are shaking. What have you done? Your eyes wildly looking at your bloody hands and the neck that you tore up. Your white night gown is covered in blood and it drips onto the grass like water.
You murder a boy that you know well and it's only the beginning.
PART 2.
Years later, years of bloodlust and shaking hands and traveling and hunger; so much hunger, you lock yourself away in a tower. Guilt chokes you, but not enough to save you. Your tower is cold and lifeless and it's what you deserve, isn't it? You don't deserve life when you have took so many. And you spend years here just as you spent years with blood staining your fingers.
Your face starts to sunken in, your eyes become dull, you become weak and you think you deserve this. Hunger eats at you, but you refuse to give in to your monstrous demands. You live on rats and scurrying mice and you think this isn't a life, but it's the life you made for yourself. You isolate yourself until you are barely a person anymore if you even were one in the first place. You sleep during the day and you spend nights staring at blank walls and ceilings. Life has lost meaning ever since the day you didn't die. The people that you once loved are gone now and there is nothing more tragic than outliving people that should have outlived you. (Your baby brother haunts you in this tower; you hear his laughter in the halls, the sound of his feet running upstairs, and sometimes, you see him; sometimes alive, sometimes badly burnt, sometimes just a corpse.)
You burn your skin with the sun and think to yourself that you deserve this, you deserve this, you deserve this. Guilt chokes you, but not enough to end the monster. You fear both being alive and dying; you scoff at the mirror that reflects a coward. And every night you awaken with the thought you shouldn't have.
PART 3.
The gloomy, lifeless life you have lived before is over. Sulking over your hunger isn't going to change anything, but you can learn to control it. Perhaps that is why you go to New York. There are vampires there, you know this from the unfortunate vampires that crossed your path. Darkness follows you like an old friend, and with it, comes guilt. (If one feels guilt, but doesn't end the monster, does that cancel out the guilt? Does it make the guilt be for nothing?)
You haven't interacted with many vampires before and there is a sense of dread. Still you think yourself different from these monsters. Still you think you are holy when you are more monstrous than any monster in this place. You say you come for learning, but really, you come for answers. (You come because every monster wants to murder their maker. Every monster wants the blood of the one who bought them into this world.)
You weren't expecting Camille de Beauvoir.
Too young to be a monster is your first thought when you crossed paths with her. Her naivety and wonder charms you. You look at her and see a ghost of a boy that has never left you. You try to keep your distance, but you always circle back to the past. You did not come to New York to join a coven, but Camille has a way of making you change your mind. A sister, a daughter, a guilty conscience, whatever she is, you don't want to leave without her.
And then you meet the coven leader. It's fate, the poet in your sings. It's fate to meet someone as tender and kind. It's damnation, the dark lake in you points out. It's damnation to meet a monster and compare it to a lamb.
