The Price of Blood

Chapter Nine - Humanity

(Four years later)

He had jumped from city to city, country to country. His hunger was cruel, his need for blood was extreme and yet he resisted. He could not help himself; healing people became more important to him. He worked tirelessly through the night, saving men, women and children alike. It was different; a different sense of achievement for with this came no shame, no horror or fear. He finally learnt compassion, he needed it. He loved helping people, as if it gave him a purpose, a sense of belonging and freedom.

"Dr Howard, another patient for you" a young man warned. He was used to it, the smell of infection and death... the stench of it all. Each part of life and death had its own aroma, its own sickening stench.

He let the man lay down; his blood covered the bandages, seeping through. Valenus had to act fast; he could hear the blood rushing through. If he did not stop the bleeding, the man would die. Valenus had less than a minute to stitch the wound, even though he was not qualified to do so, he had to. He held him down forcefully; he had to because the man was slipping. He slowly began stitching the wound, the bloody mess tempting him, calling him but he had to stop, had to stop himself.

He finished up the wound, cleaning it before he washed his hands. The man's blood covered them; the poor man had little chance of survival without stitches he would have bled to death slowly. Perhaps that was the point, his point, perhaps he wanted to die but Valenus, under his new name, Victor, just could not allow that to happen.

It was as if something had changed, he had changed. He became a decent enough man, a decent enough smile on his face and coins in his pocket. He looked at people as people, not food. He started to find his feet, care about people without feeling forced to. It was no longer frightening; he did not seem frightening anymore. There was something human in him again, there were some human traits in him again and after years of hatred and torment, he felt his own freedom for once in his life.

He was once a soulless man, a man that lived without fear and pain, without hatred and anger. For once he felt he could settle down, feel human and live as a human. He cared about people, anyone and only fed on the dying, those who had no chance of survival. If anything it meant their death meant something, was something. Their deaths meant he had the strength to fight his hunger and help others fight their pain, fight their illnesses.

He had lost count of how many lives he had taken over his years, ageless and cruel years that twisted from days to weeks and weeks to months, months to years and the years turned into decades until it became a century and finally unmeasurable. The world had changed, the taste of blood had changed and he had changed. He was a monster; he was a bloody horrible monster until he was locked away.

He had years to think about his actions that day. Yes he was cursed but he did not have to just be the curse, be the monster when he could be the man he wanted to be and maybe even be a good man. He could not help it; he liked his humanity, his human side. It was full of life, passion and a burning hot flame that he had barely even touched. He was feeling bits and pieces of his own humanity and he was honestly... enjoying it, he could not understand it, he liked it... the feeling of love, of freedom.

He kept his humanity throughout his life, it was a rather strange feeling... very strange for him, it was like a light had been turned on his life, something behind the eyes that he had hidden. He had never allowed him to feel such emotions before; even in his human life they were not that strong. It was as if he had truly changed, become a changed man who refused to give up on people and more importantly he refused to be the monster after years of being one. One small change and he became human, he felt like a human being. Humanity flew through him, pumping for him where his heart did not, could not after so many years of being in the dark. For once he felt he could fight what he'd known, the monster within him... he could fight it, find the will to kill his thirst for human blood, as if its hold over him somehow lessened and lessened.