Memoirs of a Vampire

Two

Even if you're not particularly claustrophobic, it is one of the most cruel ways of dying imaginable: buried alive, unable to free yourself or to get help and doomed to painfully suffocate in a coffin. I guess it is impossible to put the panic, I experienced during those first moments after gaining consciousness, into words.

When you open your eyes and it still remains pitch black, you lift up your arms and after a few inches you bump into the cover of the coffin and start to realize, where you are. The first twenty seconds I've beat my surroundings manically, screamed and punched the cover of the coffin above me; than the thought, that the oxygen was very limited crossed my mind. Instantly I stopped everything I was doing: Paused in the middle of the movement. Paused my breathing.

It took a while, until I became aware, that nothing within me sought for air. My head didn't get heavy, my lungs didn't contract. Absolutely nothing about my condition changed.

Cautiously I tried to breathe. The relieving feeling didn't occur. I felt, how the air streamed into my lungs and than out of them, but that was it. The process didn't affect my well-being. My body was totally indifferent about it.

Timidly I lifted my hands again and pushed against the cover. First nothing happened, but this time I didn't give up and instead stemmed myself against it, with all my strength, as hopeless as the venture seemed.

I felt, how the cap deferred a few millimeters.

This was followed by an effort beyond compare, which must have been anything but pretty. Like a wild animal I laboriously dug myself to the surface, driven by instincts, which seemed innate and simultaneously utterly new. As I reached the ground, I didn't stop, to brush away the dirt on my face. I had a different priority, and that was aliment. The climb up costed an insane amount of energy and now I needed to restore my energy reserves as quickly as possible.

My eyes sprung around to get an orientation and recognized, that I was surrounded by a sea of gravestones and therefore located in a cemetery. I only registered my surroundings marginally, my focus was somewhere else.

I found, what I needed so desperately, without having to search much. Felix was stood only a few meters from me and threw a plastic-bag in my direction, which I surprisingly unerringly picked from the air, to sink my teeth into it in a fluent movement.

That wasn't a conscious decision, but rather an almost independent impulse, which I didn't even question. It was as indispensable, as breathing.

Only after I greedily sucked the whole bag out to the last drop, I took a look at it and saw, that I was holding an empty blood-bag in my hand.

My first reaction wasn't disgust, how you might expect, because it is suggested by films and the TV, but rather astonishment. The situation absolutely did not make sense to me, although being read it probably is quite obvious.

- Deadly accident in the presence of ominous, rich guy ends in resurrection as a vampire in a grave. And the vampire-existence comes with an insatiable, never ending desire for blood. -

If that happens to oneself you don't draw these obvious conclusions, or at least I didn't drew them immediately. I remember how my eyes shifted from the blood-bag in my hand downward my body and I detected, that I was still in the same outfit, I was wearing to the party, although it now was pretty battered and covered in mud and filth. My tights were literally tattered, the shoes, that by some miracle I was still wearing, lacked some studs and the upper fabric was partially teared of. Therewith my mind was brought back to my last awake moments and I remembered the fall. I abruptly turned my head to Felix, who had kept a close eye on me and my fury suddenly came back. Only now it certainly no longer involved Jacky and instead primarily myself. I blamed him for the situation. 'What have you done?' I rushed towards him and now stood in front of him. 'What did you do to me? You freak!', I jelled at him.