The Embittered Vampiress

Every vampire goes through that period of time where everything in their bleak existance seems pointless and just the nature by which one must survive, sickens them to the core, rendering them incapable of sometimes carrying on. Every vampire knows this time. I thought it was ridiculous that Richard went in exile to the Artic, unable to understand his point in going. He went to find himself. Each one of us had to do it and my time was coming. What made my experience different, was the fact that they all betrayed me. Lil' Tabbs actually tried to have me killed & that does not go unpunished with our kind. Only first-generation vampires have the power to kill other vampires. Its a crime if you do so & you're not of first-generation blood. Tabbs was third-generation, at the very most. I knew it wouldn't be long before the others found her out & punished her for it. I didn't have to do anything about it. Besides, it'd be nice to have them all think I was dead. I'd be free at least. Davidson was the only one who knew. I could never lie to him. That was something I never did, lie to Davidson. Too bad later on he wouldn't do me the same honor.

Life had grown stale to me. Every town seemed the same, no matter where I went, mortals & their meaningless lives. I had become disgusted by the fact that I needed them to exist. I hated it. I was beginnning to think I was at their mercy. I had suffered long enough to turn the cycle in reverse. Instead of my natural thoughts, I was perceiving them as the ones with all the power. It depressed me, the whole thing. I felt trapped in a vicious circle with no escape. The mortals had me, I thought. I think I could be the only vampire to suffer from anxiety attacks. I withdrew from the others, and became extremely reclusive. Almost afraid to go out, I became a victim of the things I loved most. Society became my enemy, so I hid from it. I didn't realize I had became so pathetic now that I look back, but for many years, I punished & tortured myself for some reason or another. Maybe a therapist would determine where it came from, who the hell knows. It didn't matter. This disease worse than my dark gift, took over my life for years until one day, I got over it. But for now, these are the bitter years.

Davidson had made me angry over this woman he claimed to love. I totally dejected the whole idea of it & he defended her. I became jealous & angry, said hurtful things, while he said nothing. I walked away from him, without saying good-bye or accepting the excuses he fed me. It took many months of going back & forth about our relationship before we finally worked it out. But for many months I couldn't understand him. He was so full of information, thoughts & feelings. None of which I knew anything about anymore & that bothered me. It aided in making me feel left out & alone. I was never one to accept new situations. I was always more comfortable with the usual surroundings. I wasn't into embracing new people in our lives unless convinced by the others. I didn't trust new people in our group. I knew we had too much to lose by employing a loose cannon. But no one except me must've wondered that, because new ones were always brought around the group by others. And I was never accepting of it, & it became worse as I became more depressed. I just did not TRUST & it wasn't paranoia....it was protection. I was protecting myself as well as the others. But they were too careless to notice & too ignorant to feel gratuity. So I succeeded in isolating myself, completely. Not particularly a wise thing to do when you are already on the edge of sanity. It seemed everyone had betrayed me at one time or another. Not a one of them had failed at hurting or betraying me, somehow. All of them had let me down in a time of need. They were never there when I needed them & because of it I had grown stonger, but bitter. I would lay at night, envisioning them enjoying the night out together. I saw everything they did while I locked myself away. I had lost the desire for my life. Who wouldn't if a member of your own coven tried to eliminate you? I was once so proud of my uniqueness, and often recognized for it with compliments. But those closest to me had a constant ritual of hurting me, tearing down & eating away at my ego until I was absolutely nothing. I became a shell of what I once was. By appearances I seemed the same, carried on to others the same. But inside raged a war between depression, anxiety & sometimes paranoia. It was unusual that someone like me got into that shape to begin with. I was strong-willed, confident, and down-right vain at times, so for my self-esteem to be lost, I felt emotionally raped. I no longer recognized my life & longed for it back the way it was, with no idea in hell, how to get it.

No one knew of the rage I felt inside me. I never thought anyone would understand, nor did I think that anyone had experienced the same feelings as I. My distaste grew over the years, securing the foothold that the mortal-like emotions had on me. I hated people, for they seemed so ghastly ignorant. And I mean ignorant about everything! They didn't know anything about traveling, finances, or even the simplest of tasks, they still knew practically nothing. They knew nothing of how to treat one another, so the abuse on society continues. People hating people, people killing people, the cycle never changed. I didn't recognize the blessing in their ignorance....their ignorance is what kept my ass alive. But it was blind to me at the moment. Right then, I still loathed them. I hated that I needed them to survive. I hated to be dependant on anything, especially mortals. I seriously doubted that I would ever meet one to change my perspective on them. I had given up on the hopes of finding anyone worthy of companionship. It was worse in the states than in Europe. I eventually took flight & left the comfort of my American abode in search for the peace that liberal Europe would bring me.

Davidson had a nice loft in Paris, overlooking the river. Perhaps I could reside there for awhile, he'd let me for sure. I needed to get away & re-group. When I got to the loft, he was already there. He handed me a key & told me to stay as long as needed. He knew me so well. His eyes told me he understood, and his smile gave me hope that this was a good thing. Before he left he quipped he'd be checking on me from time to time, only to make sure I was doing alright. He knew I needed nothing more than that. And with those words, he held me, then departed. I gazed around, taking in my temporary exile. It would do, for now. I poured myself a hefty glass of blood-wyne, and kicked back on the sofa. It was the first time in many months that I felt relaxed somewhat. It was a start at least, I thought. Wandering around the loft, I picked out my bedroom & unpacked. Davidson had excellent taste in decor & this room was awesome. Gothic & Victorian decor mixed about the entire room. A medievil style with a soft touch so to speak. I loved it, as I lit up the room with all the candles. Witchcraft books lay on shelves, coaxing me to read their dusty pages. An old jewelry box was on the dresser & I, curious as I am, opened it. Inside were my old deck of tarot cards! I couldn't believe Davidson had saved them. It made me smile & think not a coincedence that they were in this room. It was obvious, no doubt, he knew I would pick this room, & that's why they were there. I sprawled on the bed & shuffled my old deck. They felt familar in my hands, like the hug of an old friend. I almost had a sense of being home. I knew that night I would be ok if the bitter & negative feelings just filed themselves away. It all just needed to be in its proper place. My whole aura was out of whack. It was going to take alot of energy to put it back correctly. I just hoped I still had the strength.

After several weeks in Paris I had built the confidence in myself up enough to start wandering around. As I mingled through the dark, damp cobblestone streets, I had a warm feeling wash over me. I actually felt good being out in the crowd, for the first time in years. And I was being noticed, which was something I didn't even know I missed. I spent years trying to achieve anonymity, only to realize I missed being noticed. *L* I laughed at myself, realizing I was having a break-through so to speak. I was acting like my old self, a little. Laughing & talking to myself was quite a normal thing for me really. Continuing down the dampened streets, I was halfway to the loft when I realized I hadn't even thought of feeding. I just walked all over Paris without a thought to my nourishment. But it seemed I needed a nourishment of the soul more than the other. Now I indulged in the other before retiring.

I happened upon a little lost mutt later that evening. I decided I needed a friend while in Paris, why not? So I took the little guy home. I named him Ramses, for he would be treated like a little king. He liked his temporary home. I figured we'd be friends for a long time. Ramses slept in my bed when dawn came. It was sweet. I felt relief when I passed into my slumber...for once. Maybe I could get better, maybe I wasn't too jaded that I can't turn it around for me. Time will tell.

I was awakened my church bells tolling, seven times. I had slept late, I thought, then giggled like a child for doing so. I didn't have any schedule or routine to follow, so it was strange to abandon my usual habits for these. But I thought I needed a change for awhile. I had given alot of thought to seeing a psychiatrist, one that I could undoubtedly trust. I'd have to do some homework before I could find one suitable enough.

Everything changed dramatically when Davidson became ill. I thought he was dying. But he came home & stayed in Paris with me. I took care of him, and I think he took care of me, mentally. He could always do that. Helping him, helped me. That was something he always managed to teach me. We would have long talks until the sun arose. It was so theraputic for the both of us. He need advice as much as I did. We had just grown tired of the many existences we've had. Its hard to remember who you really are after awhile. Every one of us had gone through it at one point or another. We spent many nights talking to one another, solving problems, and telling jokes. We managed to stay close throughout the years. I was grateful for that. But what I needed more than anything, was to come to terms with the betrayal of my coven, get on with my life. I wanted so much to start it all over, alone. Those words sounded eerily comforting to me.

Although I had managed to heal a part of my emotional side.... the betrayal I had yet to discover from my maker would be the near fatal blow. My poor dilluted psyche did not have the will power to stand another betrayal, but my character did however have the strength to pull me through it. My depression & lost way became my prison for years. I remained secluded in Paris for a number of years without anyone ever knowing. Night after night of suffering. My whole entire vampire roots, family, all of it gone. Anything that ever meant anything to me was gone. Well it was to be at that time, for little did I know that they ultimately would mean nothing to me anyway, they weren't important, expendable is a better word I would learn to use to describe anyone whom had a connection to me in the past. This hell they had sentenced me to would soon brew the worst hatred & rage born into darkness.

Locked away from the outside world I would lose alot of the things I had learned. I wouldn't be able to blend into society any longer, my manners, accent, everything would suffer at the hands of this prison I was condemned to by my beloved coven. I loathed them all, hungrily. Never did I believe in my wildest of dreams that someone like me would be where I am. I thought no power in the universe could bring me to my knees, but something had. I felt defeated, and that felt worse than the loss of any of them. The world in which I lived was suddenly unbalanced. It would be me that would have to balance it once again, and so far I hadn't the slightest fucking idea what to do.