A couple of hours after I got home there was a knock on the door. I answered. A couple of detectives introduced themselves and asked if they could come in. Detective Jones told me that they were asking everyone in the neighborhood of they had seen or heard anything suspicious during the night. He asked if we had seen any strangers in the neighborhood. I told him that I had not and asked him why. He told me that Mr. Fisher, down the street had been found dead by his wife early this morning. He asked if I lived alone and I told him that I had a partner living with me. They asked if they could speak to him or her. I told them my partner was a she and I would go up and see if she was awake.
I made my way to her room and she was not in bed. I heard a whimper coming from the closet. I opened the door and found her sitting in the dark, sobbing. I asked her what was wrong and all she would do was sit there shake her head. I left her and went downstairs and told the detective that she was not feeling well and, if he left his card I would have her call him as soon as she felt better. He thanked me and the two of them left.
I ran back upstairs and found Marty still in the closet. I sat down next to her, put my arm around her and asked her what was wrong. She looked up at me and said, “I don’t know what I did last night. I can’t remember anything except sitting here in the bedroom and then feeling very afraid.”
I am trying to understand what happened,” she continued. “I feel like I fed, but I don’t remember doing it. I have no idea if I left the room. If I did, where did I go?”
I knew she left to feed two nights ago and she would not need to drink again until tonight. Did she change when I gave her my blood that night that I saved her life? It sounded to me like the urge had taken over and she lost total control.
I explained to her what had happened to me when I could not control the urge. She looked at me and said, “I am so afraid. I have always been in control of my actions. I don’t know how I am going to handle this.”
When she had finally calmed down, I explained that she would now have to feed more often to keep the urge at bay. When I gave her my blood, it was possible that it changed her.
“Is it possible that you visited the house down the street during the night,” I asked. She told me again that she did not remember a thing. I explained to her about Mr. Fisher, and how the police were asking all the neighbors questions. I told her that she would have to call the police and tell them that she had not heard or seen anything either. In the meantime, I would have to try and find out what he died of and keep an eye on Marty. I understood what she was going through, because it had happened to me.
My concern was that I did not know how deep the urge was going to affect her and whether she would be able to control it. Was I going to be able to control her? In an attempt to save her, I may have created a monster.
A little while later she called the police and told them she had not heard or seen anything unusual that night. She asked what had happened to Mr. Fisher. They told her it was and ongoing investigation and they could not release any information.
That was what I wanted to know, too. I told Marty that this would probably just go away. I liked her and enjoyed her company but I could not let her complicate things for me. If she was the cause of this death so close to my home I would have to do something about it.
For years, I had imagined what I would do if a situation like this ever occurred. I never planned anything because I felt that I was the only creature like me that existed. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I had planted a seed that was now awakening, and, with it the possibility of a huge problem.
A couple of days went by without any major incidents. I made sure that Marty went out every night to feed. Her spirits were up and she was acting normal. I got a call from a neighbor that the family of Mr. Fisher was hosting a wake in his honor and we were invited. I told Marty about it and she told me that she could not go. Not knowing if she was the cause of his death was something she was still having a hard time dealing with. I though it strange, but then I remembered her telling me that she had never taken a life. She never took too much blood from a victim. I remembered how I felt the first time I killed someone. I told her I understood and I would go by myself. I needed to find out how he died.
The wake was very well attended. There were people from the neighborhood and relatives. The house was crowded so I quickly made my way to the back yard. The Fishers had the same view that I had. They also had a pool and plenty of sitting areas. This worked out perfect for me. I did not have to be around the food and drink and endure the smells. I found a couple I knew that had come to my party and started a conversation. I told them that the police had come by asking questions and asked if they knew any details about what had happened. All they could tell me was what the police had told everyone – this was a suspicious death.
I meandered from group to group, listening for any kind of clue. The widow was sitting in a shady part of the patio talking to people that stopped by to offer their condolences. I made my way to where she was and asked if I could sit. She reached out and held my hand and said, “The police think I killed my husband.” I asked her why they thought she was responsible.
“I was the only one here with him and they found blood on his pillow and some puncture wounds on his neck,” she said, tearfully. “I told them that I would never hurt him and I did not know what the wounds were.”
Mrs. Fisher went on to say that they searched her house thoroughly and did all kinds of tests on her and her clothing. I told her that she should get an attorney and reassured her that everything would be all right. I was sure that Marty had been here and she had caused Mr. Fisher’s death. I had to keep an eye on her but, if she was out of control, what could I do about it?
Every night when Marty came home she was very quiet and would not say much. I would ask her how she was doing and she would shrug and answer with only a word or two. She would disappear to her room and I would not see her again until the next night. She would barely talk to me and our relationship was fading away.
One night, I decided to follow her. I hoped that she would not see me so I kept to the shadows as much as I could. A couple of times she stopped and looked around. I could tell from the direction she was going that the strip was her destination. I kept as far away as I could but close enough to see her.
She walked along a street that paralleled the main strip, stopping a couple of times and then she stood at a corner as if waiting for someone. All of a sudden, she broke into a full run down the street and up a walkway. She smashed through the door of a small house. I kept after her and, as I approached I heard a muffled scream.
I found her attacking a woman in her bed. The woman was bleeding from her face and different parts of her torso. She looked as if she has been attacked by a pack of wild animals.
Marty must have sensed me because she stopped feeding on the woman and looked up at me. Her eyes were glowing red. Blood was dripping from her mouth and she looked like an evil, brutal animal.
She slowly stood up, still staring at me. There was a low growl coming from her as she moved toward me. Suddenly, she was on me, trying to bite me. I grabbed her and slammed her against the wall. I looked at her for a moment and did not recognize the woman that had been living with me. This was a different creature than the one I knew.
She kicked and punched at me and then broke away, running out the door. I followed her as fast as I could. She sped through the street traffic as if time was standing still. I kept up with her until we reached the heavy brush in the hills close to my home and then lost her.
I moved around the area, trying to sense or smell her. Sounds in the underbrush turned out to be only a small animal living there. I made my way to the campsites of the vagrants and found it was deserted. Had she been visiting here also? Frustrated and mad, I headed home hoping that she would be there. When I got there, the house was empty.
What was I going to do if Marty came home? Would she remember what she had done? I suspected that she knew sh
e had done something wrong, but did not remember anything. The problem was that she was not talking to me. She was living a life that neither of us wanted. We were both glad that we were in control of our actions. But something had gone wrong with her. I did not know what it was and I did not have time to figure it out. My main concern was to stop her.
Or should I try to stop her? Maybe sooner or later she would be discovered and the problem would be taken care of. How many people would have to die before she was stopped? No, I could not do that to her. There had to be a solution. Hopefully I would come up with one by the time she came home…if she came home.
I was in my trance, thinking about everything that was happening. I could not get the vision of Marty attacking that woman and her actions out of my mind. She was behaving like a vampire in the movies or books would act.
Was everything she told me a lie? How long had this been going on? I was beginning to think that she was this way long before I saved her with my blood. The story about being attacked by a gang may not have been the truth. How much really happened? No matter how much I cared for her, I had to eliminate her if I could. Experience had taught me that if I lost too much blood I could die.
Would she die if I bled her? If I drank her blood, would I become like her? I came out of my trance and then sensed that there was someone in the house. Turning, I saw her standing there looking at me. I started to say something but she ran upstairs. I heard the door to her room close.
I went upstairs and forced the door open. She was sitting, looking out the window, with her back to me. There was a strong smell of blood in the room and it awakened the urge in me. As she turned around, I saw she was covered in blood. The animal look she had was gone. She stared at me like a little girl that knew she had done something wrong and who was waiting to be punished.
I walked up to her, took her face in my hands, and looked into her eyes. Tears started to run down her, mixing with the blood she was covered in. We stood there in silence. She slowly tipped her head and moved the hair away from her neck. I put my face on her, opened my mouth and bit into her neck. I could feel her heart beat and I sensed peace, love and an inner quiet I had never experienced before. I drank until her heart stopped. I softly set her on the bed and sat next to her, stroking her face and thinking about the companionship we provided for each other. I was going to miss the good parts of our relationship. I covered her with the blankets on the bed, knowing I had to get rid of her body that night. Could I afford her any dignity or respect?
That night, I carried her out to my car and started driving. I drove until I reached the general area she told me she had first become infected. I carried her into the desert and found a place among the saguaro cactus and buried her. I stood there looking at her grave and I thanked her for bringing me a little joy in this life of hell I was living.
Chapter 16 – The Final Chapter
This brings me to the present. It has been a couple of weeks since I had to kill Marty. Other than experiencing a deep sense of loneliness, I have not experienced any other side effects from drinking her blood. I will never know if she was created from the bite of a bat like me, or if she was another kind of creation.
I am thinking about making another change in my life. I keep on seeing her walking through the house. I think I smell her and hear her from time to time. I am standing in my backyard looking over the city, hoping that someday I will be fortunate enough to meet another Marty or someone that will make my life worth living.
If you wake up one night and think you have seen a figure move through your room, it may be me just satisfying my urge or looking for someone to be my partner. Sleep well.
James
A note from the author
This is my story. You can believe it or not. I have been thinking about writing this diary for many years and I finally had the courage to do so. I have tried to describe every detail as best as I can, and in some cases add a little humor in the process. There are too many incidents that I was involved in, and I could only cover the most important ones. If I decide to continue with my exploits, I will describe other interesting things that brought me to where I am now.
If I used the name of a person or place that you think you might know, it was probably just a coincidence.
Diary of a Blood Drinker Page 11