It was about three years ago when the initial itchings of him evolved within me, always while I slept.
I was searching for something in the remnants of a burnt-out home. It had rained that night. Damp carbon fumes permeated the space with a sickly odor. The kind of smell that welds itself onto your memory for the rest of your natural life…..for some of us.
My search was not frantic, it was at a cold pace. There was no anger inside me, but a quest.
His fangs become more tense as the time passes. The sharp curved claws protruding from my slender fingers twitch in anticipation of the kill I will make tomorrow night.
I have fully prepared for my sacrifice’s slaughter. I know that I sin; there is someone watching me. A person who understands my actions, but he is alien to me, and I loathe him.
Could I exact my penance on them, or have I already begun?
Or is he my first victim?
Or am I his victim!
Self-loathing, hate, has risen from within me, becoming his own being.
This split has taken a part of what made me distinct, what made me human.
I must find this hate and absorb him back into me, but I don’t know how?
I don’t even know where to start?
©️ written ~ 2020. Jacob Pickard.2026
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