The Vampire's Unforgotten Story Page #2

This is a snippet to my story that I am writing, but I have been working on this for so long, and I'm really proud of it. It is about a vampire who is recounting the stories of his life, to a reporter but she gets a different story than her father did.

• Horror
• Fiction

								

                  I crouched down to the level of my nephew and niece, looking at them sternly but gently.” “Listen, you two,” “I said, my tone firm but not cruel.” “You have to learn how to share with each other. It’s not fair if one of you has all the toys and the other one has nothing.” “I could feel my father’s ghost still whispering in my ear, his words like poison, but I pushed them away as I continued speaking to my nephew and niece. I tried to keep my facial expression calm and neutral, despite the internal struggle going on in my mind.” “I then had enough, and stood up abruptly, turning to face the spot where I could see my father's ghost standing. Anger and frustration boiled inside of me, and I snapped, shouting at the spectre.” 
                             “Enough!” I yelled, my voice echoing through the air. “I’ve had enough of your constant nagging and criticism. Just leave me alone!” “My heart sank as I saw my nephew and niece start to cry, their little faces crumpling in fear and confusion. I wanted to go over and comfort them, but my sister’s husband picked them up before I could move. I watched as he carried them inside, their little bodies shaking with tears. I felt guilty and ashamed, knowing that my outburst had upset them. I turned around and closed my eyes, unable to see my nephew and nieces crying eyes, with my hands on my waist I felt my sister’s presence behind me and she placed a hand on my back. I turned around to face my sister, my guilt and anger still churning within me. Her hand on my back was a small comfort, but it did a little to ease the turmoil inside me. I met her gaze, my expression weary and conflicted. 
                   “I’m sorry,” “I muttered, my voice gruff and low.” “I didn’t mean to scare them… or you.” “I felt a pang of protectiveness and love towards my sister. She was my kin, my family, and I had always wanted to keep her safe and happy. I took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself.” “I never want to scare you,” “I said sincerely.” “You’re my sister, and I love you. I just… got carried away.”  
                 “What happened?” “She said to me, and I hesitated for a moment before answering my sister’s question. I didn’t want to trouble her with the details of my inner turmoil, so I lied and said,” “Nothing. I’m just stressed with the business.” “I knew it was a complete lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. I hoped she wouldn’t pry further, noticing the tension in my voice.” 
“She left it alone, and went inside to check on her children, patting me on the shoulder reassuringly. I couldn’t bear the voices in my head any longer - my father’s ghost and my own guilt. I couldn’t stand the weight of it all. So I made a decision. I quietly went out the backgate and into the city, my mind set on one thing - putting an end to this inner turmoil.” 
             “Where did you go?” Hayley asked me, and I sighed deeply, closing my eyes. 
“I went to see him.” I clenched my teeth, in memory of him. Despite my best efforts to cut ties with him, he was still tied to me through the business. My father had made sure of that by dividing the company’s assets between us. I worked on my side, while Nikoli worked on his. It was a constant source of irritation and frustration.” 
                    “I kicked down the door of his home, with a force I didn’t know I had, my heart pounding in my chest as if trying to break free. The smell hit me first, coppery, thick, like iron filings in the air. Blood. My boots splashed into a pool of it as I stumbled into the room. Bodies were strewn across the floor like discarded dolls, lifeless and twisted. Limbs, heads, eyes wide open in terror. I froze, my breath caught in my throat, trying to make sense of the chaos in front of me. My mind wanted to deny what I was seeing, but the truth was impossible to ignore. He sat at the centre of it all, at a small, worn table in the corner of the room, completely unfazed. His eyes met mine with a slow, deliberate sense of calm. He didn’t even bother hiding the monster he truly was, not anymore. Not from me. A woman lay limp beside him, her head rolled to the side, hair cascading off the chair, her neck bent in a grotesque angle. Her wrist dangled loosely in his grip as he drained her blood into a crystal glass. He whistled an off-tune melody, almost cheerful, as if the massacre around him was just a casual, everyday occurrence. The whistle stopped, and he raised the glass to his lips, savouring it like it was the finest wine. He tilted his head toward me, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.” 
              “I knew you’d come,” “he said, his voice a low, honeyed draw. “No need for theatrics. You’ve seen worse, haven’t you?” “My blood turned cold. He knew exactly what he was doing. He thought, after everything, after making me kill my father, I’d numb to this. That I could stomach the carnage without flinching, just like him. He believed he could trust me, trust that I wouldn’t recoil from seeing him for the monster he really was. But I did flinch. Not outwardly, never outwardly, but inside, I felt the familiar twist of nausea, that creeping fear crawling up my spine. “
                “I thought we were past secrets,” “he continued, his voice dripping with mock sincerity.” “After what you did, after I helped you, I figured…. you’d understand.” “I swallowed hard, my throat dry, my gaze flicking back to the bodies. I forced myself to meet his eyes again, eyes that had once seemed human but now gleamed with something dark, something ancient. He grinned, sharp and cruel.” 
           “We’re in this together now, aren’t we?” “The glass then clinked gently as he set it down, his fingers still stained red. He leaned back in his chair, watching me. Waiting. I didn’t know what scared me more, the bloodshed, the bodies, or the fact that deep down, a part of me knew he was right.  
            Nikolai observed my fear and moved closer to me as he stood up from his chair, his words laced with a hint of mockery. “Does it ever get tiring,” he asked in his french accent, which held a weight of unspoken pain, “pretending so much, Damien?” “I tensed, my body reflexively wanting to step back from him, but I held my ground.” 
            “Suddenly, I remembered all the news reports I had read over the years, detailing unexplained deaths and disappearances. As I looked around at the bodies surrounding Nikolai’s lair, his eyes lit up with a sadistic delight as he saw me putting the pieces together. I looked at Nikolai, mind coming to a chilling realisation as I spoke.  “There was no killer, no plague or anything. It was you.” Nikolai chuckled softly, a wicked gleam in his eyes. 
                “You’re catching on quick,” he said with a smirk. “But, answer my question, does it ever get tiring, pretending to be so strong, so powerful, so remorseless?” “I felt a pang of defensiveness, but I kept my expression stoic.” 

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