The Vampire's Unforgotten Story Page #3

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

								

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to maintain my composure. 
             “Like today, when you were with your sister and her husband and their children, and you snapped at them, because of your father’s ghost, I assume that’s why you came here to blame me for what I made you do.” Nikolai’s words hit me like a knife, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. He had witnessed my outburst at my sister’s house, the one triggered by my father’s ghost., And now he was taunting me, suggesting that I came here to blame him. 
            “How did….” I started, my voice catching in my throat. “How did you know about that?” “his eyes then lit up in delight and softness, as his mouth curved in a soft smile. 
           “I’ve been watching you for a while, did you really think after that night that I was going to leave you alone.” “he chuckled, amusedly, Nikolai’s words sent a shiver down my spine. He admitted that he had been watching me for a while, but the knowledge that he had been keeping tabs on me for so long made my blood boil.”
           “You’ve been spying on me?” “I growled, my voice low, rough, laced with the anger that simmered just beneath the surface. Nikolai’s smirk widened, as if he found my anger amusing. He pushed off the doorframe, taking a step closer. I tense, my hands balling into fists at my sides. Every inch of him radiated confidence, like he was completely in control of the situation. 
     “No need to get defensive,” he said, his tone mockingly soothing. “I was simply… keeping an eye on things. Making sure you were safe.” “Safe? The word felt like an insult coming from his mouth. He took another step, his presence overwhelming the space between us, and I fought the urge to back away. I couldn’t show weakness. Not now. 
             “I don’t need your protection,” I spat, my teeth clenched. “And I don’t need you watching my every move like some kind of–” 
“Predator?” he finished for me, his eyes gleaming with amusement, like I had just said something that entertained him. “You can call it what you want, but I’m not going anywhere.” “My breath hitched in my throat. His calm, his complete disregard for boundaries, for decency, for my privacy it all felt like some twisted game. Like he enjoyed pushing me to the edge, just to see how far he could go before I broke.” 
               “You don’t get to decide that,” I snapped, stepping toward him, closing the gap between us. I could feel the heat rising in my chest, the anger bubbling up, ready to spill over. “You don’t get to just–” 
             “Don’t I?” he interrupted, his voice lowering, darkening. His amusement faded, replaced by something far more dangerous. His gaze locked onto mine, cold and unyielding, and for a moment, I could feel the weight of his power, of what he truly was.       
              “You think you have a choice in this, but you don’t. After that night, we’re bound together. You can hate it all you want, but it won’t change the fact that I’m not leaving you alone. Not now. Not ever.” “My pulse quickened, my mind racing as his words sank in. He wasn’t bluffing. He wasn’t playing a game. This was real. He had been watching me, waiting, planning whatever this was, it wasn’t going to end easily. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath, trying to ignore the cold dread seeping into my bones. But the fury still burned hot inside me, and I wasn’t going to let him win. Not like this.” 
          “I don’t care what you think this is,” I said through gutted teeth, my voice a harsh whisper. “Stay the hell away from me.” “He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled again, that same unnerving, knowing smile that made my skin crawl.” 
             “You’re not scared of me,” “he murmured, his voice soft, almost gentle.” “Not really. You’re just angry. That’ll pass.” “I wanted to scream at him, to shove him away, but I couldn’t move. I could only stand there, trapped between the rage and the cold reality of the situation, as Nikolai slowly turned and walked out of the room, leaving me in the suffocating silence of my own fury.” 
                    “He stood before me, his presence as overwhelming as ever, the shadows of the room seeming to gather around him, drawn to darkness. There was something terrifying calm about him, something cruelly detached, like he was speaking to me from some higher, twisted place where pain and empathy were mere playthings. He was so delusional, so sadistic. Every fibre of my being screamed at me to stay away, to run as far from him as I could. But I couldn’t. No matter how much I hated him— hated the things he had done to me, the pull was there, binding me to him in ways I couldn’t explain. It was sick. It was twisted. But it was real. He smiled, sensing the conflict that churned inside me. He always knew, like he could read me better than I could read myself. That made me hate him even more. 
                “Do you want to know why I chose you?” “he asked, his voice low and smooth, the same voice he always used when he was about to break something inside me. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My throat tightened, my fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms so hard it hurt. But I refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. He didn’t deserve it. He took a step closer, his dark eyes never leaving mine, that same predatory gleam flickering in their depths. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, the suffocating tension building between us. He was waiting for me to crack.” 
                 “I made you kill your father,” he said, the words slipping out of his mouth like a confession, but there was no remorse, only that cold, detached cruelty. “To take that pain away from you.” “I froze. His words felt like a punch to the gut, a fresh wave of nausea rising in my throat. The memory of that night, of my father’s blood staining my hands, flashed in my mind like a cruel reminder of what I’d done. What he made me do. My breath caught in my chest, a mixture of rage and disbelief surging inside me.”  
         “You made me kill him,” I whispered, my voice trembling with fury. “And now you think it was for me? To take the pain away?” “His words twisted in my gut, stirring up memories I had tried to bury, The way my father had torn me down, his harsh words and cruel hands, how I had learned to fear the sound of his footsteps in the hallway. I had every reason to want him gone, and yet, when I stood over his lifeless body, there was no satisfaction. No peace. Just emptiness. Nikolai’s eyes gleamed, his voice slipping into that familiar dark tone, knowing, like he was reaching into the deepest parts of me, pulling at the raw places I hadn’t even known existed.” 
                  “I did it for you,” “he said, as if that somehow absolved him of everything, as if that could make me see him as something other than the monster he was.” “He hurt you, and I ended that hurt. You should be thanking me.” “I felt my stomach churn, bile rising in my throat.” 

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