Patient A-3

Chapter 15: Cierien

 When the morning arrived, I left her there. The scorching sun burned my eyes as I made my way home. By the time I reached our little cabin, Cillian had already gone for school. I left my poor younger brother a note along with all the funds I had managed to gather and made the heartwrenching decision to never return. I knew I had to escape and couldn't allow myself to drag Cillian down with me.

 News of Margaret's death spread quickly, and my name was plastered all over town as the prime suspect. In the first week of my desperate flight, I began to acclimate to the symptoms of my illness: heightened strength, speed, and an insatiable hunger. Terrified of being around people, I took to sleeping under the shelter of the dense forest. As time passed, the urge to satisfy my hunger became unbearable, and I eventually had no option but to hunt.

 I roasted a bird over an open fire but found it impossible to consume. It became clear that it was the blood I craved. I believed myself to be an abomination, and the fear of seeking medical help gnawed at me. I was convinced that if I saw a doctor, I'd be arrested due to my connection to Margaret's death. I spent months living in those woods, surviving by feeding on the blood of any unfortunate animal I could catch.

 Months turned into a year, and soon my 18th year had come. I couldn't continue living like that, tormented by my affliction. I attempted to end my life but swiftly discovered that not even the sharpest stone could drain me of all my blood. Instead, my desperate attempts to die only intensified the bloodlust within me. With my energy depleted, I remained rooted in one place, immobilized for days on end. I believed I deserved to wither away for the terrible things I had done, for what I had become. On the verge of unconsciousness, starved and weakened, I saw an angel. Or so I thought.

 She appeared before me, a vision of ethereal beauty. Her hair was a cascade of radiant blonde, neatly arranged upon her head, held in place by glistening golden barrettes. Her eyes, large and a mesmerizing shade of green, sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight. The bridge of her nose was delicate and pointed, adorned with a smattering of soft freckles. Her lips full and painted pink, seemed almost otherworldly in their allure. At that moment, I believed her to be the most heavenly woman I had ever seen. Her name was Idalia Wellington.

 I could discern from the look in her eyes when she first saw me that she understood what I was, what had become of me. Nevertheless, she welcomed me into her home and offered me rest. She cleaned the dried blood from my face and provided me with fresh clothes. She didn't exhibit fear, and she believed me when I said I couldn't control my monstrous nature.

 As the unrelenting hunger continued to torment me, she went to great lengths to help. She broke her skin, feeding me her very own blood. Her undying kindness gave me a sense of hope. But just like everything else in my life, it too died.

 I fell deeply in love with her, captivated by her soft features, sweet voice, and the unwavering care she showered upon me. I never thought it was possible for something so pure and sweet to decay so swiftly. When I mustered the courage to confess my love for her, she returned my affections wholeheartedly. We shared dinner, read books together, dreamt side by side, and even made love in each other's arms. Those initial months felt like the zenith of my existence.

 But over time, our relationship took a dark turn. Idalia seemed to constantly demand that I had to prove myself to earn her love. The once-loving woman began subjecting me to relentless name-calling, berating, and disdainful looks that became a daily agony. Despite being the one who willingly offered her blood and even encouraged it, not a single day passed without her making me feel like a wretched monster for what I could not control.

 You hurt me, Cierien.

 You're a monster.

 A blood-sucking demon.