They made me drink my own blood again and again day after day, night after night.
It started when I was just a child, too young to understand what real pain even meant. My real father left when I was only four not looking back and that's when my so called mother started to lose her mind. Well I never called her mother really because if I would she would beat the shit out of me and I never saw her as one anyway.
She married a new man soon after. The one I only ever knew as her husband.
My birth giver was cheating on my dad with him for all thouse four years...always staying at work at night saying she has late shift.
My father never said a word, he just left oneday but well he didn't have to explain himself for me to know why.
They were scientists by profession, but what they did in that basement was to horrific to be called science.
They turned it into a place of horror, and I became their experiment....their creation without any raights or say in it.
They killed me more times than I can remember, only to drag me back from the edge each time testing, recording, writeing down .
Each death changed me. Each revival twisted what was left of my humanity. Until finally, I stopped dying. My heart would stop, my blood would freeze, yet somehow I would rise again.
My skin turned white as a corpse, my body allergic to the sun. My organs decayed, unable to process anything but blood. It became my curse and my salvation, the only thing that could keep me alive.
That's how the first vampire was made.
I am what their madness created: immortal, but only until someone ends me. I cannot die from time or age... but if a bullet finds my heart, or a blade my throat only then will I fall.