You’ll find monsters where you least expect them or when you least want them. Look at me, I blend in perfectly; I wear the same clothes they do, I have my hair cut short as many men do and I have a job in the center of the city. People that pass me on the street would never guess that I have killed thousands of people, drank their blood and fed on their—hmmm—sweet meats. I have been doing this for quite some time. No matter how much I try to stop, I cannot.
They pass me without as much as a thought, then they wish they would have been more wary of crossing my path, at whatever hour, when I decide they are “deserving”. A talent I’ve had to practice. The Darkness has at least taught me something; I see their souls as it does. I know everything about someone just by being near them and I use it to decide whether they will be my next meal. Some pray for mercy, others threaten and my favorite, the ones that don’t struggle at all as though they knew the day would come for them.
With the large body count in my wake, I wonder why the police have not found me and try to punish me as they have in the past? Do they see my victims as “deserving” as well? I guess anything is possible, but probably unlikely. I don’t see much press on my kills either, if any at all. It is as though they do not happen. Sometimes it feels as though they put these people in my path, knowing I will take them out without another thought.
Most people are good, believe it or not. Of course, everyone has some sort of dark secret they wish to keep hidden, but I see it, all of it. Don’t get me wrong, the hunger does not go unfilled; there are plenty of the “deserving” for twenty of me to feed. The Darkness does not understand my selectiveness but it no longer questions; however, it does taunt me still when it desires a soul more pure, like her, in its diet; I never give in. She will remain free of me.
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