Sam's POV: To Set the Record Straight

Sunday, 22/11/2011


I'm not into sugar coating the truth, so I'll get straight to it. I'm Sam Evans, a vampire. And I mean a real one. Sunlight no longer exists for me - I'd rather not ignite and burn to death.

I drink from humans because I'm always hungry. I feed from them because I sometimes get bored. And why should I have to drink fucking synthetic blood or animal blood when they both taste vile?

No, I don't think so. Human blood is the only thing I'm supposed to drink. Warm, sweet blood from a human's body is such a gift that I always have access to.

I do use my vampiric talents to mess around, too. The lightening speed makes it easy to screw people over, my acute senses freak people out and I can follow them around with my silent walk. May as well make full use of them.

Plus, I have a combination of features which are irresistible to humans, which make me hypnotic and dangerous; I could get any one of them to do what I asked, whenever I asked.

However, unlike the vamps you would read about in books or watch on TV, I don't have that deep knowledge about the arts, literature and whatever else. School was kind of a struggle for me, considering my dyslexia, and that wouldn't suddenly change because I turned into a vamp. Although I have all this spare time on my hands, I use it for more exciting things like…well, the bad things in life, the sins.

You'll never really hear much about a young vampire like myself – I still sing, dance, and slip back into my American slang here and there, which British girls tend to fall for.

As soon as I changed, I left everything else behind. My 'fuck-it' attitude made that pretty easy.

Despite all that, having too much money was one thing I had in common with fictional vamps, although it's not acquired from a century worth of work or having rich ancestors to inherit from. I've never dug for diamonds in Sierra Leone or sold expensive keepsakes. I haven't been alive-slash-undead long enough for that, anyway. I've stolen a few cars, robbed an occasional bank, lifted some things from jewellery stores or sometimes asked people (in the polite way that I do) to hand something expensive over to me.

I'm afraid to admit it but I know my sense of humanity is receding. All my human compassion is dissipating as I become colder and as more human blood enters my system. I have an infinity of lifetimes ahead to care about that, though.

So far, it was all about discovering my capabilities. How fast could I run, how far could I get a girl addicted to me, how many stores could I rob in a night? Was there a maximum amount of blood I could drink within a week?

Was there a limit on the amount of damage I could do?

I've done a lot throughout the last few years, the last few days especially.

But now, I was about to outdo myself.

22:26, the previous Friday

As a group of semi-drunk teenagers staggered past me, the smell of smoke and alcohol reminded me of what day it'd be in a few hours.

My fucking vampire birthday. The day I was turned, I mean.

My human birthday was in May, and I should have turned twenty years old. Today, I was stuck at the age of eighteen again. For the rest of my life, I'll be turning the same age.

The cold and dark November afternoons allowed me to walk outside earlier in the evenings than I could in summer and though there was still a light tint in the otherwise murky sky – which slightly stung my skin – I was fine.

When I was sixteen, my dad moved the family here to the UK for a very promising job, helping with the construction and set up for the London Olympics. For a short while, it was great and things were looking up for the Evans family. Then it all went fucking downhill.

I don't know why I'm still here though; possibly because it was so cold and generally darker here that I found myself wanting to stay shrouded in it.

A turn into the canal way and my apartment was five minutes down the stony path. No one was around, so I was able to run (actually run) home. I leaped onto the brick wall that separated the path from the apartments, and swung up to the fifth floor using the balcony railings.

Feeling the cold air whip past my even colder skin was the only reminder that I was exerting energy. It was just like flexing a muscle: one of the perks that came with the fangs. I reached the back window, and pushed it open.

Using the treasures I had taken from a jewellery store last year, I had my apartment tricked out with automated opaque blinds fitted in to every window, to block out any sunlight from trickling in. Even in the day, my apartment would be doused in shadow.

There were no sources of fire here either, because I wasn't risking being anywhere near open flames when it was one of the few things that could kill me.

My bed was a super king sized canopy, with heavy black drapes surrounding it. Yes, I do sleep, and I sleep a lot. Around three or four in the morning, I'm always dead-tired.

After changing into clothes that fit the occasion and before I jumped back out of the window, I stole a quick glance in the mirror - an old habit.

"Damn it." An old human habit, I should say.

I only saw the giant bed behind me as I stupidly forgot I had no reflection; and half of me wanted to laugh it off, but the other half wanted to smash the fucking glass into shards. Tell me why I had this mirror anyway? It was just a big pretence.

Sliding the window closed behind me, I jumped over the balcony, feeling just one quick whip of air as I fell, and landed with my feet planted on the gravel – as if I'd stepped forward on level ground.


In my peripheral vision, I saw a couple, maybe in their thirties, frozen on the spot.

"How'd you…?" The woman started, looking up to my floor.

Keeping strong eye contact with the boyfriend, a smirk on my face, I said "How did I what?"

In one second, he blinked and then turned to his girlfriend.

"How'd I what, babe?"

I vanished then, up the path and onto the main road. See? Natural troublemaker.

Walking down Broad Street, I was bored straight away when I saw the same type of girls and the same type of clubs over and over.

The repulsive smell of inebriation (of alcohol, drugs, smoke and vomit) actually turned me off from drinking any humans here.

Several girls stared as I walked past, some stumbling over their sluggish feet just to come close to me, but soon having to jog to keep up pace.

"Prick," I heard one man slur.

By the time I decided to stop and turn back around, the man was still finishing off the word.

Two girls continued to walk up to me, fluffing their hair and pushing out their chests. The other guys standing by all took a step back, thinking that he was about to get his face smashed in. Immediately, with me, they saw danger.

Point taken, it was my super-enhanced hearing that allowed me to pick up his comment, and I did turn around too quickly

With a hint of amusement, I replied. "What?"

He was too drunk to be careful; so he squared his shoulders and answered – an instant mistake.

"I said," not even able to get his words out properly without spitting all over himself "that you…are a p-"

I'd walked over at my vampire speed as soon as his sloppy mouth formed the word 'prick' again.

Either he was too drunk or I was so quick that he didn't even notice I was inches away from him. Not until I had a grip on his arm.

"I'm, uh, hard of hearing, sorry," and I squeezed his arm. He took a sharp intake of breath, in too much pain to make a sound. "Say it again." I squeezed that bit harder.

"Shit, mate!" He was sinking to the floor, arm still in my grip.

That British term had always grated on me for some reason. "'Watch your mouth kid, or you'll find yourself floating home,'" I didn't care less that I was quoting Star Wars, it was just the right thing to say, "and I'm not your fucking mate, either," and then I crushed my fingers into his arm.

The way he was screaming and writhing when I released him, I think I might have broken it. The loud crack we all heard was a hint, too. And I didn't even do much to it, so I felt kinda pleased with myself.

A small woman shrunk into the man she was with, and his arm tightened protectively around her.

I looked down at the guy on the ground.

"Bastard" he managed to cough out, cradling his arm.

I couldn't really argue with that, not when it was kind of true with my overreaction.

With my excuse that every one was drunk, I ran, just above human speed.

With no idea where to go, I ran out toward the outskirts of Birmingham.

The incident with him was already out of my concern, but the image of the girl with her man stuck with me a while.

Having to be with just one girl seemed like a burden, they were so easily damaged.

It was probably different with vampire couples because they'd both be able to fend (or kill) for themselves and defend the other.

I hadn't yet met another vampire, not here. I've only been a vampire for two years anyhow, and I wouldn't really expect Birmingham to be teeming with creatures like me.

So that meant I needed to branch out farther.


And I don't understand why exaggerated stories and badly made movies have vamp guys getting all involved with human girls. No vampire should be so weak – they shouldn't show it, at least. I considered love a weakness in itself.

I knew I could run so much faster than I did to get here, but that was a test for another day – maybe another year if I had that time.

Yeah, time is all I have.

I was standing outside Empire Leicester Square Cinema glancing over the films they had showing. Terrible ones, was the answer.

People were walking up and down the streets, taxis were backed up in the roads and sober girls in thick coats and miniskirts were everywhere.

One girl stumbled into me, pressing her warm body into mine – too enthusiastic to really be accidental.

She looked up, and I stared down at her. I could see her face was showing both attraction and repellence, but the more logical side took over as she saw my red-tinged green eyes.

"S-sorry," she stuttered, and hurried away.

I heard the liquid sound of her heart pounding faster; and the sweet smell of it near the surface of her skin made its way through my nose, mouth, throat and then the rest of me.

I was seriously hungry, and my big appetite was one of the few things which had passed over from my human life.