Chapter 8: My little human
Alaric’s POV
No one has ever shown me genuine kindness. I’ve never been on the receiving end of it, not even once in my long, cursed existence. I learned, long ago, that the world is cruel, that mercy is a fleeting illusion meant for others, never for me. I stopped expecting it. I stopped hoping. Instead, I embraced the darkness, let it consume me, let it shape me into something neither fully alive nor entirely dead. I became a shadow, a whisper, a forgotten nightmare lingering at the edges of reality.
But that day—when I was shot and left for dead—everything changed. A mere human, fragile and ignorant of what I truly am, showed me mercy. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t turn away in disgust or fear. He saved me. Me, of all creatures. I still don’t understand why. Perhaps he simply saw a dying soul and acted on impulse. Perhaps his heart is too kind, too open, too foolish. Whatever the reason, it does not matter. What matters is that, in that moment, he altered the course of my existence.
And because of that, I have made it my life’s duty to protect him, to ensure that he is always safe, always cared for, even if he never knows I exist.
I watch over him, always in the shadows, always close. He doesn’t realize it, but I’m there. I was there the other night when his colleagues brought him home, drunk and vulnerable. He had laughed too much, talked too loudly, his eyes glossy with intoxication. He trusts too easily, oblivious to the dangers that lurk in the hearts of men. And when that despicable doctor—the one who feigns kindness but hides darkness in his heart—attempted to take advantage of him, I stopped him. The doctor won’t try again. He’s learned his lesson. And if he hasn’t, well... I have ways of ensuring he never forgets.
My human will never know the danger he was in that night, nor how close he came to being violated. And that’s fine. My purpose is not to be thanked. My purpose is to protect.
This morning, I prepared his breakfast. I left it on the counter before vanishing into my usual hiding place, waiting to see if he would finally accept this small gesture. A meal, simple yet nourishing. Warm food, meant to ease his exhaustion, to remind him that he is not alone—even if he doesn’t know it yet. But my little human threw it away.
It stung, more than I care to admit. But I understood. He doesn’t know me yet. Doesn’t realize that the meal this morning wasn’t some trick of his exhausted mind. That someone is looking out for him. That someone cares.
But that won’t stop me. Tomorrow, I will do it again. And the day after that. And the day after that. Because ensuring his well-being is now my duty, my purpose.
He saved me once. Now, I will save him, over and over again, until the day I am no longer needed. And if that day never comes... then so be it.
--I find myself at the hospital today, the place I despise most. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and blood, a cloying mixture that clings to every surface, seeping into my senses. The underlying hum of human suffering presses in from every corner—the beeping monitors, the muffled sobs, the hurried footsteps of overworked nurses. It makes my fangs ache, makes the hunger coil within me like a living thing, whispering insidious temptations into my ear. The blood bank is just down the hall, locked away behind steel doors, but I could get in if I wanted to. Just a taste. Just enough to quiet the gnawing void inside me.