Incendiary

The reflection in the mirror that stared back at me was horrific.

My eyes were flooded a solid crimson, lacking any whites or pupils. My lips were painted red and blood had dried around my mouth and chin. Sixteen sharp teeth pressed against the supple flesh of my lower lip, two of which protruded down past it. My skin was taut and healthy, tan but on the pale side. My eyes tracked down the rest of my body, gliding over the dips and curves that were stained with blood. My gaze fell to my hands, where lean, narrow fingers twisted into talons.

I was draped in a coat of blood that was not my own. I was a messy eater, even after all these years. Perhaps I didn't want to be neat and tidy, though. I liked wearing the life fluid that humans treasured so much. Without it pumping through their veins, it was nothing and they were dead. I could wear it on my skin wastefully while some poor mortal withered to death at my feet, the blood they needed to survive being within reach but utterly useless to them.

I was a monster, plain and simple. You couldn't sugar coat it. You couldn't change it. I was a blood-sucking, immortal, painfully sadistic being. And I liked what I saw in the mirror.

A low wail from the adjoining room roused me from my stupor. My lip curled into a snarl and I turned on my heel, stalking toward the noise.

"Perhaps I'll string you up by your toes and bleed you dry," I mused as I paced into the room, cocking my head viciously at the dying woman on the floor. She reached a hand toward me and I stepped back in disgust, the revulsion evident on my face. She opened her mouth repeatedly to speak, but the only thing that came out were rivulets of blood. She gagged and then twitched, her body convulsing spasmodically as I watched in fascination. Death always intrigued me.

I watched as more of her blood spilled to the floor, heaving a sigh when she finally stilled and her dead eyes peered blankly at the ceiling.

"Wasted, always wasted," I muttered as I set about gathering up the plastic she laid on. I wrapped it around her before stepping back. I was messy, but I preferred to keep my hardwood floors immaculate and blood was notoriously difficult to get out. My food was always served on a sheet of plastic.

I left her still-warm body on the floor before meandering back into my bathroom. I peeled off my bloody clothes and dropped them into a plastic bag before climbing into my shower.

As the blood ran off my body, I watched it tinge the water pink and then swirl into the drain. My thundering, albeit dead, heart eventually calmed to an irregular, slow pace before it stopped altogether. The trembling set in soon after as the blood high wore off.

I raked shampoo and conditioner through my blonde-bordering-on-brown hair, my hands shaking. I then grabbed my washcloth and soap, scrubbing my skin so hard that it drifted to a shade of angry red.

Finally satisfied with my raw skin, I shut off the water and stepped out, grabbing a thick towel and wrapping it around myself. My eyes drifted back to the mirror.

Warm hazel irises peered back at me, the appropriate size with an appropriately dilated pupil in the middle.

I'd stuffed my guilt down a long time ago in order to deal with what I had become. I murdered without remorse. I'd convinced myself that I liked what I was, what I did. And the sickest part was that it was true. I liked the monster that I was. I reveled in it, but that damned niggling, that quiet voice in the back of my mind, never shut up. The trembling was some side effect of that thread of guilt and my need for blood.

After toweling out my hair, I tugged on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of shoes, stretching my jaw wide to alleviate some of the soreness as I headed back to the dead woman. My fangs ached from feeding, so I retracted them, pulling them back to replace them with acceptable human teeth.

I hoisted the woman's corpse over my shoulder, being sure to tuck in the plastic ends so that no blood leaked out. I left my apartment via the fire escape and slipped into the dark alleyway behind the building. Staying strictly to the shadows, I moved quickly to return the woman to where I had found her. I wanted her family to be able to bury her. I wasn't completely heartless.

I discarded the plastic on my way back home.

Upon reaching my apartment, I did what I normally did after a meal. I went to my closet, sank into a sitting position, and squeezed myself into the darkest corner, my hanging shirts brushing the top of my head. I drew my knees up to my chest, rocking forward slightly as I clutched handfuls of my hair.

I dealt with the monster I was.