A vampire's Choice

The night was dark as clouds covered the bright moon, only the flames illuminating the area. Four torches aligned the area, making a square as he stood in the middle of them. The thick trees surrounded them, making it impossible to look out, better so that no one can also not look in.

"We are gathered here tonight..."

Roger drowned out the voices, his head bend and focused on the ground. He has often counted the pebbles, a mundane task but the only thing that would distract him from his current predicament. The mix of grey colors allowed him to lose himself, but the drops of his blood blending in was a sour reminder. The chains rattled as he tried to get comfortable, his hands bound tightly behind his back. Stones pierced his legs while they were tugged beneath him, the dull pain fueling his anger. The first time he tried to help someone, and this happened.

Smack

"Aaahhh," Roger screamed as his back arched, the whip searing deep in his skin. He slowly lifted his head, making eye contact with them—the ones who bound him down.

"Are you listening, demon,” the man sneered.

Roger observed the man, taking in all his details. The leader stood out from the rest, his deep blue cloak a sign of power, but it was a beacon of his hatred for Roger. In it was a short, stubby man, his brown, oily hair tied back. His looks reminded him of a frog, but that would be an insult to the species.

His muscles screamed in protest as Roger lifted his back, pulling his shoulders back. These people were fools, and he refused to look weak to them. Their gazes were on him when he quickly scanned the crowd before looking back at him.

"You have been charged with satanic activity and sentenced to death. What do you have to say for yourself, you foul creature."

The crowd chanted boos at him, mixed in with a few slurs. Roger closed his eyes, his anger surfacing. What he is charged with was right, but he did not need them to see his true face. Slowly, they quietened, and he opened his eyes. The taste of iron filled his mouth, which he gathered, spitting it out before answering.

"I am not in league with the devil, or satan, for that fact. But what I am, is just a man who tried to save your daughter," he emphasized the last word. “The incident must have caused her to hallucinate these stories."

The man's mouth dropped open at the insult to his blood, and with a nod, he indicated to the jailor. The few seconds’ warning allowed Roger to prepare for the whip and quickly closed his eyes, imagining better things. His advanced hearing made the whip's blow echoed in his ears, and he ground his teeth together, trying to lock his jaw and not make any noise.

"Be careful what you say, demon.” The man smirked as he watched down from his perch, the claps from the town's people encouraging him.

A cool breeze brushed his exposed back, moments relieve from the searing heat of his skin. All the while, he had kept his eyes locked on the man's, not missing the look of victory on him. Roger released a deep breath before straightening himself again, his knees baring the weight as it painfully crashed into the ground.

"No, your honor. I am only retelling my side of the story," he explained.

"Pft.” The man snorted. "Why would we believe you? Your words are the devil's words."

Roger shook his head at the statement, these people fools and closed-minded. For years now, he tried to live peacefully with them and others, but repeatedly, they proved his points. Humans will always fear the unknown.

"Believe what you may. My soul is clear of any darkness,” he proudly announced.

The man clapped his hands as he turned to the others standing behind him. "You see, lies.” His hands spread out before him. "This demon spews lies to kind and good folks like yourself. Demons do not have souls."

"And what proof do you have?" Roger interrupted his speech.

The man spun around fast, his eyes squinting straight at him. The hatred is dripping thick from him. "How dare you interfere?"

"I am only asking a simple question.” A smile of amusement peeked out from his bloodied face, "Maybe it is too difficult for your small mind to comprehend."

"Why, you insolent fool..."

The rest of his speech drowned away as the whip slashed him over and over, the world turning dark in his vision. His body became numb to all feelings as he crumbled to the floor, only his chest rising as he took deep breaths. The cheers of the group assaulted his senses, invading his mind and breaking open the door to his anger. His blood boiled while his teeth elongated. Roger tried hard to suppress his other half, but the longer he lay listening to their madness, the more it rose to the surface.

"STOP..." Roger's body unfurled from the ground, rising faster than their human eyes could see.

"He... he. It is true.” Gasps lit up as he stood before them, covered in blood and his eyes blacker than the night.

Roger lifted his arms to his side, raising his head to the masses. "Is this what you wanted?" he spewed at them. Their eyes grew huge when they saw his eyes, some dropping to their knees in prayers.

"Devil,” the leader shouted, a contrast to his body language as he stepped back, bumping into a few of his followers, sending them crashing into the ground. Roger smirked in his direction as he scanned the crowds before coming to a stop on the man.

"No, not the devil. Just a man trying to start a life after some unforeseen circumstances." He gathered his strength and pulled but being starved for more than a day has weakened him; the chains merely creaked at his attempt. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to will his body to do this, but was interrupted.

"Burn him." He pointed the death-sentenced finger at him while the man laughed.

Roger knew his time was up, and he pulled with all his might. The peg in the ground shifted slightly, and he pulled harder, but suddenly, a searing heat exploded in his side. One of the soldiers had grabbed the flame, trying to burn him. Roger kicked out at him, sending the soldier flying back. The people watching realized that they were in trouble, their strain to get away from him overriding common sense. Bodies scrambled around, smacking into each other while they shouted and screamed. Four more soldiers ran at him, each brandishing torches. Roger calculated how to attack but was too late as more heat seared his already bruised back. He swiftly spun around to face the source but was stopped when another soldier threw the torch into his arm. The pain made him drop to his knees. They took the opportunity to surround him, the fire aimed at him. The heat emitting from the torches made him sweat, and with a glance around, he realized there was no chance to escape.

"Bring it," he yelled at them.

The red flames covered his vision, the heat burning his skin as they advanced.

"NOOOOOO..."

The room was dark with the light from the fires long gone. Roger shot up from his bed, ready to fight. He could feel his heart beating radically in his chest as he scanned the room, but seconds later, he awoke from the nightmare. The sheets were wet from his sweat, and a wipe on his forehead coated his hand in wetness.

"Fuck,” Roger muttered to himself.

For years now, he has had nightmares about the past, long gone life but they still haunted him now. The cool breeze from the open window soothed his heated skin as he chucked off the blanket and stood up. His eyes instantly adjusting to the dark room as he made his way to the bathroom. His looks have also changed since his past, and now he rarely likes to look at his appearance, so the bathroom light stayed off. The cold water felt great against his skin as he splashed his face. Without missing a beat, he grabbed a towel to dry himself off, all while keeping his eyes closed. Every night was the same story, and every morning the same routine.

Roger neatly folded the used towel, hanging it back on the rack for tomorrow. His closet contained the same colored clothes. White.

"Is this what I am now?” He questioned himself. Ever since one fateful night years ago, a curse was placed on him, one that made him look strange. No horns or body modifications. No, he was pale, not just his skin but also his hair, nails, and everything. The only difference was when he lost control of his bloodlust, his eyes turned black, the true sign of what he is.

Grabbing the first outfit, Roger quickly dressed and went to the kitchen. The mansion he called home was humungous. Filled with all his earthly treasures but bare of emotions. Limited staff filled the endless halls, their presence barely noticeable. Since the curse, he had secluded himself from everybody, only leaving when he needed to feed or help a friend. A small smile crossed his lips as the memory of Vanessa crossed his mind. As their recent mission brought them even closer, she was his closest and only friend, but now it was strange. She was a wolf now, and he a vampire, her species’ enemy. Sure, she was better than that, but it was also something she couldn't change, mixed in with her DNA deep inside her.

"Sir,” a shaky voice whispered behind him.

Roger shook his head, loosening the memories he was having. He slowly turned to face the person, already knowing his long-time butler.

"Yes, Micheal?"

Micheal stood by the door, a concerned look on his face. "I am sorry, sir, you looked a bit preoccupied."

"No, I was just wondering about some stuff," Roger replied. He turned his back on Micheal, making his way to the fridge, opening it. Most vampires prefer fresh blood, himself included, but with his current situation, refrigerated blood had become the norm. Not only because his unusual appearance draws attention but also his bloodlust. If he gets it fresh, he has a hard time stopping and kills innocent people.

"Shit, we are out." Roger slammed the fridge closed hard, making it shake.

Micheal took an involuntary step back at his reaction, but Roger noticed his response, and he calmed down. Micheal was his friend, and he hated scaring him. "I'm sorry.” He quickly turned towards him.

"No problem." He gave a shaky smile. "Do you need me to go into town to get more?"

"No, no." Roger said, "I need fresh air."

"As you please, sir." Micheal gave the nod before leaving the room. The fewer words they spoke, the better for both.

Roger watched his old friend leave, feeling a bit ashamed. He was always in control of his emotions at home, but he felt uneasy since his little outing with Vanessa. Something big was happening, and he knew deep down, he was in the middle of it all.