Adam's Story
Chapter 8

Agony awoke me. My body was burning from the inside out. I was soaked and shivering. My eyes saw nothing but distorted versions of the images before them so I closed them again. A sudden hot sting on my arm caused me to cry out.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the pain eased somewhat. I was able to open my eyes to the blurred reality of my surroundings.

“Does that help?” Mr. Sullner asked, standing over me with an empty syringe in one hand.

I managed a jerky nod.

Mr. Sullner pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down, watching me closely. He folded his hands between his knees in a lecturing pose.

“The blood test had remarkable results,” he said as if I cared to know. “The vampiric venom works somewhat like that of a funnel web spider – only exceptionally more potent and slower-acting. It’s unlike anything I have ever encountered before.

“Your white cell count is very high. Your immune system is trying to counteract the toxin, but it is failing. The poison is breaking your defenses as though they were nonexistent.”

I stared at him. Mr. Sullner was terminally analytical. At present, his zeal irritated me to no end. I have never had a very short temper, but my patience was stretched to its overtaxed limit with his calm intrigue due to the amount of pain I was in.

“What does that mean?” I hissed behind gritted teeth.

“That means,” he explained calmly, “that the toxin will spread throughout your body destroying everything and eventually resulting in the complete shut-down of all major organs. In layman’s terms, Adam, you’re dying.”

The last word was spoken with such subtle emotion that I felt ashamed. I had never witnessed Mr. Sullner become emotional about anything. The sadness he now emanated seemed too private for me.

I let my gaze drop from his. “How long?” I whispered in the silence.

Mr. Sullner drew a deep breath, let it out and continued in his same indifferent tone. “It’s difficult to say. When you account for mass and level of activity, plus the damage already done...Well, you could be looking at another week.”

I sighed loudly imagining seven days of suffering.

“The morphine seems to be helping,” Mr. Sullner offered hopefully.

I nodded, not wanting to tell him that it was already wearing off. I was acutely aware of the fire building up inside me rendering the drug useless.

I refused to speak anymore and eventually fell into a restless sleep. I could still feel the heat and low drumming of my heart spreading death inside me as my subconscious mind played out horrors in forgettable complexities.

Mr. Sullner was standing over me shining a pinpoint of bright light in the eye he held open.

“You’re jaundiced,” he said from miles away.

I snapped back to the dull pain and realized he must have given me some more morphine. It occurred to me that I could overdose before the venom had a chance to finish its work.

“Your liver is failing,” Mr. Sullner stated. His hand felt unbelievably hot against my skin.

I closed my eyes.

The next time they opened the pain was immense. I gasped for air but couldn’t get enough. I was shaking violently. My head throbbed and my vision was off. My heart was pounding fiercely in some vain attempt to prolong my existence.

I sensed Mr. Sullner’s presence and croaked “Morphine” in a shaky, hoarse whisper.

“I’m sorry, Adam. I ran out this morning.”

I succumbed to the pain and prayed for it to be over soon.

I don’t know how much longer I lay in that dank, mildewy cellar before I finally died. I had no sense of time. There was nothing to concentrate on. Nothing to take my mind from my suffering. My memories of then are foggy. Much like a mother forgets the pain of childbirth, I have managed to forget my own death. All I can say is that there was nothing from the time my eyes went dark until they reopened fifteen minutes later. That was on May 10th, 1935 – six days after my encounter with Helena.

*****

I remained in New York at Tom’s family estate for about five months after my transformation. Most of that time was spent in the cellar reading or testing my new abilities. I was nearly as fascinated by my vampire self as Mr. Sullner was.

I managed to break the chains holding me two days after my change. I had yet to sleep and was not tired. I sit idly tugging the links to see how much stress they could take when they snapped. I was amused to find such boundless limits to my new strength. Mr. Sullner, however, rightly viewed me as a threat and kindly asked that I remain confined to the basement. I agreed, perfectly aware of the havoc I could wreak if I chose.

It took me all of those five months to achieve what could be viewed as a harness on my blood lust. I still do not always control myself as I should, but it is much easier now than it was in the beginning. It took every ounce of what humanity was still in me to keep myself from ripping Mr. Sullner’s throat out when he would bring me reading material or make one of his daily visits. He rarely stepped over the threshold of my cell the first week, but that would not have stopped me if my willpower were less – or if he had not provided me with victims every day.

I still remember my first victim. Peggy Frost. A streetwalker that would not be missed. She had dyed blond hair cut in a bob and wore a tight satin dress that swished when she walked into my lair. I was still chained. She asked why. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I’m dangerous,” I told her.

Peggy foolishly smiled at me and sat down on the bed next to me. She smelled of cheap perfume and cigars. But there was another smell – sweet and revitalizing – that appealed to me and made my throat burn with thirst. My mouth tasted like it was full of pennies when she leaned toward me in a provocative way.

“You don’t look dangerous,” she said, and I grinned. “You got a name?”

I am not sure why I lied to her about my name. I had not yet seen my obituary in the weekly paper at that time. Nevertheless, I told her my name was Ben.

“I’m Peggy,” she told me scooting closer. “But you can call me whatever you want.”

Peggy leaned over to kiss me. I turned my mouth away from her. She laughed playfully and put her slender arms around my neck.

“It’s okay, Ben,” she said the name as if she disbelieved its authenticity. “I don’t bite.”

I put my face close to hers. Her aroma was enticing me in a way no humanly food ever had. Peggy was beautiful and I could have loved her in life. Yet all she was to me now was a carrier for what I craved. The irony was not lost on me and I allowed myself a minute to feel sad for her. Then I remembered I was a predator and my new instincts took over.

“I do,” I said before sinking my incredibly sharp teeth into her neck.

Peggy made only a shocked moan as her warm life essence filled my mouth. I drink until the gush turned to a trickle and Peggy fell slack in my arms. I pulled back with her blood on my lips. I felt a drop ooze down my chin and wiped it away.

I looked around with remarkably clear vision. My senses were assaulted by sights, sounds, smells, and feelings. I had never felt more alive.

I looked down at Peggy’s slight form crumpled in my lap. I could hear the slow, quiet efforts of her heart giving up.

ba-bomp.......ba-bomp.....ba-b-

I heard it no more.

I still remember the way she smelled, the way she looked, the way she moved, and the way she tasted. She was my first kill.

I will never forget Peggy Frost.

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