Wrapped tightly in layers of clothing, she hid in the shadows, trembling like an addict, her gaze sweeping hungrily over the passersby.
She swallowed greedily, but the morals and rationality of a medical student were waging war within her mind. Become a monster like a vampire, or starve to death. The choice seemed impossible.
She crouched on the street corner when her opportunity finally came. A young man, mistaking her for homeless, placed a bill in front of her with genuine concern.
"Wait!" Seeing him about to leave, her desperate hunger overcame reason as she called out in a pleading tone, "Sir, could you help me?"
The man stopped and offered a kind smile that seemed to radiate warmth.
This must be a gentle person, Martha thought to herself. To make such a person her prey? Her greedy gaze fell on the man's exposed neck, and she felt her fangs ache with need.
"Take me home," she said, staring at him with hopeful, desperate eyes.
As she'd hoped, he nodded without hesitation. Indeed, a gentle soul.
She began to feign injury, limping slightly. As a medical student, she knew exactly which movements indicated a leg injury, so she was confident her act wouldn't be discovered. His tender care for her only deepened Martha's internal conflict.
The closer they got to her apartment, the more Martha battled between ravenous hunger and her remaining humanity.
"Did you bring your keys?" his voice asked, snapping her back to reality.
Looking at her front door, she realized she just needed to get him inside, and he would be completely at her mercy. Martha gripped the keys in her pocket, the afternoon sun making her skin burn even through the thick sunscreen.
"I think I forgot them," Martha forced an ugly smile, "I'll just wait here."
She still couldn't bring herself to betray everything she'd learned about compassion and healing.
"You don't look well," he said with genuine concern.
Martha endured the discomfort, saying, "Low blood sugar. I just need to wait a moment."
"Let me help you open the door."
Before Martha could dismiss him again, she watched in stunned silence as the previously locked door suddenly swung open on its own. She was certain she'd locked it—she always did. The open doorway yawned before them like a black hole of temptation, and a voice whispered in Martha's mind: See? Even fate wants him to become your food.
Was it really divine will?
Driven by bloodthirsty desire, Martha allowed herself to be led inside. The pain from the sunlight seemed to fade as she focused on her prey.
"Let me pour you some water," she said, not waiting for an answer and forgetting entirely to maintain her injured act.
She filled a glass, then retrieved a bottle from her medicine cabinet, crushing several sleeping pills and stirring them into the water. Even if she had to drink blood, doing so while the person was conscious would be too cruel—she retained that much of her humanity.
Holding the doctored glass, she managed a pale smile. "Have some water."
The man accepted the glass and, under Martha's intense gaze, drained it in one gulp. His complete lack of wariness only reinforced her perception of his gentle, trusting nature. She clenched her fists, nails digging crescents into her palms.
She didn't want to become a monster, but the bloodthirsty compulsion was overwhelming her will.
Minutes ticked by, and her anticipation gradually turned to confusion. She'd used enough sleeping medication to fell a horse, yet the man before her showed no signs of drowsiness whatsoever. A pair of reddish-brown eyes continued to study her with an expression that suggested he was observing some fascinating specimen.
"You... don't you want to sleep?" Martha's brain short-circuited as she asked the question.
He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Fall asleep so you can have your feast?"
Martha nodded reflexively, then her eyes widened in horror as his words registered. What had he just said? Her vampire identity had been completely exposed.
Screaming, her fangs extended fully as she spun toward the door. It slammed shut with supernatural force. Then every curtain in the apartment—curtains she'd carefully arranged to block all sunlight—suddenly flew open.
The house had excellent natural lighting, something Martha had loved when she first moved in. Now she was reaping what she'd sown. Brilliant sunlight poured through every window, and she screamed as it touched her skin. The sunscreen on her hands had rubbed off while preparing the water, and the scorching rays immediately began burning her flesh, sending up wisps of white smoke.
The more she struggled, the more smoke rose from her body. Just as she was about to be reduced to charcoal, the curtains snapped closed again.
She collapsed on the floor, curling into a ball, eyes wide with terror as she stared at the man who hadn't moved from his chair once throughout the entire ordeal. He still wore that same smile, but now Martha understood its true nature.
It was the condescending smile of a predator toward helpless prey. From beginning to end, she had been the one being hunted.
"Now then," he said pleasantly, "let's have a proper conversation, Miss Vampire."
Martha's impression of John had undergone a complete transformation. Where once she'd seen gentleness, consideration, and gentlemanly behavior, now she saw something terrifying, demonic, and utterly beyond her understanding.
She trembled, bearing the lingering pain of the sun burning her, unable to meet his gaze.
"Please," she begged, "spare me. This is my first time—I've never done this before." Tears streamed down her face as the will to survive overwhelmed her hunger.
Martha poured out her entire tragic story. She'd finally met a quality man at a university party, thinking she might end her perpetual single status, only to have him bite her without warning, shattering all her romantic fantasies. Not only had she failed to find love, but she'd returned home transformed into the very thing she'd only read about in horror stories.
She'd endured the hunger for days, nearly starving herself to death rather than hurt anyone, only succumbing to temptation in her weakest moment.
"I really haven't taken a single drop," she sobbed. "I couldn't bring myself to do it."
After listening to her story, John raised his hand, signaling for her to stop crying. He approached and, under her terrified gaze, gently cupped her tear-stained face.
"What's your name?" he asked with surprising kindness.
"Martha Latti," she whispered.
John paused, an odd expression crossing his features. That's quite the name you've chosen.
"Martha," he said softly, his thumb brushing away her tears, "listen to me carefully. I'm not going to kill you."
She quieted, hardly daring to believe it.
"I can see you have a kind heart," John continued gently. "Outside that door, you overcame your bloodthirst. That took real strength."
Martha lowered her head shyly, a flush of pride warming her despite everything.
"I need you to help me with something," John said, his deep eyes meeting hers. "The person who turned you into a vampire—where can I find him?"
"You mean Hume?" Martha hesitated. "I met him at a party. He's always there—quite popular at our university."
"You don't want to remain a vampire, do you?" John asked.
Martha shook her head sadly. If there was any way to undo this curse, she would take it without hesitation.
John reached into his pocket and withdrew a crystal pendant containing a single drop of blood, sealed within the clear stone. The pendant pulsed with subtle magical energy, designed specifically to suppress vampiric curses.
He placed the chain around Martha's neck. The moment the crystal touched her skin, she felt the overwhelming hunger and bloodlust that had been consuming her suddenly diminish to manageable levels. Though still present, the compulsion no longer felt like it would drive her to madness.
Her face lit up with joy and relief—the first genuine happiness she'd felt since her transformation.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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