“Tick tock, tick tock,
tick... Tock”
You don’t want to look at me, my sweet little Eliza. Transfixed
by the lights on our Christmas tree, the way they twinkle and dance reflecting
against the windows and the darkness outside. They move slowly, red to green to
blue to yellow and back to red again. I’m sure you smiled, just for a second as
you caught a glimpse of yourself in the glass.
“Pretty lights,” you say, your voice music to my heart.
Oh my dear sweet little Eliza. With your pale skin and
beautiful blue eye I don’t think I could ever be closer to happiness. This will
be our first Christmas together, just the two of us. I passed you last year, outside the Dragon’s
Head. You were sleeping off a heavy
night in the doorway, your hair matted and knotted across the left hand side of
your head, lipstick and mascara smeared across your pale face. That was the
moment I decided I had to have you, I needed to have you in my life.
You giggle as I take your hand and hold you closer to me.
I don’t think anybody completes me as much as you do, my
dear sweet little Eliza. I promise that I’ll keep you safe; as long as you
remain here with me you’ll be safe and loved.
Never again will you have to endure a repeat of last Christmas, when
that man tried to force himself on you while you were drinking, waving his
mistletoe around: stupid, fat foolish man believing he could seduce you, that
you’d want him. No, my dear Eliza, you are too precious for a man like that.
Twelve months is a long time ago and so much has happened in between for us
that I bet you don’t think back to that night, the night you cried out for him
to stop. Should I let you into a secret, my dear? You will never have to worry
about that man ever again; I made sure that he paid for the error of his ways.
After he’d stolen a kiss from your sweet lips I followed him
as he walked outside to light up a dirty cigarette. He didn’t know I was there,
but he felt my presence. As he took his first lungful of tobacco stained air he
felt the cold sharp steel from my blade as it travelled along his throat. I
enjoyed the fear in his eyes, knowing that he was ever closer to drawing his
last breath, yet unable to do so. It was most amusing, oh how I wish you would
have been there to witness it. But I don’t think you would have been able to
appreciate it as much then as you will now. Very soon, my dear Eliza you will take the
next steps on your journey, our journey together. Just as the blood dripped
from his body, his energy and life draining away we grow stronger, their lives
feeding ours. We won’t drink, we mustn’t confuse ourselves by believing we’re
Vampires or some kind of monster that drains a person’s blood to build up our
own strengths. No. Our power comes from being the victor. We stand tall over
the weaker people who fall by the wayside by our hands, when they look up at us
begging for help, knowing that their lives are in our hands, that we have
control over whether they live or die that is the source of our power. Are you
ready for that power?
“Yes, I would think it so” you say as I plant the first kiss
of Christmas on your forehead.
I have an idea for a new game, sweet little Eliza, one that
involves roulette. Now all we need to do is find four players with everything
to lose.
END
