My Angel

Written by Matthew Shute

PART 1

I threw Angel onto the bed and tore off her blouse with both hands to expose a pearly white bra. My good friend Curt yanked off her skirt to reveal a set of nice clean panties underneath it.

Jesus, what a body! Angel was like my every porno fantasy come true. We'd known how attractive she was beforehand, having stalked her for three weeks, but up close and in the flesh she was simply out of this world.

Lust gave me strength and speed. Sweating, I ripped off her bra and panties, leaving her naked as the day she was born.

She was no baby, though; she was all woman. I reached down and squeezed one of her breasts with one hand while the other hand went to work on my clothes- tearing them off, in other words.

She looked up at us. Her eyes glimmered with traces of fear.

And I looked back. I studied her face and body as I might scrutinize a divine work of art. I'd never seen anything quite so perfect in all my life.

Naked at last, I got astride her, and went to work.

Curt went into his standard drawl of obscenities.

"Ah, fuckin' yeah baby," He was saying. "That's it, you gorgeous little whore. You're our bitch now, girlie. You like it? You like it or what?"

She did seem to like it (unless she was pretending) but part of me wanted to smack Curt in the mouth for calling her a whore. She was something special. Curt just had no appreciation of beauty. I was too caught up in my own pleasure to say anything, but I glared at the side of his head for a moment.

He was concentrating on Angel's welcoming mouth, and didn't appear to notice.

Then something happened that surprised me. Maybe this whole erotic act was too much for Angel, because she suddenly started to struggle. I grabbed those slim wrists of hers and pinned her to the mattress. She seemed to be trying to say something, but nothing came out except a muffled moan.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, slut," Curt sighed. "Concentrate on what you're doing."

Again, I glared at Curt. He didn't acknowledge the sour look I threw his way, so I returned my attention to Angel.

I was still pinning her down by those delicate wrists, leaving my hands out of action, but I continued to work on those sensitive nipples of hers with the tip of my tongue and my lips. I like to give as well as take. Angel must have been feeling pretty fine herself.

Surely, she must.

A speck of doubt twitched in some far corner of my mind. Doubt or guilt... or both. It was brief but unpleasant.

This had always been about mine and Curt's pleasure, not Angel's. That's how me and Curt had planned it. She was just the vessel for our pleasure. Selfish perhaps, but that's just the way we always worked. Angel was ours. She was going to receive the pumping of her life, whether she wanted to or not. I suppose you could have called it rape if she wasn't enjoying it so much.

And she was... wasn't she?

Yeah; those moans were the sounds of indulgent enjoyment, there could be no mistaking that. All the women we'd played with had enjoyed themselves, even those who pretended otherwise. Deep down, all women desire to be dominated and taken by force.

Angel was no different.

Surely.

Except... sometimes I wonder.

Sometimes, a disturbing thought occurs to me.

It could all be an act. Women are devious creatures. They like to tease and manipulate men to get what they want. They play games to get their own way. There's no way of really knowing if a woman is being honest.

Was Angel pretending to enjoy my -our- attentions, just to save herself from a beating?

I had no way of knowing.

She appeared serene, now, as if she'd fully accepted this extreme situation. A wise choice, I thought. I admired her for that.

Even though she'd stopped struggling, I held her anyway. Holding her down, having such a beautiful girl in my power, was a real turn-on. I guess if she had decided to resist (or pretended to), it would have turned me on all the more.

Rape?

Part of me felt awful about it. That seed of doubt or guilt was beginning to grow.

Doubt; I hated myself for such weakness. It's the kind of emotion my father would've beaten out of me if he had been still alive. I just hoped the seed wouldn't sprout before I got the most out of this angel under me.

I glanced at Curt. He looked like he could no longer contain himself.

Suddenly, as if to confirm my observation, he did let go, drained himself all over Angel's lips, chin and neck with a loud groan. Some of his spunk dribbled down onto her chest, and settled in small, thick puddles.

She smiled up at him, almost gratefully (pretense?), and swallowed some of the cum that had found her lips and tongue. Jeez, that smile lit up her beautiful face and nearly took me over the edge at the same time. It melted a lot of my suspicions away in an instant.

Not all of them, but most.

Regardless, I was about ready to vent. I held back, waiting for the penultimate moment.

"How's that for a pearl-necklace, baby?" Curt chuckled, touching her dark brown hair.

She licked up more of the spunk, globs of seamen still glistening near her mouth and bottom lip. That brought me even closer to the threshold.

Too much nastiness and sweetness in this drawn-out moment... I knew I could not hold on much longer.

"Look at me, Angel," I told her. "I want to look into your eyes as I come."

I released my grip on her, and moved my hands over her perfect breasts once more. They were slick with perspiration and felt springy to the touch. Her nipples stood to attention. Her angelic face turned to me, Curt's spunk catching the light and glistening around her cheeks and neck as she did. I looked deep into her crystal-clear, dark blue eyes, and she looked back into my hazel ones.

It felt like some part of us connected, locked together for a moment, and invisible sparks passed between us. The intensity of it overwhelmed me.

As I had expected the moment was utterly mind-blowing. Then I came and my mind really exploded.

"Ahh," I moaned as I flooded inside her.

Curt grinned, spoiling the moment somewhat.

"Ahhhhhh," I moaned.

Heaven. We all just stayed still for a while after that. I breathed, relaxed. Angel sighed and caught my gaze again. I caught something in her eyes that couldn't quite define at first. I decided that it must be the look of love. Women had always been unable to resist me, and many of them developed obsessions about me. Now Angel had fallen in love with me, too.

This was amazing. Curt and I had come here with the sole intention of taking advantage of this woman, to do it by force if necessary. Now I felt like I would gladly give my life to protect her. After only one quick fuck, a large part of me couldn't stand the idea of never seeing her again... which would almost certainly be the case after what had happened. My emotions were thrown into turmoil.

I held eye-contact for a moment or two, thinking what a selfish waste this had been. It shouldn't have been solely about Curt's and my lust for a few cheap thrills. Not to say that Angel was in any way cheap; far from it. She was... an angel. I knew that now. And here we were treating her like some worthless object for our own gratification. I was glad that we had experienced what we had, but I kind of wished it had been under different circumstances.

Maybe it would've been different if Curt hadn't come along.

Unlike myself, Curt was not the romantic type. He was a good friend, sure, but he was smelly and not very good with women. In fact, I'm pretty sure that he was personally to blame for all those occasions where a lady's enjoyment of the sex was questionable...

A pang of regret reverberated through my heart like a stricken harp-string. If only I'd romanced Angel the traditional way, maybe there would've been a chance for us.

Oh well.

At last, I made a move towards my heap of discarded clothes, near the foot of the bed.

Then the violence started.

It was Curt who started it all off. He suddenly started slapping Angel about the face and head for apparently no reason at all. To my amazement, he then clenched a meaty fist and drew it back for a really hard punch. Just as he launched the blow, I lunged forward and caught his fist in my hand before it could hit her full in the face.

Curt threw me a demented glance, all wide eyes. "Let go of me, you fucking rent-boy."

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded.

"The slut," he replied looking back down at the subject of his bewildering rage. Angel. "She sent some voices into my head, trying to influence my thoughts!"

"Curt, what the hell are you talking about?"

Then he hit me. Full force.

The blow was fierce enough to send me staggering backwards. I knew I'd have a nice bruise to show for that in the morning. Yet I was more astonished than hurt. Just what in the name of God was going on in Curt's head?

"Don't you fucking protect her," Curt screamed at me. "I know what you couple of bastards are trying to pull here. It's not gonna work!"

Angel sat up, naked, slimy and beautiful. "What's he talking about? What have we done?"

Instead of giving an answer, Curt raised his fist as he prepared to deliver that punch I had saved Angel from a moment ago. The madness was still evident in his face. His cheeks were flushed and his otherwise murky eyes blazed with clear, hot fury.

I ran forward and launched myself into his mid-region, in a rugby-tackle kind of motion, my head hitting him squarely in the stomach. His swing went wide of Angel's cringing face, smacking nothing but air. Curt sprawled backwards onto the gray carpet, me on top of him. He screamed, more in frustration than pain, I guessed, and his arms flailed around as we lay in a heap.

Angel was up and off the bed in seconds, standing above us and trying to separate our tangle of limbs.

Curt bit my face.

"AAAAAGGGGHHHH!" I shouted.

As his teeth sank into my left cheek, a flare of white-hot agony ripped through my whole face. He bit deeper still, clenching his jaws as hard as he could. The white flame within my wound became a supernova of pain for a second, and then began to fade. The left side of my face pulsed, warm and numb.

In counterattack, I jabbed viciously at his open eyes with a pair of extended fingers. He gasped, releasing my face, his watery eyes becoming two crumpled slits of misery.

Some deep animal instinct came over me, then. Without even thinking about it, I leaned forward, bit him, and literally tore off his nose with my teeth.

Swift and simple.

Curt began to scream. Blood jetted from his facial wound in a series of thin squirts. I pushed myself up off him and stood up, spiting his large, pimply nose out of my mouth in utter disgust.

"Bite me, huh?", I said looking down at him where he lay grasping his disfigured face with two sweaty hands. "That'll teach you to bite holes in me, you stupid fucking maniac."

I felt nothing but loathing for my old friend, now. The piece of shit had probably scarred my beautiful face for life. And for what? Just whatever idiotic, irrational jealousy and psychosis that had gripped his contemptible little brain.

Through his wails, Curt was moaning, "Bastard. Slut. Pair of cunts. Queer! Traitor! Scheming couple of bastard-maggots! You'll both pay dearly for this, you mark my words. Plotting, scheming cunts!"

Total, raving nonsense. The man had flipped his lid.

"FUCKERS!" he screeched. "COCK-EATERS! CUNTS!"

I silenced him by kicking him hard in the guts. My feet were bare, but the blow was sufficient to knock all the wind out of him and leave him gasping and heaving.

Angel glanced at me and said, "Oh my god! Look at your face! What did he do to you?"

Her voice sounded insincere, but I couldn't tell for sure. Women are such devious little bitches.

She began to touch my wounded face with her slender fingers, tracing the twin row of teeth marks where Curt had savaged my cheek. It was starting to really sting now. It was the same spot where Curt had brutally punched me, at the start of this excursion into insanity.

Blood dripped from my face, onto my bare feet.

"It'll heal," I said, trying to feign indifference. "Curt came off far worse than I did." I indicated his severed nose lying at the side of the king-sized bed.

At first she looked shocked, horrified even. Then her face quickly changed.

"I'm glad you did it," she assured. "You were just trying to defend me from that animal."

Below, Curt wheezed, "I thought you were my friend."

"Yeah," I agreed. "And I thought you were mine."

At that, Curt grabbed my ankle and sank his teeth into it with all his might.

I screamed in distress and went down again with a thump, this time landing on my side. I suppose the shock of the sudden pain made me I lose my balance.

Angel ran to my aid, booting Curt full in the face where his nose had once sat proud. He squealed like a girl and loosed my leg. Blood ran freely from my wounds and his. That sure was some bite he'd given me. I didn't know if he'd shattered the anklebone but it certainly felt like it.

Gaining strength from my pain, I booted Curt in the balls with the tough heal of my good foot.

He wailed in torment.

Angel began raining blows upon him, and continued kicking him in the abdomen and ribs for all she was worth. He was weeping like a baby now, and I knew just how he felt. I felt dizzy, but managed to stagger to my feet. My ankle and face throbbing fiercely.

I half-wondered if I'd walk with a limp for the rest of my life. The other half of me was praying that I wouldn't get infected wounds from Curt's saliva; people have died from such things before now.

Though pained, I put in an effort to help Angel. With one hand against the wall for support, I joined in with the kicking of Curt's cowering frame, using only the leg without the agonizing injury to kick. I took care of the area around his legs and groin while Angel worked on his face and upper body.

I could only kick. Angel did more. In addition to kicking him in the chest and face, she supplemented her assault by using her sharp nails to gouge his flesh. She also threw a lot of impressive punches.

She was wild.

Steadily, I was falling in love.

Lacerated and bruised, Curt thrashed around and squirmed furiously, trying to get into a standing position. His struggle was frenzied but futile; we easily had the measure of him. Eventually he gave up, just lay there and took it.

Twenty minutes or so later, Angel stopped. Her naked body was even more sweaty now.

"Do you think he's dead?" she asked.

I, too, stopped kicking the bloody mess at my feet. "I don't know. Is he still breathing?"

Angel leaned over him, put her ear over his mouth, her hand on his chest.

"No," she said. "He's not."

"Pulse?"

Angel took his pulse. "No."

I scratched my head. "Then I guess he must be dead."

A heavy silence took over. Silence, save for our breathing. Angel's chest rose and fell. Rose and fell. Rose and fell. If she were a sculpture, she would be the greatest masterpiece to grace any gallery anywhere in the world. I wished I had a video camera so that I could capture the moment forever, make the image immortal. The world deserved to share such beauty.

No woman had ever effected me as deeply as this. I felt feverish. I shuddered.

Breaking the silence, Angel spoke: "You know what this means, right?"

I nodded. "We've killed him."

"Not just killed. This is murder. We've murdered him."

"He attacked us."

"Yes," she said. "But then we beat him into a pulp. And then we beat him some more. Just look at him. You can hardly tell he was once human."

"I'll take the blame for you if I have to. I'm willing to do it."

"No. That wouldn't be fair. I beat him worse than you did."

"I know. But if it comes to it... I'll take the blame."

"You don't have to."

"I do," I said. "I feel like a piece of shit. We came here to rape you. Do you realize that? This was rape. How can you even forgive me?"

"You didn't rape me. Only your friend Curt did anything like rape, because I didn't want him to even come anywhere near me. He disgusted me. You, on the other hand... I wanted you to do what you were doing."

There was a bell-clear ring of insincerity to her voice, but I didn't want to pay any attention to it. The words were too compelling.

"Really?" I said. "I thought you might've been putting it on, so that we'd go away quicker."

"I wanted Curt to go away. Not you. This is going to sound very strange, but I think...-"

"I love you," I finished for her.

There was a profound silence as we both tried to let that sink in.

Then we kissed. It seemed to go on forever. I felt like I was falling into her. It was a strange sensation.

A while later, Angel said, "What do you suggest we do about your dead friend?"

I shrugged. "What do you suggest?"

"We're going to have to get rid of him."

"That's fine by me."

"Ever disposed of a body before?" she inquired calmly, as if asking if I knew how to ride a bike.

"Me? Never."

"Okay," she said. "First we've got to chop him up. We'll need trash bags, newspapers for the floor, and some cutting instruments. Oh, and a hammer for the teeth. Dental records can lead to easy identification. We don't want that, now do we?"

"I guess not."

"Also, we'd better take care of your wounds before they get infected and you die on us. I don't want two corpses to get rid of."


...


PART 2

The relationship, despite my best expectations, went downhill after that wonderful evening.

The rot first started to set in when Angel decided that I should do all the work.

Her whole attitude towards me seemed to change.

I had to cut the body up, I had to pull the teeth out with pliers and smash the skull up, I had to sort all the body parts into separate bags, I had to dig the hole, I had to fill it back in again... Angel wouldn't lift a finger to help!

"I'm here to organize," she told me, looking up from a well-thumbed copy of Dracula. "You can do all the manual work. Remember who the amateur is, here."

"Goddammit..." I muttered. I was beginning to get sick of it.

"What's that? Do I hear you complaining? If you don't want to listen to my expertise, you're on your own. See how long you stay out of prison, then."

"Hey," I said. "Forget about it. If you're too lazy to help, I'll take care of everything requiring the slightest effort. You sit there and enjoy your paperback. Just forget about it, okay?"

She laughed. "Already forgotten, buddy."

Her attitude that night pissed me off, but I left it at that.



...



Next day, I woke to a bright summer morning. I still felt exhausted after the unpleasant activities of the night before. I was sitting in a comfortable easy-chair in Angel's garden. She sat next to me, drinking some red wine.

She was an early drinker, by the looks of things. I wouldn't have been surprised to find that she was an alcholic, although perhaps she was drinking to forget the grisly business of the previous evening.

Propped up against the wall of the house was the shovel I'd used to dig Curt's grave. It was still blood-splattered, and it showed traces of human flesh and skin. I tried to forget about it, but my eyes kept being drawn towards the horrible thing every now and then. Fucking creepy. I'd have to clean it off whenever I next got a chance.

I was in somewhat a sullen mood that morning. Not only did I feel tired, resentful and annoyed by Angel's lack of enthusiasm over the corpse-disposal, I was also suffering from a bad case of the sneezes, brought on by my hayfever. My eyes itched terribly, and were getting worse by the minute. If I kept on rubbing them, I knew they would only get sorer and sorer.

"Angel," I said. "Do you have any eye-drops around the house?"

After a red sip, she said, "Err... yeah, I think so."

I threw her a sarcastic glance. "Would it be too much trouble for you to go and fetch me some?"

She sighed. "Yep. Whatever you say, darling."

At least she was being more civil, now.

Unless she had meant that as sarcasm...

Deceitful bitches; you never know where you stand with them.

Angel stood up and walked into the house.

I sneezed and rubbed my eyes. Fucking hayfever of all things. I shook my head in disgust.

After a while, I began thinking about Curt... with a touch of regret. What exactly had led to such a catastrophe two nights ago? How could things have gone so wrong? Exactly what the had caused Curt to flip-out on me like that? He'd mentioned something about voices; something about Angel sending them into his head to manipulate his thoughts. It was something a true psychotic would say. The change in Curt had been so sudden that it almost defied belief. How could a person suddenly break down mentally like that, in the space of a few seconds?

I was baffled. No answer seemed to present itself.

Sighing, I went into a daydream, thinking back over all the things he and I had done together. The arson-attacks. The robberies. All the women we'd stalked. It was kind of a mellow trip to lean back and reminisce about all those good times.

I had to admit... I would miss him.

It was a shame, a damn shame.

Still, I suppose he brought it all upon himself. What are you supposed to do when somebody goes crazy on you like that...? He'd flipped, pure and simple. Who knows what would've happened if we'd allowed him to live. If nothing else, the lunatic had deserved death for messing my face up that way... I...-

Suddenly, I snapped back into reality.

What was Angel doing in there? She'd been in the house for what must have been ten minutes.

"Angel!" I called.

No reply.

Shaking my head, I stood and walked towards the house. I reached the back door and opened it. I stepped inside. Angel was in the kitchen, standing over the sink. She turned around as soon as I walked in. She looked slightly flustered.

"Hey," she said. "I've found you some eye-drops."

"What took so long?"

"Oh, I just had some trouble finding them. Here." She passed the eye-drops over.

"Thanks. What is this stuff?"

Angel followed me back into the garden. "It's just a soothing solution. Supposedly, it reduces the effect of irritants."

"Oh. Okay."

I reached my chair, and sat down.

Angel picked up the gory shovel. "We'll need to clean this," she said, examining it.

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's been giving me the creeps all morning."

Angel nodded.

I leaned back, and held the eyedropper above my naked eye. I squeezed gently on the plunger. A greenish liquid formed at the tip. The droplet grew and grew. It started to droop. Finally, it dripped into my eye and landed with a small plop.

AGONY!

Upon contact, the solution hissed, and fumes rose from my eye-socket as the stuff burned through my eye.

I screamed: "SHIT! MY FUCKIN' EYE!"

Not exactly Shakespear, but I think you'll understand I had a good excuse for my lack of eloquence.

I heard Angel laughing as I squinted and frantically tried to rub the stuff out of my eye. It was too late, of course. The stuff had already eaten into my eyeball, dissolved most of it. I'd be blind in that eye for the rest of my life.

More disfigurement; life is so unfair.

"What have you put in this, you fucking bitch?!?" I screamed.

"Acid," she told me.

I stood up and made towards her. I fully intended to choke the life out of her as I smashed her head repeatedly against the patio floor.

Angel was already standing, gripping the bloody shovel in both hands. As I reached her, she swung. The head of the shovel crashed into my skull. I went down, the vision in my remaining eye becoming dark and blurred.

"No!" I shouted. "Please do-"

Too late. She brought the shovel crashing down onto my head with all the force she could muster.

Everything went black.



...



Some time later, I awoke in a very dark place. I was lying on some kind of wooden surface. There was wood at each side of me, enclosing me. Above was a clear night sky. The stars and moon stood out brightly in all their cosmic glory. The spaces between them were as black as ash.

I tried to get up. For some reason, I couldn't.

Then Angel's face moved into view directly above me, coming on from a sideways angle.

"Ah," she said. "You're awake at last."

"Whe... where am I?"

She smiled sweetly. "In a coffin."

"Huh?!?"

Looking around me, I realized with great alarm that a coffin was exactly where I was. An open coffin. Looking more closely, I could now even make out the freshly dug earth that extended beyond the edges of the wooden death-box.

I was in a grave!

Again, I tried to get up. Frantically.

Angel laughed as if my struggles were the funniest things she'd ever witnessed.

Getting a grip on herself, she said, "It's no use. Just look at yourself."

So I did exactly that.

With total horror, I realized why I'd been unable to get up:

My arms and legs were missing.

There were fleshy stumps at the points where my limbs had been severed.

Looking down into my face, the terrible, beautiful woman above me said, "Don't worry. You didn't lose too much blood. I made a great job of cauterizing your bleeding flesh."

"You bitch!"

"That's no way to talk to your lover," she said.

"What?"

"Do you want to fuck me one more time, before your slow death begins?"

I couldn't believe it. This woman was crazier than Curt, by far.

Women.

"Err... yeah, okay."

Perhaps if I lured her into the coffin, I'd be able to bite her. After what she'd done, the idea of ripping her throat out and taking her with me was a very appealing idea.

Even if I somehow survived this encounter, I'd be a total cripple for the rest of my days. How could she...?

Angel lowered herself into the coffin.

"No biting," she said.

We were both naked. In some ways, this was just like the first time, minus Curt and minus three or four human limbs.

"Look at you," Angel said. "Your cheek munched and savaged by your so-called friend, and one empty eye-socket. You're a wreck."

"Turned on by disfigurement, are you?" I asked, trying to get a rise out of her.

But she just said, "Yeah, I suppose I am."

Angel began to fondle me. Soon, I was hard in her hands. She lowered herself onto me, and moaned with pleasure. Up and down, she began to quicken pace. As she rode my cock, she squeezed those perfect breasts.

It was too good, despite the strange circumstances.

Too soon, it was all over.

Angel grinned...

...displaying four great fangs, where her ordinary canines had once been.

What the hell. Could this situation get any weirder?

"V... vampire?" I asked.

"That's right." Her eyes glowed lustfully as she looked down upon my hopeless carcass.

She loomed over me, reached my neck with her mouth, and sunk her fangs into the flesh. It was painful, but also hideously pleasurable in a way. There was a sucking sensation, and I felt the blood being siphoned from the veins in my neck, to be replaced by whatever vampiric substance flowed within Angel.

Then she kissed me one final time, her bloody lips against mine.

Finished with her work, she climbed from the coffin.

"I'll be back for you," she said. "But you're going to have a long wait."

"W- Will I die here? Or am I...? Am I like you now?"

"You're undead, yes. You'll never be able to die. You'll starve. You'll know a craving for blood unlike any desire you have ever felt. Without this sustenance, you will wither until you are no more than a skeleton. But even then, you won't die."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "I mean, if you enjoyed the sex... why do this?"

"The sex? You were fun, but I've had better lovers. Anyway, you thought you could take what you wanted by force. It amused me to let you have your way, at first. But you grew tiresome, and I decided to teach you a lesson."

"Please, please don't do this to me. Not me. Anybody but me!"

"Hush," she said. "Nothing you say will get you out of this mess you created. I've seen inside your mind. You are sick and very stupid. You need to reconsider your attitudes and your arrogance. They're not befitting of a wretch such a yourself."

"PLEASE!" I sobbed, tears running down my face.

She shook her head.

After more useless begging, I asked, "When will you come back for me?"

"I don't know, yet. Months, years... even decades, perhaps. Well, it's time for your long wait to begin."

"NO!"

"Enjoy yourself. This can be a unique learning experience. A chance for reflection."

Those were her last words to me. She somehow ignored my deafening pleas for mercy. She placed the lid on my coffin, nailed it shut. Then she filled in my grave.

"NO!"

My world became never-ending darkness. This shallow grave, my home.



...



Since then, I've been lying here, waiting as my body wastes away. I'm not quite a living skeleton yet, but I'm getting there.

You could call this grave my final resting place, but I am not at rest. The desire for blood surges through my undead marrow. Angel was right; this craving for blood is a thirst like no other. I've waited so long that it seems as though not even an ocean of human blood could quench me.

I wait. I cringe. I wither inside. My mind spirals into madness. Sometimes, I pray for a death that will never come. More than anything, I pray for someone to come and open this coffin lid.

I entertain the fantasy of some poor, unsuspecting mortal happening upon this grave-site. My new vampire instinct tells me that, if I could overpower an adult of my size, it may be possible to regenerate my physical form to some extent. If I could chew off a person's limbs, and fix them onto me... if I sucked the marrow from the person, drank every drop of blood and ate the brain and spinal cord... maybe... maybe...

I don't know enough about vampires. Perhaps it is hopeless.

I have spent my days and nights carving this story onto the walls of the coffin with my sharp fangs. It's been difficult. The writing has gone slowly. Then again, time is something I have an abundance of. And writing this partially helps to keep my mind off the ravenous hunger and thirst that menaces my every nerve-ending.

It's impossible to tell if what I've written... what I've carved... if any of it is even readable. Not even my enhanced night-vision (in the one eye) can penetrate this featureless blackness. Not even a noturnal predator can see in ZERO light. My tomb is utterly sealed and lightless.

Will anyone be able to decipher these words when they're finally discovered? Well, I don't really care. I'm doing this more to occupy myself than anything else.

How long have I been here, in the dark?

There is no air, food or water; yet somehow I survive. I may have milenia to exist in this state. This immortality is surely the greatest torment possible...

If only someone would come. Surely, sooner or later, some fool will happen upon me. I'll rip their throats, eat their guts, rend their very proteins into something that I'll use to get out of here.

And when I get out of here... I will have my revenge. When I get out of here... I have a date with an angel; a date that I intend to keep.