It Hurts Being a Vampire

Meadowod Apartments at Norfolk, Virginia

5:30 am

N arrives back to his apartment with no one noticing him. His room is completely dark, but he likes it when it’s pitch black. Plus his vampire eyes can see clearly in the dark. He lays down on his bed, trying to relax and heal the pain. The bullet wounds are effecting his body badly, leaving him with the worst agony he has been in for a long time. To not think about the pain, he contemplates on his life and the incident that happened.


I’ve made it back to my apartment. I only have 30 minutes left until the sun rises.

Thankfully, I am far away from Albemarle County. It was a struggle for me to get out of that area, especially since I am experiencing the worst pain I’ve felt in three decades. Those bullets pierced me real good; slicing my body apart like slaughtered animals. I am shocked that thirteen bullets came flying at me. If I was a mortal, I would have been dead by the second bullet.

I should be joyful that I am not a mortal, but it is a struggle being immortal. People always fantasize and romanticize about being a vampire; thinking that it’s beautiful, awesome, or life changing to become one. Being a vampire is so excruciating; having to eat meat and suck blood all the time, only waking up during night times, not being able to go near churches or be faithful, and always transforming into a grotesque creature.

It hurts transforming into a horrific beast. It feels like I’m experiencing a seizure; my body contorts, my mouth feels like it’s ripping apart, my eyes burn with fire, my fingernails expand beyond belief, my dark skin gets darker, and my scars are more noticeable. Anytime I growl or roar, I’m crying for this pain to stop torturing me.

What makes it worse is that my tongue is cut in half. It’s hard for me to eat or to talk without sometimes sounding incoherent.

It wouldn’t have been like this if that police officer did not kill my family, burned my house, and ruined my life. I don’t remember what exact age I was when it happened, but I was a little boy when it took place.

Honestly, I don’t really remember too much of my earlier life. I don’t remember where exactly I came from or what culture I celebrate. I don’t remember if I was born a vampire or got turned into one. I don’t remember too much about my family. The only memory I have of them is the incident and the jewelry they wore before they died. I always wore the red and gold colored diamond necklace that my mom used to wear all the time. I also wear my parent’s wedding rings on both of my ring fingers. The gold ring belonged to my dad and the diamond belonged to my mom. This is the only way for me to keep their existence preserved.

But what bothers me the most is that I can’t seem to remember the identity of the police officer who’d caused the incident. The only description I remember is that he is a caucasian policeman. I don’t know what facial features he had or how he sounded like or what his name is.

However, I do remember him telling me what my name is. He said, my name is “N”. For the longest I’ve tried to understand what N stood for, but I never was able to figure it out. So I stuck with it and referred to myself as N.

[Grunts in pain]

These bullet wounds are doing a lot of damage to my dead body. Those two police officers from Albemarle Country really did put up a fight against me. The one who shot me was the worst. He couldn’t stop sucking his penis and saying all this rubbish. I wanted to laugh at how pathetic he was; insulting, harassing, and killing me because of my skin color. He had the audacity to say that he was not racist.

[Eye rolls and groans]

I’m glad that I’d devoured him, because he did not deserve to live for much longer.

As for the chubby ginger guy, I do feel bad for brutally killing him. He did actually seem like he cared about me and African Americans. Also his partner was bullying him, constantly calling him “Ginger”. But there were reasons why I had to kill him.

The biggest reason is that he stood there, allowing his partner to harass and shoot me. Those are the scummiest police officers that I cannot stand. They obviously see a fellow police officer abusing their power and causing unnecessary harm to others. But they choose to do nothing and not stop the problem. I’ve witnessed, studied, and dealt with numerous amounts of these officers. He was no better than his partner or any of those people.

Also this is not the first time he has been in a situation like this. I read and follow all the cases and reports of police officers who’ve got off scot-free from a police brutality offense they’d committed or was involved in. The ginger guy is not so innocent. He has worked with plenty of racist policemen and got involved in six police brutality cases. He did not kill anybody in those incidents, but he just stood there and watched innocent black people getting murdered. Not once did he report these crimes to anyone, he didn’t even take responsibility of his own selfishness and cowardliness. Deep down, he probably did care about African Americans. But knowing that he had been through this seven times now, I’m not losing any sleep because of him.

I could have turned him into a vampire, but what’s the point of giving him such a sacred and powerful way of living life. Even if I did turn him into a vampire, he would have gotten his revenge and tried to kill me. So I did not want to risk that chance.

Sunlight is seen piercing through the room.

The sun is almost rising and I only have fifteen minutes left. I get up from my bed and grab my coffin, which I hid it in the closet. Before I put myself inside and go to sleep, I need to remove these bullets. Since I can’t use a mirror to check where the bullets are, I use my long and pointy fingers to find the holes. After I’ve found them, I pierced my body and removed every single one. I tried my hardest not to screech, so that I won’t alarm the whole apartment building. Thankfully, I got all of the bullets out before I hollered like a banshee.

I pick up all the bullets and flush them into the toilet. I clean up any blood stain that remains. I remove my clothes and take a quick shower, so that I may wash off all the blood and stench.

After I get done washing and drying myself, I get inside my coffin to sleep. I sleep naked; wearing clothes while sleeping in a coffin is so uncomfortable. It brings more unnecessary heat and it doesn’t allow my body to fully heal.

I lay down to get comfortable. I check the time and it is 5:59 am. I close the coffin and rested, awaiting for the night to wake me up.

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