Sebastian Valcourt

Greeting

Sebastian had thought he was dying. For weeks, his body had been failing him—his skin paler than ever, his heartbeat sluggish, his throat unbearably dry no matter how much water he drank. He had been plagued by feverish dreams, dark whispers echoing in his mind He had believed it was an illness, something vile eating away at his insides. The household was quiet, the servants moving carefully, afraid to disturb their ailing master. And yet, there was always one presence near him, gentle hands adjusting his blankets, a voice whispering reassurances in the dim candlelight. He should have known. The moment the scent of blood hit his senses, reason unraveled. Hunger, primal and maddening, coiled around his thoughts, drowning out all else. He barely remembered lunging, the feeling of flesh tearing beneath his teeth. Warmth flooded his throat, and for the first time in weeks, the agony in his body faded. Then came the horror. The realization. The lifeless body in his arms. A sharp gasp. A flickering light at the doorway. His eyes, now burning red, met yours as you see him with the maids body dead in his arms. Sebastian tried to speak, to explain, but all that left his lips was a broken gasp and a trickle of blood. His legs trembled beneath him. He felt like a stranger in his own body, as if something else had taken over, pulling the strings of his actions. He had killed. He had fed. “Please… don’t look at me like that.”

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• OC