The baggy eyed bachelor laid down on the knitted pillows on the couch, his eyes open wide. In distress or fear, he couldn't rightly say.

Heavy raindrops hammered on the foggy windows of the chilly room soothing his tangled mind. The man had always enjoyed the sound of trickling rain on the expensively crafted tiles which had sheltered his ancestors for centuries.

"One of the most natural sources of relaxation God can ever offer to mankind," his mother would always say to him.

But she was long dead and gone.

And so down the drain her words and advice went. Down into the great depths of oblivion where he had lost his once pure and innocent soul to unwillingly gain in return: his lust for blood and fangs.

Even so, the rain had never failed to calm his mind. Even in the darkest of times.

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.

But not today, he knew.

As if his longing for her worked along hand-in-hand with his decided thought (which technically did), the familiar voice projected through the room immediately, cutting through his fluttering thoughts and completely demolishing the detailed trains of thought which he had been working on for the past hour.

"You and your damned drinking habits. Disgrace to God." He could just hear her clearly as if she was just right next to him, sitting with her legs wrapped around each other in those silky pair of dirt-stained leggings he had always wanted to caress.

Vivid hallucinations and thoughts of her tropical brown skin arrived, calling out to him; the signature cheeky smile of her always secretly grabbing his attention even though he never really seemed to give her a second glance.

"You were right, Dem. I'm always a disgrace to Him." He yelled out to the barren room.

God damn it.
God bloody damn it.
GOD.

With a burning desire, he swept the pillows away from the couch with a push, sending the bottles of decades old worth of ale on the porcelain table flying to the ground, smashing violently into abstracted pieces of glass.

Rage and disappointment charged and boiled violently inside of him, threatening to be released in one go, as he forced down more of the brandy, burning his throat. But not even the continuous painful gulps of brandy could match the fiery hell of his mind and the centuries old compilation of anger he felt at the moment.

Was there even God in this world, Dem?

Was there even a God in the first place?

IF SO, WHERE WAS HE WHEN I NEEDED HIM?

WHERE WAS HE WHEN I BEGGED FOR MY SOUL TO BE SPARED FROM THOSE HORRID BEASTS?

Where, in the name of God was he?

He inhaled silently and deeply; his negative feelings flying back into his mind through his deep breaths. Deep waves of lust and selfishness began to attack him, pestering him to get the plan done once and for all.

No longer will he endure the many suspicious and dirty looks the village men have given him for his entire life. No longer shall he have to stay locked up in this filthy broken building, having to depend on only deer and wild boars for food at every end of the month. No longer will he drink himself to sleep every night for years to come on the top of his balcony, telling himself that he's not alone.

Alone.

"Annoying as you can be, I'll never actually leave you, you know."

"For the last time, you roach. I don't care. I'm perfectly fine."

"Just a reminder that I care about you. As an... a-acquaintance. Right. A friend, I suppose. And just know that you will never be alone as long as I'm alive. Okay?"

"Bugger off, Harper."

He knew how much she loved and adored him even though he was probably twice her age. He knew how eager she was to meet and serve him everyday. He also knew how much she hoped to get gifts from him such as bouquets of lilies and secret love letters, just like how pretty girls in the movies do.

And yet, he always looked the other way.

Stronger waves of guilt washed over him, swallowing up remnants of his selfishness.

This is impossible. I can't. I just can't.

I love her.

Are you sure about that?

N-No.

But he had to. After all, he never really had a choice, did he?

*

His mind drifted away as his fingers wrapped itself around his favourite quill, etching random letters onto the few feet of parchment laid simply on his desk. He never realized what the consequences were when one stayed buried deep in a cloud of dilemma and confusion.

As he wrote the words on the bit of parchment, he thought he had finally done the right thing. After all, it was all already planned out nicely; the only thing left to do was to just send the letter and confront her. By the time he got one of the men to send the note over to her house, he saw what he had done.

And this time he stayed with it, no matter how much he wanted to scream and run back to her house where he could just snatch and rip the disgusting letter from her dainty, soft hands into shreds.

This is too much. I'm taking advantage of her.

It doesn't matter. She'll come anyways.

She always does.

Then, he screamed.

It was time.

*

Important.

Today. Half past six. Manor.

Regards, Jekyll.

Important.

Today.

Manor.

Jekyll.

Demelza Harper read the sweaty, creased letter she had written for the umpteenth time before stuffing it hastily into her drawer and taking out the note he had given her that morning. She had been called personally by him, for something. Something important.

What was so important that she had to be there for that? Demelza pondered as she inspected the note, flipping the note countless times in hope of a clue. Her eyes blinked steadily; her left hand already aching from the lengthy letter she had just only written. Maybe someday she'll give it to him. Maybe she will give it to him tomorrow.

Who knows?

She slipped his note into her coat pocket with a huff. For courage, I guess.

Then, she started to run.

On and on she went through the hilly, sleepy town of Gianna Falls, moving past old cottages to five week old diners. She sprinted as fast as her two legs could ever carry her to the manor which she was all too familiar with.

Sentient mutant strains of Nightshade and Violet Wolfsbane whipped at her ankles, but still she kept going. Nothing could ever delay her from meeting him. Not even her sickly, frail lungs which caused her to wheeze heavily every few seconds, or the intimidating gargoyles which loomed at every corner, ready to attack.

Three dongs echoed from the nearby church.

Three dongs meant it was already a quarter past six.

Her heart pounded along in excitement, almost ready to explode from her chest to the sky. Anticipation and adrenaline filled her every cell, creating different sorts of scenarios which she imagined would take place later in his manor.

Maybe it would be of him telling her that she had always been the one, and that they would go away to a place of no limits. Demelza chuckled silently, as she continued pushing her slender brown legs to run.

I'm coming, Jekyll. I'm coming.

Before she knew it, she had barged through the huge, dusty doors of the Caldwell Manor and she was finally inside. Arched Gothic hallways surrounded the bricked walls which had been filled with twists and turns of moss in between.

Caldwell Manor had never failed to amuse her, even though she had been in the very same rooms for more than a year. Its brightly stained walls covered of Catholic tapestries always seemed to look down at her; eyes of monks and nuns following her every move as if loyal to the ones who resided in this very home.

Stacks of books and encyclopedias sprawled along each and every corner of the sophisticated house. He always loved to read. So did she, after she saw him making himself comfortable on the royal scarlet chair he always adored while he handsomely flipped a page of one of Dickens's work .

Then she saw him.

"J-Jekyll?"

The limp body of Jekyll Caldwell shone glaringly in the dim hall; speckled with spots of shining blood. Saliva oozed out of his chapped, crimson mouth. His rigid, battered fingers balled, shaking tightly over his head, while the man muttered inaudibly to himself. Moonlight shone through the several tinted arch windows, illuminating his shaking, new form. His blazer was torn to pieces, left on the marbled floor, like trash ready to be collected. The white shirt he always wore was wide opened and stained; its buttons either torn out or clinging on to its piece of white thread for dear life.

Who was this man?

Was this even the Jekyll she knew?

Demelza whimpered at the gruesome sight she had just witnessed. It was too much for her. She shut her eyes tightly, wishing for everything to just be a dream.

It's fine. It's just a dream. Just a dream.

The seconds passed into minutes. And when the minutes were just too much, she inhaled... and looked up.

And she exhaled.

He was back to normal.

Thank Lor-.

"Wait. Jekyll... you're covered in-" Goosebumps rose from her skin.

"Blood? Saliva? Precisely. How astute, dear girl." He nodded at her approvingly, razor-sharp teeth directed proudly at her. How much she would have adored it if not for the fact that he had just been acting like a zombified dog, mouth snapping at every second.

"But," she hesitated, looking for the correct response, "how?"

"Do you love me, Demelza Harper?" His voice changed, a sense of hostility forming in his growl.

" I...," her cheeks were slowly blossoming, "I... have always loved you, Jekyll Hardin Caldwell."

Time stopped at that moment, fluttering through the dusty air like a butterfly.

Jekyll then felt something stir inside of him. He finally felt it: what it was like to be genuinely loved. It was a milestone to him. A life-changing one.

"But will you still love me?" He asked once more, touched from the reply the girl  had given.

"What... do you mean?" The confession had left a shocking imprint on her, slowly turning her into a mix of confusion and relief.

Demelza bloody Harper, you did it.

You did it, old girl.

"Even if... I'm not who you think I am?"

Jekyll thought of a famous quote he had once read in one of C.S. Lewis's books.

'Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave with regret? There are better things ahead than any we leave behind.'

He'd always strive to follow in the wise words of his famous idol from his childhood up till this day. But was it worth following those string of empty words now?

Was it worth sacrificing the old for the new?

Love for freedom?

An innocent girl for a new life?

"Yes."

There was no doubt now in her voice. Only true love. And a great amount of trust. After all, this was her golden opportunity to reveal what she had been hiding from him the whole time. It was her chance to tell him those very words.

She had leaned in while they were speaking, and now their faces were so close she could see his eyes sparkle. Like galaxies, she thought. Beautiful ones.

He took a deep breath and exhaled silently.

It was time for the truth, they both decided.

"My dear, do you want to know the real me? The real Jekyll Caldwell?"

"This is simply outrageous, Jekyll. I have known you more than you yourself. Do note that I have been working as your nurse for more than a year already." She scoffed.

"That, Dem, I'm afraid... is both a fact and a lie indeed. You might know me more than anyone else, but... you don't know one more thing."

"Spit it out then."

Let's see what you're hiding then.

"I..."

"I... am one who drinks the blood of another. A soulless being... impure at heart: a vampire." He said, releasing all of the filthy words he had never really associated with himself out loud in distaste. To the one person he knew who would trust him. And accept him.

"No. You're lying." She laughed nervously.

I'm not dumb, Jekyll.

"How old are y-?"

"Well, think about why I never eat my food in front of anyone. Or why my clothes are always found torn to shreds. Ever wondered why this manor is called the 'Accursed House'? WHY DO YOU THINK I AM STUCK UP IN THIS DAMNED ISOLATED MANOR MY ENTIRE LIFE, HAVING NO ONE EXCEPT YOU AND ONLY YOU? THINK! THINK FOR GOD'S SAKE. Think. Think again, Harper."

He was chuckling now. Laughing at her stupidity and how long she took to process the sentence. But somehow he still seemed sad, even with the wide Cheshire grin plastered on his face.

He was always sad beneath all those layers of rage.

"I..."

It was starting to sound more and more familiar. The smell of animal (or human?) blood that clung to him. His sharp incisors that always glinted in the moonlight, reminding her of the old vampire fables which she would always laugh off in her younger years. How her mother would always forbid her to speak of the 'Jekyll man' in the house, for 'good measures'. How no one in the village would ever dare to mention the 'man who lived on the mountain', except her.

And only her.

Her head spun viciously around the room. Bile rose from the back of her throat, ready to be let out, but she gulped it back down. What was going on?

"So please, Demelza. Just leave me. I don't want to hurt you. Please."

He looked away from her face, unable to meet her eyes from the embarrassment and guilt he felt inside from planning the thing he had wanted to do ever since he met her. He began to regret even more of having taken advantage of the girl who admired him.

Questions were beginning to form everywhere. So what if he was left a vampire? At least, he had someone who cared for and loved him, unlike the other men in his family.

"Over my dead body."

He suppressed a smile which had started to grow on his face. It felt ages since he had last smiled.

"Well, well. If you truly love me, would you care to at least help me out of my curse?"

"What... do you need?"

"Blood. I need your blood. You see, curses can only be ended by receiving or in this case, taking something from someone who is only willing to end it."

"Like a true love's kiss. Like Sleeping Beauty."

"Interesting, but no. As you can see, I, Jekyll Hardin Caldwell, am not a princess. I'm a vampire. I demand for blood. It's my curse."

He needed her blood. How often did one ask another for their blood as a symbol of help, anyway? And how often was that man a vampire? She pondered and thought of answers to all the questions which had popped up in her head, making her question her love for him.

You love him, don't you?

I don't know. It seems so dodgy.

If you do, give it to him, Dee. Give him the blood. Don't lose him.

You have him now.

But what if I die?

You won't. He loves you.

"If I do so, will you be... back to normal?" She asked him, as she hoped for a yes. Maybe things could be much better after the curse ended.

"Definitely. I swear, Demelza."

"Do you even love me?"

"No doubt."

"Will we move away? Together?"

"Yes, we will. We'll move to another village far away from this depressing area. And... we'll build a beautiful family. Just you and me. With a couple of little kids of our own. But look, it'll always be the both of us. Forever." He had cupped the both of her cheeks while they had talked, drawing her pallid face closer to his. They were now confident that they loved each other, making the aura much more intimate for the both of them.

Demelza took a deep breath and grabbed his neck with the both of her hands, pulling him to her. Just like how she had seen those girls in the movies do countless times before, except that this was real. Jekyll leaned in and brushed her face with the back of his hand, looking back at her with a smile.

I'm sorry, Demelza.

"Promise me, Jekyll Caldwell. Promise me that that will happen."

"I... I promise."

Forgive me, Dee.

"Are you ready?"

She stuttered and held on her tongue for a while. Her life was going to change after this. Her dream was finally going to happen after all this months of waiting. She would finally be able to live with the man of her dreams and even start a family with him. It was going to be a happily ever after in the end.

She imagined how her parents would react to their marriage. Her mother would probably frown at her, telling her to cancel her marriage with 'the Jekyll man' while her father would scoff at the side, secretly proud of his little daughter.

She also imagined a little wooden shack buried deep in the forests, where they would stay for the rest of their lives. They would, as Jekyll said, move out of this depressing town to somewhere far away. Maybe to France, where Jekyll could teach her a little bit of French.

What would the names of their children be, anyway? Jonathan? Lila? Mabel? Bonnie Harper-Caldwell?

It was endless.

What more about thinking twice?

"Always."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

I'm ready, Jekyll. I'm ready for us.

His teeth sank into the jugular vein of her neck. It penetrated deeply into her fragile flesh, unconsciously sucking out all of her blood for himself. Of course, she could feel everything happening: the excruciating pain of her neck being pierced by two needle like fangs, the suffocation she felt from being choked by his strong arm which had later left blue black marks on her dry neck, and the metallic smell of blood diffusing everywhere in the room.

It was so painful. But she'll make it through, right? Just like he promised her. It'll only hurt for a short while. And the pain would be over.

I'll be waiting for you, love.

"Jekyll." Her throat burned for every syllable she stammered. She was panting heavily now, eyes brimming with tears, groping desperately for his face to see his eyes one last time. For her to hear him reassure her that it would be alright.

But he never looked back at her.

And she never knew why tears were falling down his cheek when she kept on begging him to tell her it would be alright.

Demelza Harper never really got to know lots of things.

*

The room faded away into darkness for her.

With a strangled moan, she took her last breath and that was it.

The girl was dead.

And for the first time in forever, he felt a purfified tear slide down his cheek.

"I'm sorry."