Night was falling slowly and I walked along the quay of the Seine, hopeless. I went to the Louvre to reach my hotel. I needed to take advantage of the night to make a decision, but like an addict I found myself looking through my memory for images of her face. I was going to tell her that I was sick and go and bury myself, because I'm a vampire out of control. She would not believe me, but how important would the excuse need to be anyway? Maybe I would not even come back.
Maybe I should go away forever.
I made a long detour and strayed from my path. I was not tired, but I decided to go to a donor center that night nevertheless. It was a simple precaution that would probably be far from sufficient. The whole scenario might turn into an almost unmanageable situation. I left the car in the parking lot and I continued on foot.
As I walked into the dark night, I thought of my hasty departure to the sea the previous week. I had hoped to control the situation if I left her and this city, but it did not help me. What has caused my attraction for her? Was it the fragrance? Was it pure animal instinct? The monster - who was hiding inside of me and who I had cornered there for so many years - it had found an exit and slowly had begun to reappear. I had to pretend she did not exist. I should just leave. Not just walk away temporarily and then come back again.
It made no sense! No! There had to be something else! I had never felt so attracted. I did not know how to act faced with such a disturbing situation. I could not think, and only my instinct was left to answer this huge question: why was I attracted to her? I felt a vacuum form inside of me when I thought she did not exist. Infinite space is meaningful only with its stars and planets, with black holes, and all that incessant and continuous movement! There must be something else!
I thought of my memory of Tyrone with his features altered by fierce anger. He was not happy that I left without giving him more details. How had he come there, anyway? I felt sudden surprise and his concern.
"Estrange?"
"Tyrone! What are you doing here? I did not even hear you! I must leave here."
"What happened?" He was trying to delay me, but I went on my way.
"Nothing. For the time being, anyway. But it will soon - if I continue on as I have been."
He grabbed my arm.
"I do not understand," he said in a low voice while walking next to me.
"Have you ever... Has it ever happened to you?" I took a deep breath and I could see the wild glow of my eyes in his eyes. "Have you ever met someone who attracts you like a magnet?"
"Oh, no!" His voice was hoarse with despair. "Not you!"
My features were sunken in shame. He tried to touch me again. He pretended not to notice when I drew back, and he put his hand on my shoulder.
"Not that!" he continued in his hoarse voice and his hand fell.
Now he wondered if he had made the right choice by leaving me alone, I was sure.
"I had to come back," I whispered while walking. "I needed to understand. I could so easily betray your trust - if you had tried to stop me."
"I'm sorry you had to suffer so much, Estrange."
"Who told you that I was suffering?" I replied, laughing grimly.
"I see you."
"Why are you here? You know I'm glad to see you, but..." The pain of my heart went in my voice.
"I do not think myself a coward. I'm not sure, but something tells me that you have been playing poker with your fate."
We slowed our pace.
"I need some time to rationalize." I said, my laugh sounding sinister in the night.
"I know, I know..."
Yet these words, instead of convincing me to give up everything, made me still want to stay.
A year or two.
Tyrone stopped and I followed suit. He looked at me.
"But this time you did not intend to run away, right?" I shook my head sadly. "Is it pride, Estrange? There is no shame."
"No, it's not pride that keeps me here. At least not anymore."
"You have nowhere to go?" His eyebrows remounted and the flash of his eyes cut me into pieces.
I had a short laugh, without joy.
"No. That would not keep me if I could bring myself to leave."
"Is it the attraction?"
"Yes," I replied in a hoarse voice.
"And you are able to be around her? How so?"
"I want to."
"You want to stay? What keeps you here, Estrange? I do not understand."
"I do not know if I can explain it." Even for me, it made no sense.
He watched me for a long time. "No, I don't understand. But if you prefer, I will respect your desire."
"Thank you. It's generous of you, when you see how I give you back your friendship." I was not going to force his defenses.
"We all have our quirks," he said, shrugging his shoulders and laughing again.
"Can I go?" I said, seeing that I had arrived at my destination. I sighed.
"You will not start again?" he asked and his look made me feel ashamed.
I bowed my head in disgust. I raised my hand and I shook my fist until the bones begin to crack.
"I... I want to resist. I do not want to hurt her." I opened my fist and the cuts in the palm, caused by my fingernails, began to close. I looked at Tyrone.
"Go in," he said, "I'll wait outside." His gaze, bewildered, sought mine, and I nodded, thinking that forcing me to shed some blood later in my room, could help a little.
I pressed the doorbell and the guard came out. I showed him my card which he carefully inspected. Then he beckoned me to come inside, not without looking if there was anyone else in the street. Tyrone was lurking in the street behind.
It was cold when we returned to the hotel. The rain had cleaned the streets - every leaf, every blade of grass was covered with water. We went to our rooms. Tyrone knew where I staying every time I was called for a mission in Paris; he had taken the same hotel.
"I'll miss you, Estrange. Really."
Yes, me too I will miss her... if I decide to leave her.
While Tyrone went to rest, I returned near the Seine, waiting for the sun to rise. I was almost full. I consumed a large quantity of the donor center blood earlier in the evening. The stone on which I sat was cold and hard, and I stared at the black water almost motionless. Was I right? Should I leave? She could start a career, maybe even find someone. I could imagine - I could see her - dressed in white, her hand into another man's hand, his face blurred. This thought strangely made me feel pain. I did not understand. Was I jealous because she had a future in which I would never have a place? It made no sense. Everyone else around me had the same potential before them - a life - and it was rare that I envied them. I had to stop complicating her life. It was the best thing to do!
The sun rose behind a thin layer of clouds and its light glittered on the Seine like a frozen glass rink. I wanted to see her one last time. I could withstand it, but it would be difficult. I already felt my heavy hesitation and the excuses to stay and delay the deadline for two days, three, four... But I would do the right thing. Yet I knew I was too much in conflict with myself to make a drastic decision. What part of me wanted to stay to satisfy my curiosity? What part of me wanted to go to satisfy my conscience? I went to put on fresh clothes.
There are as many good solutions as there are bad solutions.