They say time heals all wounds, and that looking at things from a different angle can change someone's perspective.
All these sayings are lies! I have waited for my wounds to heal, giving them time and space but they never heal. Instead, it gets deeper with time. I have looked at life from all angles and even more but my perspective hasn't changed, it is still the same. I can confirm only this; experience is indeed the best teacher.
It will be quite hard for you to comprehend if you have not been with me through this journey, and it will be harder for me to justify my actions later, whichever way things turn out to be. For this sake I will let you ride with me as I let a glimpse of my world, from my point of view, slip out.
And when I am done you can be the judge.
***********
In one week, I'll turn eighteen, and I'm not even excited or eager. How can I be any of these adjectives? My spirit is older than my body. Besides, I've gone through this stage of life eight times and yes it obviously means this present life is my ninth reincarnation.
Well, what can I say? I am even ashamed to say this; death is my best friend.
Anytime it gives me one quick call, I never decline. I always answer it. Like it is my birthright. Been cursed to. I see death as a woman. And her aura, it has always felt the same with each meeting. Cold.
She comes to me with a sorrowful appearance and leads me to the path of rest. And when I finally lay in every single time, something keeps bringing me back to life only to meet my best friend, death, again.
At this point, I am so exhausted. Exhausted of life and death. But what can I do? Go wake up my family and tell them of my predicament, my sorrows, and my fears?
In one of my past lives, I learned that gods exist. They are supreme and also in charge of our destinies and fate. And they also have colossal egos. As big as the planets they watch over. Even though they know that there is space at the top for a lot of people to sit, they still want to be the most favorable.
I made a friend with one. His name is Damian. And he killed me once. It's why I have lesser friends than any normal girl does.
The little me would always pray and ask for help. I would request that if my fate is dying and coming back then it should be changed.
Change the fate of the vampires who have always lived in fear, subjected to suffering and pain. The vampires who have gone into hiding to escape the injustice been done to them. But all of my requests weren't heard. Maybe the gods are deaf or something, I concluded.
Because of the things we went through just because of greed and power. Senses become fogged and clouded. Witches and werewolves didn't see the need for vampires any longer. Didn't see the need to coexist with us. This was where the carnage began. And as such, our joys have fled the confines of our hearts, like a deer fleeing the gun of a hunter.
The werewolves constantly hunt us, slaughtering or enslaving us, as they deem fit. They consider us as the lesser race and they believe if vampires are given the chance, we will be a threat to their dominance over the world.
And so for long, vampires have lived in hiding, fear, and slavery.
I am one of the unfortunate ones to always be killed by the werewolves and reincarnated as a vampire.
Again and again and again.
The last time it happened, someone went too far.
*********
The look on my father's face the moment he walks into the house is one of utmost concern. I read it like a sinister even before he takes my mother upstairs and relates his news to her.
I put down the bar of domino and interlock my fingers across the table, waiting expectantly. Right in front of me, on a turntable, is a framed picture of my father, the Elder Supremo, mom, and me. We are smiling. And this is the only photograph that our smiles are captured.
Klaus walks into the parlor and comes to sit with me. He is wearing a black long sleeve shirt and trousers.
"We're leaving, Ruz," he tells me.
"I figured," I say to him. "When father walked in here with that familiar look on his face. Knew something was wrong."
Klaus sighs. He is my father's concierge. In other words, a right-hand man. Trusted, to always fight by the Elder Supremo's side.
"It never ends, does it?" I find myself asking.
He looks at me, and it is not one of confusion. I see that he understands what I mean. And I also understand that his reluctance to reply is an answer itself.
Slowly, he rises. Looks down at me. "You have to be strong, Ruz. For your father's sake. For all our sakes."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" I demand.
He says nothing and leaves my presence.
I find myself trying to understand his words but my parents come down the stairs and I forget about it.
"It's time, Ruz," my father announces, like a god calling for judgment. "Let's go."
I answer the call and follow him.
*********
The affiliation between the witches and werewolves leaves us no choice but to stand and fight, everyone partaking in the war. Both old and young.
The gods, as usual, keep themselves out of our fracas. They never involve themselves in trying to settle our disputes. Their excuses are merely based on the grounds that celestial time is more important than bloody disagreements instigated by their creatures.
Because we are stronger and faster at night, the attack comes during the day. When we are at our weakest and most vulnerable. It's a good strategy. A smart and wise one. Using the enemy's weakness against the enemy.
But what do we know of them?
Nothing.
We just fight. Fair. While they get their hands and boots dirty. Then bloody.
My demise comes faster than normal and I spend a considerable amount of time fighting death. The hole in my chest created by the jagged wood launches me into visions of my past lives in different bodies. The happiness, the sadness, and the end of it.
As I fall into temporary unconsciousness, I pray to the gods that I shouldn't be reincarnated. Or if I am, it should be the last time.
I hear myself whisper Damain's name, even when I know I shouldn't. And for the first time since my reincarnations, I feel something hot hit me like I am enveloped in flames.
Finally, I am going to the underworld.