The Journal of Jane
This life isn’t real. We’re just playing human. We take lovers to our beds and make friends that are more like alliances. We talk about how we feel. We tell each other of our love, of our hate. It’s not that different from the life I once knew; only the emotions are hollow and dead.
I’m not sure what you felt when your Sire died. I think you were mostly happy. But and I ask you this, look someone you once loved in the eyes and tell them the truth. Part of you felt a little deader because of it. Part of you mourned. How could you not? How could we not? Our Sire’s made us, chose us out of so many and gave us a new life. It was a mixture of hate and love for these new gifts.
I never did fully hate him for making me. Saving me, so to speak. He gave me a second chance. He gave us a second chance. As slim as that chance is, knowing it exists makes me a little more whole.
And those years without him. I ran wild on the streets, losing myself so quickly to the beast that I slept at a far too early age. I was truly a monster without any guidance. He offered me guidance and so many times I slapped that hand away.
I would be lying if I said my Sire and I had the perfect relationship. Though, one of the kindest men I’ve ever known, he could still be harsh. All for my own well being, of course, but I was always the stubborn one. You, of all people, should know that. He knew too, but like you, he cared too much to let it stop him.
I never did have a stable father figure in my life and I think he was the closest I ever got to one. Now, I’ll never have that relationship again. I never thought I’d want it so badly, but we don’t realize these things until they’re taken from us. How human.
I should be mad at him. Sacrificing himself for someone he hardly knew. But that’s who he was and it really didn’t surprise me at all. When James Howard came in, carrying a jacket like it was the most fragile thing in the world, his eyes and everyone else’s staring at me. I knew. I knew when I felt his urge to protect fill me. I knew when I felt nothing. I knew. But still, they had to tell me, didn’t they? They had to fill me with this grief that was already filling to the brim. And it poured out in a surge of anger. I wanted to tear the face off of every single frown and that one.. that one that smiled. I wanted to tear that face off the most. It would have been my end, I’m sure. But it wasn't and I can thank and despise the Ordo for my training.
Sometimes I think I should have just let you drain me that night. Completely. Then I wouldn’t have to go on and maybe he’d still be alive. Mostly, I just wish I was there. I would have jumped in front of him as he jumped in front of her. That death would have been easier to face. For, without our Sire’s, what are we really? I can no longer feel him and I hate it. It feels like a part of me has curled up and died. Like someone reached inside my gut and pulled it apart, throwing bits to the floor and saying, “You won’t need this anymore.” But I do need it.
And I can’t stop thinking about that night not that long before the day he died. He was truly the walking dead. I was proud of him. He did what any warrior of Bast would have and he made me happy. But, then your voice taunted me and reminded me of the taste. You told me how easy it would have been. Your blood has tainted me, yet I cannot hate you for it.
For now, I have to put on my hard face. My calm, whispering voice. I'm sure my family will see through it but there is no time for weakness in this life, I must be strong for them. I must continue on. I must not forget.
I will write you again soon, when I can tell the story properly. I read this over and it’s full of emotions and turmoil but nothing concrete. For that, I appologize. Even echoes of emotions can be too strong for a single Kindred to bare.
http://new.music.yahoo.com/anders-manga/tracks/see-me-in-the-mirror--21640790