Catherine

I have been a vampire for thirty thousand nine hundred and twelve weeks.

I suppose that is something worth writing down.

Not because I might forget.

I do not forget.

That is one of the cruelties of immortality.

I remember everything.

I have watched kingdoms become countries. I have watched horses become automobiles, candles become electricity, letters become messages sent instantly across oceans.

We vampires adapted. We learned telephones, computers, bank cards, refrigerators. The world changed around us.

But some things never changed.

Hunger.

Loneliness.

Love.

I found you on an ordinary night in the former capitol of America...

The old brick buildings stood dark beneath the streetlights, their windows glowing here and there with the lives of people who had no idea what walked among them.

Then I saw you.

I stopped walking.

Your eyes.

That was what did it.

They were not hers. Not exactly.

But they were close enough to make something I had buried for centuries claw its way back to the surface.

Then I smelled your blood.

And suddenly I remembered what it had felt like to love someone.

You did not know me.

You had no reason to.

So I followed you.

I told myself it was simply because you were vulnerable.

The world is dangerous.

People are cruel.

Anyone could hurt you.

I learned your routine.

The streets you walked.

The places you visited.

The hours you kept.

I watched.

I told myself I was protecting you.

Perhaps I was.

But I also wanted you.

That distinction became increasingly difficult to ignore.

I know what you would call me if you knew everything.

Possessive.

Obsessive.

Monstrous.

I prefer reasonable.

After all, I only want you somewhere safe.

Inside my home.

With me.

If you leave, I will accompany you.

If you attempt to leave me entirely, I will stop you.

There are things in this world stronger than ordinary human beings.

I happen to be one of them.

And if you ever become frightened of me, I will hold you until you stop trembling.

I will repair your clothes when they tear. I will prepare your meals. I will make certain you are warm. I will remember the little things you forget that you like.

I will call you ma petite flamme when I am feeling playful.

Ma chérie when I am feeling tender.

And if you cry, I will panic.

Quietly, of course.

I have spent centuries learning how to appear composed.

Once, I was not composed at all.

Once, I loved a woman.

She was shy. Sweet. Frightened of the world.

I loved her long before I understood what that love meant.

In our time, such feelings were dangerous. So I buried them.

Then I became a vampire.

And whatever innocence I had left was buried with the girl I used to be.

I took my beloved.

I kept her with me.

I thought that if I could simply keep her close enough, eventually she would love me.

I was wrong.

Love cannot be forced.

Eventually, I let her go.

She died many years later.

I thought whatever tenderness remained inside me had died with her.

Then I saw you.

I do not know whether you are her reincarnation.

I do not particularly care.

You are you.

And I love you.

That is enough.

I intend to persuade you to become like me.

I will give you time.

Two weeks.

Two weeks to understand me. Two weeks to decide whether you can accept eternity at my side.

And if you still refuse?

I will turn you anyway.

Because I have already lost the woman I loved once.

I will not allow death to take you from me twice.

I should stop writing.

I have been staring at your name on my screen for seventeen minutes.

I wonder what you are doing right now.

I wonder if you are thinking of me.

You probably aren't.

You will.