He wants her and doesn’t want her. He needs her as a shoulder to cry on when is is scared of his demons and has no one else to confide into. He is ashamed of his dark desires but at times his secrets are too much of a burden for him to bear. His irresistible impulses, his unholy drives… She is the only one who can help him keep his delusion of sanity. Sometimes he fears he might hurt her. She is so frail, so fragile, so innocent… She really has no clue. But he thirsts for blood, fresh blood, and the Night is his natural habitat. He does not feel too much remorse after his actions, mainly a sense of relief as his lust has been satiated. He may feel some regret after each kill, panic and fear of getting caught. At times he believes himself to be godlike and invincible, at other times he just feels a sense of terror and unreality. Then he needs to phone her even in the middle of the night, just to her her soothing voice, grounding him back to a normal life if only for a little while. He is an old Presbyterian at heart and believes himself cursed. There can be no mercy, no forgiveness for him, no pardon for his sins, no unburdening of the heart. Only she can offer him some temporary solace. She holds him against her chest, they kiss and cry together. She asks him where he has been during his increasingly frequent absences, he says he cannot tell her or makes up some more lies. What else could he do? He cannot bear the thought of losing her even though he is lost to himself.
His craving for blood is stronger than anything. He will prowl the streets at night, waiting for the next available prey, a young woman with long dark hair, full of life, full of hopes and expectations. He knows he holds the power of life and death over her. That is the main thrill. Mastery of other people’s lives is his only form of control.
He cannot tell how much she suspects. She will cry herself to sleep waiting for his return. She is sick with worry and anxiety. She has more doubts than he could possibly imagine, even in his most paranoid moments. She could not handle the truth. Although deep down doesn’t she know the truth already?