CHAPTER 1: BLOOD.

　　July 3rd,1996.

　　"I can't believe I'm on my knees begging you to spare my life"Tobias O'Connell muttered, bitterly to Wyatt Gentry whom he had supposedly called his best friend for so many years.

　　This bestfriend now held him at gunpoint.

　　"If you had just listened to me,it wouldn't have gotten to this point"Wyatt thundered.

　　Their voices woke eight years old Damien from sleep.

　　Everywhere was dark.

　　He slowly got up and put on the lights in his bedroom.

　　He walked out of his bedroom and came by the staircase.

　　He saw his parents on their kneels.

　　He found it hard to believe that Wyatt was pointing a gun at them.

　　"Please..... please kill me,Wyatt....Just have mercy on my family... I'm begging you"Tobias pleaded as hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

　　Wyatt aimed at his mother, Martha.

　　He pulled the trigger....

　　It was as if he was watching a movie....

　　He had watched different action movies with his father but he never thought he would see a gun....a bullet piercing into his pregnant mother's head.

　　She dropped dead on the floor...

　　"Ma.... Martha!"Tobias muttered in dismay.

　　"Wyatt... I'm begging you.... don't wipe out my entire family....my son...my son..."

　　"I'm tired of hearing your voice already"Wyatt cut in, impatiently and fired a shot at Tobias temple.

　　Damien just stood there watching his parents in the pool of their own blood.

　　Blood....blood...blood.... everywhere!

　　This was a dream...this had to be a dream.

　　He was going to wake up tomorrow and his daddy would take him out on a workout...they would go circling together and come home to eat his mommy's delicious meals.

　　They would tease her about her baby bump and then watch a movie together.

　　Yeah....this was....

　　"Get the boy and let's get the hell out of here"Wyatt announced.

　　Damien tensed.

　　This wasn't a dream!

　　He ran into his bedroom and locked the door... frantically.... tearfully.

　　He ran to the window and jumped down.

　　His ankle bent and he fell on the ground.

　　"Where the fuck is he?We have to find him now!"He heard Wyatt's voice.

　　He stood up and started running ignoring his hurting ankle.

　　He knew they were close.

　　He wouldn't be able to run far enough.

　　He was going to die tonight too.

　　What's the use of even living.

　　His parents were dead.

　　He wanted to be anywhere they were.

　　Someone pulled him into the woods and closed his mouth.

　　PRESENT DAY.

　　*DAMIEN*

　　I jerked awake and found my whole body convulsing.

　　I was having a panick attack as a result of that night...that memory...that memory that always torments me.

　　That memory that has made me a hundred shades of fuck-ups.

　　I shakily reached for my drawer and brought out an injection.

　　Drugs no longer cool off my panick attacks.

　　I injected myself while gnashing my teeth together.

　　After a few seconds,I felt less frightened.

　　In my stable state,I noticed I was running out of injections.

　　I glanced at the tableclock which read 5:14am.

　　My doctor is always ready anytime I need him

　　I got up from my bed and stalled over to my dressing room.

　　All my outfits are black.

　　My suits are black.

　　My long and short sleeves are black.

　　My sweatshirts are black.

　　All my casual wears and shoes are also black.

　　I love black.

　　It makes me feel like a devil.

　　I love being a devil.

　　I got clad in a black hoodie,black jeans and black sneakers.

　　I walked out of my bedroom.

　　I stay alone in my mansion.

　　The cook,cleaning lady and the butler stay in the house beside my mansion.

　　They only have to perform their duty and leave me the fuck alone.

　　They have to keep their distance from me because I can't get touched....

　　Funnily enough, I can touch someone but if I have any body's hands on me,it would lead to a panick attack.

　　That doesn't mean I don't fuck.

　　I fuck a lot but I enjoy kinky fuckery.

　　I love to tie up women and take them.

　　I didn't want innocent girls who liked tender kisses and gentle lovemaking or romantic candlelight dinner...bla...bla bla.

　　I wanted it rough...dirty...dark.

　　I want to hurt them.

　　I want them begging... crying... screaming.

　　As much as I love to fuck.

　　I also love to kill.

　　Many people kill for so many reasons.

　　Some kill for fun.

　　Some are hired assassins.

　　Some are driven by anger.

　　Some are psychopaths.

　　I don't know which group to classify myself but I kill as often as I could.

　　Watching people in the pool of their own blood is amusing... thrilling...fun but I wasn't a psychopath.

　　Though my doctor says my problem is psychological.

　　There's no cure for my urge to see people's blood.

　　And fuck it... I can't stop.

　　Seeing blood gives me some kind of satisfaction.

　　No one was ever really born bad with the possible exception of a few people with a serious chip missing in their heads but everyone had the ability to kill if the appropriate circumstances presented themselves.Most people were simply too afraid or set in their ways and law to acknowledge this dark, twisted power deep inside them.

　　Those who weren't afraid controlled life itself.

　　They were the judge,jury and executioners of the world just like me.

　　Whether it was right or wrong held on the decisions made by these individuals.

　　Something else drove that fury,that raging need to extinguish another human existence.

　　That little something was different for everyone.

　　I watched James my doctor as he pulled up many injections into my briefcase.

　　"How have you been feeling these days, Damien?"

　　"Good"

　　"Nightmares?"

　　"Still coming"

　　"I will always tell you the same thing I've been telling you for years,all your fears are in your head and if you let....."

　　"I fucking tried...."

　　"You ain't trying enough... Take for examples...who on earth has a wardrobe full of black clothes? I know people were black...I wear black but I can't make my clothes all...."

　　"I don't feel comfortable in other colours"I snapped.

　　He sighed and let go of the issue.... knowing I might fire him if he doesn't.

　　Who am I kidding?

　　I can never fire him because I can never get another doctor like him who knows everything about me and still wants to help me.

　　I'm not a dysfunctional psychopath.

　　On the outside...no one knows what I've done and what I'll continue doing.

　　I'm a well respected billionaire.

　　Even with my bloodlust and all... I've got to get my father's legacy running.... I've got to maintain our family name.

　　Even if I'm the only one left of that family.

　　It fucking hurts.

　　I'm broken.

　　I know I'm broken and there's no way I'm ever getting fixed.

　　So I live like this.

　　I fuck hard.

　　I kill hard and I work hard.

　　I walked into one of the rooms which contains all my weapons.

　　No one knows about this room except me.

　　I ran my hand through the double barrel guns.

　　It feels gun to watch bullets pierced into people's body.

　　I turned on my computer and one of my men had sent my new target.

　　A thirty-five years old man who just murdered a young girl.

　　The police were looking for him but I have to get him first.

　　It'll be a loss if he doesn't die by my hands.

　　The men I work with are highly skilled..

　　In no time,they sent me his location.

　　I wore my mask.

　　I grabbed a pistol and a knife and hurried out of my house.

　　STAVEN'S ALLEY...9:50pm

　　The place was deserted when I arrived there.

　　Makes my work easy of killing eye witnesses too.

　　I moved around a bit, lurking at a corner waiting for my prey.

　　"Who the fuck are you?"

　　I smirked and turned around to find him pointing a gun at me.

　　"Were you following me?"He asked.

　　"I wonder if your blood looks nice"I drawled.

　　He laughed, hysterically.

　　"What are you?Some kind of vampire or some shit"

　　He's no match for me.

　　I kicked the gun away from his hands and as he tried to delved towards it.

　　I pulled out mine and shot his left leg.

　　"What the fuck,man!"He groaned falling on the ground."What do you want?We can talk about this,huh.Don't kill me"He begged.

　　"Did she beg you too?"

　　"How do you know Claire?"

　　I shrugged, casually.

　　"How shall I kill you?it would be nice to blow off your brain...it would also be nice to see the size of your heart."

　　His throat convulsed as he swallowed.

　　"Please...."

　　"Please?my parents begged too but they were killed.Why should I spare you?"

　　"I don't fucking know your parents"He thundered.

　　That did it.

　　He slumped forward with a strangled cry as I jabbed a needle into his neck. I looked down at him,calmly,as he struggled against the drug coursing through his veins.