When I was a child I heard about an Outside. Where other children played with other children on what the Whites called slides and swings. The Whites told me stories with hatred and a grin on their faces. The stories consisted of things that I never had in my life up until a year ago. They had taken care of me in a sinful way and my body showed it. With bumps and bruises branded into me I was never allowed near the Master. A man who was the maker of me and this facility. They said that if He saw them I would never be able to live here again. That I would be shipped off to a place in this cruel world.
Of course, living in condition and environment I had, I'd grown up way before I should have. When I was thirteen the Whites told me that I should be in university. Later on I learned that university is where really smart grown ups go to learn more things. That made myself proud that I am considered a genius. But now I regret it. I regret learning all those facts in such a short period. Because that marked my differences and my non-human body more than my appearance. Even after living with this body and in this world for sixteen years, I can barley look into a mirror.
My thick, jet black hair whipped around my lower back and bounced with the locks it formed. Porcelain skin covered my inhuman bones which was shaped of what the Whites called a model. And my eyes were the keys to see my demons inside of me. They were an unfamiliar purple to the humans and to the Whites. Even theirs are a purple, mine is more different. The light purple was the base in the iris with darker rings surrounding the pupil. There was also a light line going through the middles which was an eerie white.
The Whites thought I was blind since the line went straight through my pupil when I was younger. But in fact they were wrong, it only happened to help me out. That is the symbol of the hybrid of vamp-wolves. I made that name up seeming that I was the only one out there that had the hybrid cells in my body. That is the main downside of my life. I will never be able to talk to another vamp-wolf hybrid about the changes I have been having. Nor will I be able to live with another one or have a normal relationship with a guy.
That made me mad, that the Whites would only make one of my kind. Of course I had always thought of that when I was younger but every year it grew more and more. That was the breaking point of the massacre in the white building. Every Whites died by my burning hunger for their flesh and blood. Literally. All through my life my diet consisted of human blood along with their meat. A diet that was both of the vampire and werewolf. But that night on the full moon with hatred and fear coursing through me, I got loose and taken revenge.
Blood covered their mangled, half eaten bodies. It was smeared over the walls and doors, down the hallways in bloody hand trails. Their screams were lost in the middle of the woods that I found out surrounded this place. Every bruise, every red smack, and every cut was released on their bodies that once was on mine. But theirs was tenfold of what I had felt. It was the wrath of that Hybrid.
The Whites never expected this to happen. For me to turn against them because they thought I was well trained like a fragile puppy. But all my life I had been waiting for the moment when I was at my strongest and knew everybody's weakness. It was fun seeing their fear and tasting their life drain away into the dark void that I lived in. It was delicious to feel their blood trickling down my throat and chin, to bite down into the flesh that was ripe with humanity. Never before had I enjoyed myself so much in killing a human.
I crave for that feeling again, to killing every human that passes my view. To have them pay for what they have caused me and for even making me into what I am. If I hadn't been abandon by my parents in an alley near their headquarters, then I wouldn't have been a mutated freak. But no, my biological parents didn't want me and thought I would be better off without them. Dead instead of alive.
Those people, whose genes once made up my body, were the real people I wanted to kill. But I needed to wait and plan when and how to kill them. How to find them and how to introduce myself before ripping their life away from them. How to savour their fear and their bloody flesh. Should I eat if right off the bat and kill them fast, or slowly eat them limb from limb and give them a slow death.
These thoughts is how my story begins. How I got where I am now. Stuck inside my own shell, locked away from the world. All because I fell for someone who made me curious.