Never again,.. never again would he take everything for granted as he always had... The pain he bestowed on others wasn't fair and realization of this wasn't easy,... but he couldn't do it.

327 Candlewood Drive, Aprt. 13

Benedict crouched on his knees and wept as he held the mangled body of the little boy, the child's blonde hair flowing over Ben's hands streaked with unmercilessly spilt blood. The child's blood was everywhere, Ben could still taste it on his face, it was all over his town black jeans and his worn out jacket, smudges on the floor gave detail to the scene of struggle that had just taken place. His tears fell onto the child's cherib-like face and Ben felt the pang of remorse flow through him and his mind continued in hyper-drive as the dead child's memories flowed through him.

A birthday party with no father.

A bully at school picking on how small he was.

The loss of his mother to someone with no heart.

The site of a gruesome crime as the child cut himself with scissors from his foster mother's sewing kit.

A trail of hospital visits and counceling sessions.

Benedict continued to weep. This child, boy, ... youngman, could not have been more than a year younger than when Benedict had lost his own parents. The remorse at taking the child's life so horribly, made him sick. He dropped the boy and turned to vomit on the floor of the boy's kitchen.

"I hate you, Benedict. You BEAST!"

He spoke to himself, and only to himself. He'd had so much control and hadn't killed in a feeding for months, but why this kid? How could he senselessly black out and let the demon inside him have complete control and take the life of one so young. But he was unhappy, Benedict. You helped him get what he was trying to accomplish, done. You helped him pass on to be happy. His conscious fed him a reasoning of pure evil, trying to eliminate the remorse he felt.

"SHUT UP!! I KILLED HIM AND I'M SORRY! HE SHOULD NOT HAVE DIED!!!"

Benedict stood, still weeping as a child who'd lost a loved one, and thought of his own parents. Of how much he missed them and loved them. How much he wished he were the one dead on the ground instead of the young life he'd just taken. He ran away from the kitchen and out the back door, from there he continued 4 houses down to the next alley and slunked down next to a dumpster. The moon was shining and at the same time... mocking him.

He whispered through broken cries, "Helen..."

Helen floated through the night as invisible to the world as a ghost. Her existence was questionable, and she wondered how it came to be. Was it her naturally quiet nature? No. She had not always been quiet, and withdrawn. There was once a time where she was loud, spunky, and somewhat mischievous. What happened to that young girl? She was murdered. And in that night, they took away her light, her meaning for life. This now, was just an artificial one.

She heard her name in a muffled cry, and recognized it as Benedict’s. Helen thought to herself. Why did she help this savage young man? Yes, he wanted to change, and she pitied him, but couldn’t he just do it himself? Self-discipline, and hard work, that always paid off, right? Well, it was deeper than that she figured. If she could teach someone, that would mean that they would be able to see her, and she would be invisible to one less individual. There were times she could have sworn someone swept his or her hand through her face.

Helen walked slowly, and finally arrived to where Ben was, and she looked at him, the blood covering his flesh, and the young boy in his arms. Helen sighed, and placed a cold hand on Benedict’s shoulder. “The beast getting the better of you tonight? Keep hold of your own chains Benedict.” She crushed a rotten piece of wood under her boot, and smoothed out her traditional black sweater she always wore.

The inner struggle was plain on his face, and it twisted and contorted it, and Helen felt her own heart hurting for Ben. She wasn’t used to getting attached to humans, however. Which was strange, for she wanted nothing more than to be noticed by them. But at a distance. She felt like a caged animal craving for attention. Though this animal willingly put itself in the cage, keeping everyone out. Did it make sense? Perhaps not.

She sat beside Benedict, and outstretched her hand, touching the dead child’s face, and seeing the own child’s misery in his abandoned body. “An unhappy child? Tell me, what happened?” Helen’s voice was calm, quiet, and concerned. It was consoling, it was soothing, it was piercing, it was cold. But even in that coldness it help warmth.

Ben looked at Helen as though she were an angel he hadn't been expecting to appear. His tears faltered for a moment and he sighed shakely as he from her to the boy. But when she asked what'd happened the tears returned, an aching in his stomach told him he again wanted to throw up, but he held back the urge.

"I..." he cawed in a choked whimper, "I l-l-lost c-control." He looked to her for consolidation of some sort. "I didn't mean to do this, Helen!" It came out faster and more defensive sounding than he'd wanted but it came out none the less. He lay the child down gently on the ground and stood up, running his hands through his whispy hair and begining to pace.

"God, I just hate myself!" His blue eyes flashed from the child's body to a building side and back, he ran forward and punched a wall with his fist leaving a rather large crack up the side of the building and a round crumbling where the initial hit took place. He continued to weep angrily and pathetically as he leaned against the building with his arm.


((done!))

"I..." he cawed in a choked whimper, "I l-l-lost c-control."

"Obviously."

She looked at the young boy, and wondered why a destructive soul such as he would want to change. What brought on the change of heart? Helen wasn't sure how to help him, especially since she couldn't be his babysitter all the time. She brushed her hand against the cold flesh of the dead child. "Benedict, calm down." Over-reacting wasn't going to change an anger issue. It was like becoming angry with being so angry.

"Getting all worked up won't change anything. Punching a wall isn't going to bring this child back to life. You fed from him, correct? You did not kill him without reason, correct?" If anything, she would at least give this child's death a reason.

"Bu-" Benedict stopped himself from slamming her back with a rude comment and took a deep and shakey breath trying to calm himself. It wasn't her fault he was a monster, and he wasn't going to take it out on her. He wiped his leaking eyes again on his sweater - he wished he could stop crying but every time he stopped the realization of what'd just happened sank back in and he would start to cry again.

"Yes. I fed from him." He put his head on his own forehead and sighed. "He was so very sad, Helen. I can almost feel his anguish as if it were my own." he pointed at his chest unattentively as he spoke. Then his face contorted into a half-grimace half-sob, "But, I had no reason." He tried with all his might to break the sob off and it resulted in a coughing fit. After a few moments of choking he gained control again.

"The last thing I remember b'fore I came to realize what I'd done, I was on my way to feed and was sneakin' in his Grandmother's window." He paused for a moment,... What'd became of the Grandmother? Bloody hell, how many lives can I possibly ruin in one night?! He put his palm to his forehead and tried to push away mental images of the Grandmother laying on her bed in splattered bloody sheets.

Ben's eyes caught Helen's again, he had called for her in his time of need. And to what end? What was it he was expecting of her? A miracle,.. that was a laughable concept. What was it he wanted from her... Understanding, maybe? The distant comfort of having someone know of his inner-struggle and at least put forth an effort of any kind to assist his battle... That's why he kept needing her around. She was the closest thing he had to a friend and he appreciated her coming to his assistance more than she probably realized.

The boy's face was turned toward Ben, his green eyes glossy and his dead face staring unintentionally. "I had no reason." He repeated. "I'm a monster, Helen. And the world hath no place for monsters." A few more tears fell down his pale tears stained face, and he turned his back on the dead boy's stare.

Helen’s eyes softened, realizing how shaken up Benedict was. She rubbed her forehead, and sighed. She felt sorry for Ben, and he was definitely sorry for his actions. His weeping showed that it wasn’t a show; that it wasn’t just for her attention; he really wanted to change. She removed her hand from the dead child and wrapped her thin arms around Benedict. “Shh… It’s okay. This isn’t going to change overnight. You feel remorse. That is the first sign that you are changing.” Despite the fact that his actions were carried out, he had a conscience that knew it was wrong and he ultimately regretted it. Before, as she understood it, he had not cared, and he killed ruthlessly. Maybe there was hope for him yet. Helen had faith in him.

Mumblings fell out of his mouth like unwanted food, but Helen wasn’t hearing him, she just held him closer to her, and as he began to cough, she patted his back, cooing him. “Shh… It’s all right. You can get this. I know you can.” Who was this young woman speaking to Ben this way? Surely it wasn’t the cold, and callous Helen Gustare who cared for little other than books and paintings? She didn’t know why she was showing such empathetic feelings with him.

Grandmother?

That hit her right in her cold, dead heart, and she felt herself stiffen, as she let go of Benedict. Helen bit her lip, and quivered for a moment. “Did… you kill them both?” Helen was trying to hold back her own tears. If he had killed them both, then perhaps they could be together after life. She didn’t know.

He called himself a monster. A small smirk emerged from Helen’s own quivering lips. A monster and a ghost bound by a strange friendship. She looked down at the ground, and patted it. She then stood, and walked to the corner of the room, before taking in a deep, unnecessary breath. “We are all monsters, Benedict. Vampires, mortals, animals, we are all the same thing. It just depends how savage of a monster you are.” She shook her head somberly and tried to find better words to consol him.

An embrace. More comforting than he'd realized such a hug could be. Remorse... an understatement at best. Ben thought to himself, I hate you sire. For this terrible gift you've given me. Burn in hell Artemis, you deserve it. He narrowed his eyes as he mentally tried to blame his monstrous behavior on his sire. No, it was not Benedict's fault he was horrible, it was Art's. Too bad he couldn't make Art regret what he'd done to Ben.

“Did… you kill them both?” Ben could tell she was stricken at the thought.

Ben felt a tear of spite streak his face then felt his tears cease completely. He tried with every cognative ability in his power to remember what's happened to the boy's Grandmother.... What'd happened? Ben wasn't sure.

"I have no idea. No clue whatsoever as to what happened to her." He again turned away but this time from Helen. She'd hugged him to comfort him and in payment, he revealed that not only had be ruthlessly murdered a child, but that he wasn't sure as to what he'd done to the boy's guardian.

Helen spoke of everyone being monsters just different types of severe monsters. Were this true then Benedict was sure that if there was a list of monsters, his name glowed brightly under the heading: Demon. He didn't reply to her but instead walked to the end of the alley they stood in and looked up at the moon. If there is a God. I hope he does the world a favor and destroys the monsters he created. It seems only fair to the innocent. Another tear.

Benedict, that boy was sad. He wanted what he got. You saved him from himself. You saved him. His reasoning grabbed ahold of his mind and tortured him like a bully beats a small classmate with a stick. Ben fell to his knees, tears coming on strongly again, he grabbed his hair with his blood stained hands and pulled angrily. "STOP THIS!"

There was a never-ending conflict within Benedict and Helen could feel it radiating from him. She held him closing and even kissed the soft flesh of his neck. Helen couldn’t help the empathy from her soul cooing Benedict, and comforting his every wound that he felt that lay exposed and pained.

He pulled away from her and glared up at the moon. Helen remained on the ground, watching him. His sanity, if he ever had a grasp on it in the first place was definitely leaving him. Helen couldn’t help but see herself in her days of loneliness, begging God to take her miserable existence from the world. But she could never stop her craving for blood. It buried so deep within her soul, that she found she needed it so profoundly that nothing else really mattered. She was an addict for the stuff.

Was that all a vampire lived for, for blood? Were their lives so meaningless that all they contributed to nothing but the draining of human blood? She then took her own existence into perspective. Would helping Benedict lead Helen to her own demise, questioning her own existence?

She then started to laugh. It wasn’t because of amusement, or mocking Benedict. It was simply because of the hypocrisy of it all. Something she wasn’t so sure of, but simply accepted because of the circumstances was put into question, and Helen found herself without an answer to help Ben. She shook her head, and began to weep herself.

Wouldn’t she have to help herself, before she helped someone else?

Benedict stopped pulling on his hair and sobbed silently to himself for a few moments. What had he done to deserve being so horrible. The loss of his humanity, then his soul, and now... his mind. It wasn't fair. And Ben wanted to scream it at the world.

He stood there, taking in the features of the moon but not actually seeing them, he saw them yes but didn't see them. His mind raced with anger for himself, his sire, and everything that made him himself - and then she laughed. Why? Why would the one person who'd tried to help him laugh? He was crushed at first and turned to face her, his face was not changed from that of a concentrating look, but he was raging. He knew not why she laughed but knew that it made him furious.

Then she did it. She cried. Wept, sitting there on the ground like a child who'd lost their parents. Helen, who was so strong and so capable of everything she seemed to do, was crying here in front of Ben. All the anger that'd built up in a matter of seconds disipated and left a tingle of something else there. Was it an understanding for her pain... no.. he knew not why she cried.

Then it hit him, it was love. The kind that two who have a mutual problem can share. The kind of love that vampires fall into where the darkness of their selves can be left behind for a short moment upon realization and they can try to appreciate what little they have. Their personal struggles had brought them together so to say, and now she wept.

Ben didn't know what to do. He wanted to reach down and hold her as she'd just held him. He wanted to console her in whatever the problem was. He was sorry. For whatever was causing her to cry, he knew that one thing, it was probably his fault and he was sorry. "I didn't mean for this, Helen." He walked over slowly and plopped down onto the ground next to her and the dead child. He couldn't stand to look at the boy he'd obliterated, he grabbed a large sheet that was hanging from a clothes line in the alley and layed it over the child.

"I'm sorry for what I've done. I didn't want to bring you into this, Helen." He didn't look at her as he spoke but instead looked at the sheet over the boy on the ground next to them. "This isn't what you promised me, Artemis." He whispered to the wind.

Crimson tears fell down Helen’s face, though she made no sound. She didn’t know what to think anymore. She had just gotten past the point of caring, past the point of worrying what the point even was. But now, because of Benedict her reason for existing, the reason for living forever seemed so pointless. Who the hell cared with they drained all of humanity dry? They were going to die eventually anyways. So what did it matter if the vampires helped them with their inevitable doom?

His words were spoken, but they never reached her ears. She looked at the ground, at the dead child, at her feet, before coming out of her confused state. Helen looked up at Benedict’s face; her own covered in her blood tears. “I… I have no right to help you.” She whispered. Through her sorrow she laughed again, mocking herself. She pointed to her chest. “I can’t even help myself.” Then she started talking to herself as she rose from the ground. “Who the hell do I think I am trying to help another when I can’t even fucking help myself?!”

A grin smile spread across her face, and she turned to Ben. “I was in denial. I was in the deepest state of denial of my own feelings that made me believe that I could help you.” She shook her head in regret. “I… I don’t know anymore, Benedict.” Helen fell to her knees again, as she buried her face with her shame. “I’m sorry I led you to believe I was more than what I really am.” She wept for a moment, before completely shutting down.

Visions of her last moments on earth as a living being flashed before her eyes; the feeling of the knife as it slid across her throat, the helpless choking as her soul left her body, the fear of leaving her grandmother alone, the guilt of being so stupid, the shame of not being able to fend for herself, and the things she would never have the opportunity to finish stared her in the face as she died. Who the hell did she think she was?

The sheet covered the boy, and Helen closed her eyes as she silently prayed for the boy’s soul. “May it reach Heaven, and experience better things, now that it has gone from purgatory.” She whispered. That’s all this world really was, was the big test, whether you deserved perfection or damnation. Alas, vampires were forever damned not to hell, but eternal suspension between life and death. “I’m going crazy…” She whispered to herself. “Crazy… I have gone.” She closed her eyes again after muttering an ‘amen.’

She looked up at Benedict, with a placid face. “I may not be able to ‘fix’ you, Benedict. But, if you’d like, we could try and help each other.” She bit her lip with the embarrassment that showed in her voice. “Together?”

Benedict watched her pray for the fallen child, watched as she outwardly damned herself and it dawned on him... She was in the same state he was, only with slight differences. She acted as if she were broken on the inside as Ben was, but she had control. His curiosity longed to know what was wrong with her.

He heard it. The silent 'amen'. He wondered if his mother and friends at the brothel had said one for him, believing him dead. He wanted to reach out to his loved ones who were so very far away but alas, they were probably dead anyway, so such a venture would be an unnecessary waste of energy.

“I may not be able to ‘fix’ you, Benedict. But, if you’d like, we could try and help each other.” She bit her lip with the embarrassment that showed in her voice. “Together?”

Ben smiled, though he was almost unsure why, and looked in her eye. "Together." He sighed and stood up, walked to where she nealt on the ground and extended a hand to her. "I've heard together works better then apart." He smiled again to reassure her that he wanted to help her as much as he could.

Helen took Benedict’s hand into her grasp, holding it tight. She remained silent, her thoughts looming on the recent events. What was happening to her? No longer was she the cold, hard individual who cared for no one and no thing. It was all strange and confusing. The air was thick with fog while the two stood there side by side. What was she supposed to say to Benedict? She could not explain to him the events of her past. He would just… have to be patient with her. Perhaps in the future she’d be able to tell him. But… Not now.

She felt as if it was her fate to be this way. She was faced with death and immortality, though it was immortality that claimed her. She had to sit in the darkness as everyone she held dear withered away into their own eternal slumbers, just as she sat and watched… She looked to Benedict, and she couldn’t quite find words to express her disposition. “Benedict…” Her voice trailed off, as she looked up to the moon.

Ben heard his name slip quietly from her lips and from the look on her face he knew that she was not exactly willing to talk about something but that she was also at a loss for words at to what would be acceptable to say...

He found he had the same problem. He couldn't think of what he wanted to say to her. He would help her any way that he could. Of course, without knowing the problem one can't exactly fix it, but he figured that since the pact was but newly made he'd give her time. She'd been patient with him even when he was tearing children apart - he stood there holding her hand, allowing her the time she needed to ponder and look at the moon.

Ben looked at her face as she watched the moon. It was beautiful but it was thoughtful at the same time. Most can't pull it off without looking like a librarian or something but Helen could pull it off wonderfully.

He reached out an touched her perfect form of contemplation gently with his blood stained hand. "In time..." He smiled at her even though she wasn't looking at him.

Helen shook her head, taking a deep breath, followed by a silent cough. Her old lungs weren’t suitable for deep breathing, though it calmed her anyways. “Enough of this. I’m tired of being so depressed.” She rolled her eyes, rubbing her forehead.

Benedict had reached out and touched Helen, and she couldn’t help it, but she recoiled, and shot him a menacing glare. She turned away from him, embarrassed at her reaction. She hadn’t had anyone touch her in ages. “Sorry.” She murmured. She wasn’t sure if she meant it or not, but why had he touched her anyways? There was no need of it, and she didn’t want to be touched by anyone. Not even… No. No one.

She disappeared into the shadows, and whispered a silent apology to Benedict, before reappearing the top of a nearby building. Why did she have to push everyone away? It wasn’t his fault that he needed someone to cling to. Even she in her own way needed someone to cling to, though, she couldn’t see herself doing such a thing. She’d been on her own for so long, that she did not know how to ask for help, or even ask for companionship.

“What kind of a wretched life is this? Who would want to live forever?”

Ben's face darkened as he watched her recoil. He was hurt - he wanted to help her and she'd made it clear that she wanted no help from him. "fine."

When she took to the roof top and looked down at him with that wretched question of life and forever... He didn't know.

"I don't know, Helen. But I don't intend to live that long." Putting his hands in his pockets he looked far away and placid faced.

He turned and noticed that warmth of the on-coming sun.

Looking at the ground he whispered into the wind, "Good night, Helen." Ben disappeared into the speed that no human could catch or even see. He'd been rejected on some level. He'd been in pain and was lost in his own problems and called for her. Why? He didn't know but he knew one thing. She wasn't going to let him in and even if he wanted to help. Being as stubborn as she was - he knew she wouldn't let him help anyway.