Excerpt: "Born Evil"

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Note to the reader: This story contains graphic elements, and may not be suitable for those with delicate sensibilities.

I watched with a kind of detached fascination as the needle came out of my arm. The crimson drop on its slender tip was a stark contrast to the cream latex glove that held
 it.

I kept staring, feeling the burning tingle in my arm begin to ease. I hated having blood drawn. It made me nauseous. To think back on that now, getting queasy at such a piddly thing... God, I was a pussy.

I looked up into the eyes of my big black orderly, who was double-checking the measurement on the syringe. 10cc's, not a drop more or less. He glanced down at me and gave me the half-smile you give an annoying child.

"Can you fall in love with life again?" I asked him.

Did I mention that I was out of my mind at the time?

He cocked an eyebrow, but didn't respond. No one ever did. They probably thought I was contagious. Little did they know...

I had spent the last six months here at the scenic Tabutte Rest for the criminally insane. Of course, few among those of us doing the 'resting' ever got to partake of the 'scenic' part. They generally preferred that we stayed in.

They were running blood tests on me every day now. The doctors still had no clue why I was the way I was. The psychiatrists were sure I was bipolar, schizophrenic, or both. The clinical folks didn't buy it, but they didn't have a better answer. The staff thought I was a vampire, despite the fact that I slept at night, had no problem with daylight, loved garlic, and got queasy at the sight of blood.

I could hear them talking sometimes, when they hung around the nurse's desk down the hall. They'd say things like 'I heard he killed her with his own teeth. Tore her neck out.' Hence my mysterious vampirism.

My orderly shoved a small handful of pills down my throat, then poured half a pitcher of water on top of them to force me to swallow. That, to me, was sufficient explanation for my mental state in and of itself.