December 25th, 1944
Six months on the run. Six months spent with this vampire. Six months and the dates blur. I did not even realize that it was Christmas until I awoke this morning. My traveling companion had been silent about this holiday until this very morning. I dragged myself out of the bed, sporting a terrible hang-over. When I stumbled into the living area of the cabin we are currently staying, the entire front room was decked from one side to the other.
The scent of pine made my head spin. Sometime in the night, Cyrus had gone and chopped down a tree from the neighboring woods. He had put it into the living area near the fire place. There were popcorn streamers covering it, along with some candles and handmade ornaments. Under the tree were gifts wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. It was absolutely amazing. It might have brought tears to my eyes were I not so shocked.
Cyrus was standing over the fire place preparing food for the evening. I expressed confusion over what he had done. After all, since he was from Africa, I had assumed he would not celebrate Christmas as a holiday. He admitted that typically he did not, but he thought it might make me happy. Considering I have been to the worst places in the world and done things that will certainly send me to Hell; I figured I had already reached my low, but in that moment I felt worse than scum.
In the time that I have spent with Cyrus, I have been terrible to him. I get drunk and belligerent daily. I yell at him, curse him, and there have been days that I have even shoved or struck the man. It has all been in the pursuit of my own death. I am too much of a coward to put a bullet in my head, or hang myself, but if I can perhaps make this vampire angry enough to kill me…
Yet here he has done everything in his power to make me happy.
I feigned overwhelming desire to vomit and rushed for our washing room. With the door locked I curled up in a corner next to the basin tub and rocked back and forth for what seemed like an eternity. I find it so difficult to cope with being near him. My body and spirit desire so much to reach for him and beg for comfort, but I do not deserve such things. Even if I could confirm that he would not reject my advances, I do not deserve such a wonderful man.
I did manage to clean up and join him for our small Christmas festivities. To my shock and awe, I had fun today. Using an empty bottle and a bucket, he played music for me and sang songs in the most beautiful language. I have no clue what he was saying, nor do I really care. The sound of his voice soothes my broken spirit and the hole in my heart. We ate a veritable feast of pheasant, potato soup, and pie. Then we sat by the fire while he handed me gifts. I told him that I was embarrassed that I did not get him anything, but he insisted that seeing the look upon my face as I opened mine, was all he wanted.
There were three gifts; one was a smart bright white lab coat. It smelled of a sterile hospital and I am almost certain that he must have stolen it. However, I do not care. I absolutely adore it and I vow to wear it as often as I can. The second gift was a leather medical bag. Again, I cannot imagine where he gathered such a precious commodity. I cannot stop brushing my fingertips against the smooth black leather. It is absolutely divine. The third gift was slightly more endearing. It was just a bundle of fresh beeswax candles. When I looked to him curiously, he stated that he noticed I am up late scrawling in my journal and perhaps I might need some extra candles since the sun disappears so quickly in these winter months.
He knows me so well it is as if he has stripped me nude and stared into my soul. If only it were true. If he knew me that way, then perhaps I would not constantly be afraid of my own feelings towards him.
The night remained light, we talked, we laughed…and I wanted so desperately for him to reach for me, to hold me, to kiss me. The way the light from the fire caused his dark skin to glow set my heart aflame and I wanted nothing more in the world than to be with him. I felt selfish and wanton. However, he was a perfect gentleman, smiling at me tenderly, and holding me with those eyes made of golden honey.
Now that the bliss of the night is over I am left with that self-loathing of norm. I do not deserve him and I never will. I sit alone with a single candle and I drink. I will drink until I can sleep. I will drink and I will know that while being with him is Heaven, it is also Hell. This is my punishment for all the horrors that I have caused others. My salvation is always there, right before me and yet just out of reach.