I saw a dead guy once.
He was sprawled on the street, guts hanging, tongue lolling out, eyes starting at nothing. His hands were already stiff when I found him, maggots were already feasting on his flesh. He was the first corpse that I had ever seen, and he was already starting to rot by the time I found him.
I was fifteen when I ate him.
I didn't want to, I never wanted to. But when my hunger comes by, I don't decide if I would eat or not. All that exists is the cold flesh in my hands, the gnawing at my belly, the slow emergence of my fangs, the need to consume whatever I had in front of me. Ever since that night I've only eaten twenty times in the last thirty years, Doctor - Yet I don't feel worse about any of it.
One time there was a girl at school - beautiful, radiant like the sun, with blue eyes that you could stare into for hours. I met her at a party, though I'd been looking at her for a long time before that. She always had a smile ready, as if the entire world was a game to her. I loved her for that, still do. She was the only girl I'd ever loved. Her name was Sam. Samantha. And she was the only one out there who was just like me.
She never told me that she was. People like us never really want to tell. I would pretend to sleep every time she went out at night, her fangs extended just beneath her chin. She never brought it up with me when she came back in the early morning, smelling of blood and death. It only got worse during those last few months, when she would leave the house with a knife in her hand and she would come home, tired, her clothes covered in blood, her eyes just a bit wilder as the tiniest trace of her fangs retracted behind her lips. I only knew why later. When she told me she was pregnant, I kept my fears secret. I prayed that it was only a coincidence, that whatever was causing Sam to kill more and more frequently in search of food had nothing to do with the child growing inside her.
We were running, then. Two months before, we saw your people watching us. Her at home, me at work, following us. Stalking us. We left home soon after we noticed, moving from motel to motel as we drove across the country, scared of what might happen to us if you caught up. She was already big at two months when I left her to feed. In the six years that I'd known her, I never told her that I was like her. I… I just didn't want to scare her away. I was so afraid of losing the mother of my child. Surely you understand that, don't you? God, I was twenty-four then. Twenty-four, Doctor. I never knew what to do whenever she bled, or when her belly swelled faster than we expected. Every time that happened, the fear would always creep back into my mind, the fear that it was because we were the same, and it was affecting Sarah in ways that I could never imagine. I was young, I didn't know. I didn't know. I didn't know until the day my daughter ate her way out of her mother's womb.
She was dead when I came back. Sarah had eaten Sam's face, her legs, her belly, torn out her neck. She was just a newborn, but when I saw her she looked like she was three. She had her mother's face, the same smile, the same wild look in her blue eyes. When I opened the door she was looking at me, fangs bared, her mother's blood smeared all over her face, dripping off her mouth. She was growing by the minute, but her gaze never left mine. That was when I realized that she could never be normal, not like me or her mother or anyone out there like us. My daughter was a monster.
I don't know what came over the both of us then. She charged at me, her fangs extended, her claws outstretched. She was like an animal, a beast, the hunger that had caused her to kill my wife now driving her to kill me. I caught her just as she leaped, her claws tearing at my face. I responded by letting my fangs out… and then I tore out her throat, just like she did to her mother. I let her bleed out on the floor, letting her drown in her own blood as her mother's blue eyes looked into mine. She was my daughter, Doctor. My own daughter, and I slaughtered her like an animal.
The agents caught up to us half an hour later. They saw me crying as I cradled the dead body of my daughter just as my wife lay mutilated a few feet behind me. I didn't resist when they took me. I didn't defend myself when they drove me here and threw me into a cell. I know what I've done. You know what I've done. I'm a monster. Just like my wife. Just like my daughter.
I'm turning forty-five in a few days. I haven't eaten a thing for five years. I have been sentenced to an eternity of imprisonment for the slaughter of my child, though they should be sentencing me for the deaths of so many more. And they will be, soon enough. They're moving me underground, Doctor, do you know that? To a place where I can't hurt anyone. Not anymore. Tomorrow, Doctor, when they take me out of this cell, I'll be descending as the last monster on Earth goes to Hell.