The Evil Within

The darkness consumed me. I don’t remember leaving my estate or entering the hallway of her house. He was still over her, glistening, exhausted from the attack. Her body lay in a heap below him, her eyes unblinkingly fixed on some point beyond his face. Only the low sickening wheeze that escaped her swollen lips was an indication of life.

The short hairs at the back of his head stood on end and he turned slowly to face me. He smiled and spread his arms, welcoming my attack. I lunged and felt his considerable strength as I knocked him off Ngozi. He struggled for a moment, before I broke his arms and tore flesh from his neck. The hot sticky liquid against my lips awakened feelings in me and I gave in to the thirst, violently draining the life from him.

I felt her eyes on me, horrified, pleading with me to stop before she finally lost consciousness. Her body was broken and battered, her heartbeat barely discernable and so my decision to save her was not even in question, it never was. Still, what I intended to do came with a significant price. I only hoped in time, she would forgive me.

In the days following the attack she fought a high fever and nightmares that sometimes ended with me. I busied myself with removing evidence of the attack from her house and tending to her. I rarely left her side. Finally, on the evening of the tenth day she opened her eyes and looked at me, conscious and tentative. She tried to force a smile, but everything came flooding back and with them the tears. She looked away and reached for my hand and after a few moments turned back to me and smiled.

“Thank you.” She said, startled at first by the strength of her voice. I felt grateful and undeserving of her gratitude.

“How do you feel?” I asked, unable to smile. Instinctively she felt her face and sat up looking at her hands.

“How do I look?” She asked shakily.

“You…you’re beautiful.” I said.

“Nicholas…can you get me a mirror?” She asked, barely controlling the panic in her voice.

Without a word, I got her a hand held mirror. I stood at the side of the bed as she studied her face in disbelief. Then the tears returned.

“My God Nicholas, I have no scars. I’m a doctor…I know what happened to me. What have you done?”

“It was the only thing I could do.” I said meeting her gaze, unable to hide my shame. “This is what I am Ngozi. I am sorry, but I could not let you die.”

She turned the mirror down on the bed and looked away. “So what am I now?” She asked.

“I’m not certain…you are changed, but not in the same way as others, like me. Like us.”

She turned the mirror to her face again and opened her mouth looking for any sign of what she saw of me, when I was covered in the blood of her attacker.

“There is much we must discuss.” I said evenly. “I am so sorry Ngozi, but by saving you I also protected the life you now carry.” As she wrestled with conflicting emotions, I found little comfort in what lay ahead…for both of us.

Another Evil

Lincoln Steele was an unhappy man. He had seen his mother and father attacked by one of my kind and killed. He felt little more than envy for the creature’s power and never mentioned what he witnessed to another living soul. He was six years old at the time.

I will never know for certain if evil in human form is the result of nature, nurture or if indeed some are just born with a chemical imbalance that pre determines evil deeds…maybe my kind seduces the disillusioned into darkness. Whatever the explanation, Lincoln was evil and clear about his beliefs in a way that was enviable.

He worked endlessly on his body and senses, training, preparing for a moment he was sure would come. He believed he would be given the opportunity to become what he had seen, or in killing it something more. One thing distracted him from his single minded pursuit, Ngozi. He was enchanted by her beauty, obsessed with claiming her as his own.

Lincoln first saw Ngozi walking to a clinic in his area where she volunteered twice a week. He followed her from that day. He was at her father’s funeral, outside her house when she got home and near my estate during her frequent visits. It is how I became a part of his surveillance. It didn’t take him long to decide that he hated me, that I was no better than massa from days still fresh in the consciousness of the recently freed. It incensed him that Ngozi spent so much time with me, and that I was able to make her smile when he felt he was more worthy of making her happy.

For a long time he watched and waited. He summoned the courage eventually to say good morning and good afternoon, always polite, non-descript. She answered of course, even smiled and Lincoln took this as an acknowledgement of their connection. She was used to the attention from men, and there was nothing uniquely different from their casual encounters that stood out in her mind. Steele was convinced though, he would have her soon enough and there was nothing I or anyone else could do about it.

It was June 28^th 1981 a date in my recent past that I will never forget. It had not rained in weeks, but on that afternoon there was a heavy shower that stopped a short time before Ngozi was ready to leave. We talked about her work and the exciting possibilities now open to the country because of their oil revenue. She was so happy. The air was cool and there was a sweet scent of lemon grass in the wind. The sun was just beginning to set and Ngozi wanted to enjoy walking on the wet grass alone with her thoughts. The house was only twenty minutes away and I would usually accompany her, but it was still daylight and she was well and strong and happy and I let her walk alone…only she was not alone.

I still remember the music of her hips as she walked away, turning just before she disappeared to wave and smile, her beautiful face framed by a neat, medium afro. Minutes later I was overwhelmed by dark sensations. I felt a cold chill, despite the warmth and humidity and then I was brought to my knees by the images. I could hear the muffled scream and see the powerful figure straddling her, battering her with both fists. His buttocks were exposed, thrusting and then his fists were around her neck and her pleas were sandwiched between gasps for air. Her eyes were now fixed on some point beyond him and then on me. Ngozi!

Ngozi

I helped her change her family home into something more comfortable for her without losing the character of her parents. She became my new project and I suppose I became hers.

Ngozi and I didn’t talk about her declaration to me before her father’s death. We simply fell into a deeper, more comfortable relationship with each other. I saw the effect my blood had on her. She was a bit stronger and quicker than the average woman her age and size and her ability to concentrate was extraordinary. If she was aware of this she didn’t acknowledge it and I felt enough guilt not to broach the subject.

She spent her days at the general hospital in Port of Spain and her evenings teaching me about the emerging culture of her people. I answered her questions about my history and things that I experienced before, and after, becoming what Trinidadians call a soucouyant.

My kind stay unchanged physically for so long that I am fascinated by the normal changes that come with being truly alive. I had seen Ngozi change for a precocious little girl to a beautiful, confident woman and it almost felt like she had become someone else. But whenever I looked into her eyes I could still see that little girl and the remains of innocence. I envied this in her and her ability to feel so much, to see the good in others…to find something that redeemable in a creature like me.

I was careful not to go to all the places she wanted to take me, especially not in the daytime. This beautiful island built on the sweat and sacrifice of African slaves, East Indian indentured laborers and the Chinese seeking opportunities was becoming a beautiful melting pot of people, culture and food. She reintroduced me to the music of the island and described the taste of her favorite foods so that I had an understanding of taste to accompany the wonderful sights and smells. My love for her and this island deepened.

I tell myself that with my extraordinary abilities and my extensive experience I should never be surprised by anything that humans do. Maybe if I was more observant of those who were paying attention to the young doctor I would have been able to prevent the tragic events that were yet to occur. But alas, fate was not finished with either one of us…