Just another dead junkie teen

by **Tyler Bishop** Wed Jun 03, 2015 9:39 pm

Excerpt from Corbin Grayson's Journal
- - -

July 16th 2014 - I can still vividly remember the first day Nicole came to see me. She was so young, having just turning 18, and so full of life. She had a natural charisma, a beautiful smile and a contagious melodic laugh. She loved life, and enlivened any room she entered. She was a poster child for happiness and innocence.

...and breaking her has been more delicious than I ever could have imagined.

My feeding preference has always created challenges; a gift from the bastard who forced his embrace upon me. For weeks after I was turned he forced on me the blood of his drug-riddled flock. Each one of them had a myriad of drugs and chemicals swimming through their veins, each with distinctive and addictive flavors. I became hooked, an addict for addicts if you will. The more tainted and destroyed the vessel: the more satisfying the meal.

At first I would simply seek out these creatures. The streets had no shortage of them and the telltale signs always made them easy prey, but it lacked something. Soon after I became the supplier; I'd draw them into a closely knit group and freely distribute all manner of chemical poisons to them and feasted as they rotted.

It was then that I realized the true addiction, the true vice I held. It was not just the taint in the blood but the savoring of the fall; watching these people slowly destroy their lives one powdery white line or one mind-numbing injection at a time was what gave me a rush like no other.

That was when I descended to be more than just a provider and encourager. That was when I started to choose my targets, the more virtuous the better, and slowly watch them drown their lives away as they became hooked on whatever I pushed on them. These weren't addicts stumbling in the streets. These were strong, successful people. People with lives full of happiness and plenty to live for. People like my parents.

And just as the life was suddenly ripped from my parents so would it be from them. With my guidance and manipulation I would tear them down and push them over the edge, driving their descent into addiction and ruin. Taking everything from them as everything has always been taken from me. Letting them feel the hell I live with each night...

- - -

I looked over at the shell of the girl shivering on the couch, her knees pulled up tight against her chest. Her eyes, once bright and shining were now drained of all their light. Where once a girl existed who would light up a room just by being herself, now stood a girl who would often start a sentence laughing and end that same sentence in tears.

Words can't begin to describe how satisfied I felt with how far she had fallen.

I recalled how Nicole had almost escaped it all. She had told me she'd given her life to religion and wanted to stop. She began to refuse the men I regularly sent to the small apartment I set her up in and she had quit injecting heroin, her drug of choice. She even got a minimum wage job and moved out of the seedy apartment complex. I relished the challenge and eagerly encouraged her to share with me her hopes of her salvation.

Poor thing, she was definitely not prepared to discuss these matters with me. I decided to destroy her faith entirely.

It wasn't long before she was having trouble making ends meet and I began my work. I pointed out the inconsistencies in the Bible she held so dear and the hypocrisy of the church she attended. After spending so much time with her I knew her and how best to manipulate her into seeing things my way. Slowly, inevitably, she began to yearn for her old lifestyle.

I lured her back in slowly at first. Sometimes she would protest, but she knew she wouldn't earn any money if she didn't do it. She began servicing the men I'd send to her again, fully falling back into prostitution and, to cope with that, she eagerly sought the release of drugs as well. The first night she started back on heroin I fed on her and it was the sweetest thing I had tasted in quite some time. The taint in her blood and the feeling of hopelessness about her intoxicated me.

After that night she bounced from house to house, living with random older men who'd use her for a time and then send her on her way. She'd always seek me out though, a shivering, broken mess of an addict needing her fix, and I always provided.

But, as always the case, the repetition gave way to boredom and the suffering of Nicole was now just another mundane fact of existence. It no longer excited me, her blood no longer overwhelmed me. Just as with the men she had been used by and that had put her out I was no longer interested in what she had to offer.

I focused back on her now as I sit on the couch next to her and wrap my arm around her, pulling her shivering little body close. I grab the needle from the end table and fill it with far too much heroin for any one person to take. She watches either unable or unwilling to stop me, which one I'll never know, and I slide the needle home into a bulging vein on her arm and empty the contents into her.

I watch as her eyes begin to roll back into her head and as her body starts to shake more violently. I know it's time. With no warning I dig my fangs deep into the shallow shell of a girl and drain the last bit of spark she had left.

Once I have my fill I unceremoniously let her body slide from the couch and collapse on the floor and idly reflect on how she had actually died long ago. This was merely a mercy I provided to her to end the last bit of suffering before heading off to find my next conquest.

I step over the body without a care; just another dead junkie teen.

by **P. "Pike" Kelly** Thu Jun 04, 2015 2:41 pm

Vicious, mate. I'm sure with the specification of a "hereditary" feeding restriction the narrator is meant to be Ventrue, but all I could think was that I was reading the best, most personal description of the methods and secular goals of a Follower of Set or Serpent of the Light I've come upon.

by **Tyler Bishop** Thu Jun 04, 2015 3:44 pm

Actually it was a city Gangrel. There is a whole huge backstory on him, it was a character I played a while ago, but the short of it was he was embraced without permission and hidden by his sire in the slums of the city and got addicted to the blood he was forced to live off of.

I thought the addiction made the character far more interesting and fun to play and gave him more depth that fit with the situation he was born of.

by **P. "Pike" Kelly** Thu Jun 04, 2015 7:13 pm

So his sire set him up that way for politics, not any supernatural requirement. That definitely makes for an interesting kind of genealogy of addiction and abuse.

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