36. Addiction

The clock ticked away, but I didn't mind.
Steady, steady, otherwise you'll lose it.
If you lack the patience, then don't even start it.

It's been like this since forever. Everyday I go out and collect.
There isn't any other way I'd survive, anyway. I have to do it every single day.
I wonder when I became such a monster.

Hey, won't you help me? Won't you help me pull my own strings?
Sometimes I ask them, but they're already too dead to reply. I could never risk asking a living person about it.

I'm ancient, yes, but that doesn't mean I'm wise. I'm just a common guy, doing my thing. Everyday, to survive.

I followed the guy through dark streets. I hid in the shadows and walked silently. He would never notice me, right? That was what I counted on.
It was painful, but delightful at the same time. I repeated this day over day, only the person in front of me changing, and with it the streets and places. Sometimes I'd be in the dark all night, sometimes I'd cross a park or walk the length of some rich looking avenue.
Either way it didn't change, not enough.

It's an addiction, yes. To drink the juice of a recently released soul... There is nothing quite like it. Sometimes I think, this will be my last, but it never is. My whole body starts to ache, my heart threatens to stop and my lungs feel like they're about to implode. With a dizzy head I always set off, looking for the next victim. Looking for my way out.

If you can't do it every night then don't start it. This isn't something you can quit of grow out of. You'll need a soul for each day, and sometimes two won't be enough. And you have to be ready to face death. Because if you're killing, death will know you too well and come after you.
So don't hold on to life much.
Even if I seem to be here since forever it's lot more like existing than living.

It can't be anyone. No. That does not work. Only the best of the best shall do. The ones with shiny auras, lived souls. A pure and innocent soul tastes like paper. It has to be a guilty soul, a soul that committed so many sins there's no right place for it in the world anymore. Or a soul that's suffered so much it can never be beautiful again.
But nothing is as delicious as a soul that went through a near death experience, but those are far too rare.

I finally found the right spot, an alley just ahead and jumped onto my target, subduing him.
As I dragged him, unconscious, I relinquished in the thought of what was to come.

He was a cheater and a thief, a con man. I knew this as I drank him, wholly, empty his body until it was nothing but a shell.
He wasn't dead, though, not yet. Just soulless. His eyes would never shine again. But that would be living the job incomplete. I knew better than that and stabbed the man, twice or thrice, through the heart.
His red blood disgusted and fascinated me at the same time. I tasted it and realized it had a faint connection to the soul.
I wondered about what that meant.
Maybe the soul and body aren't that divided. Maybe they start rubbing off one another.
Either way, they were both pretty delicious, though the blood was weaker.
I decided to change my habits.
Maybe I'd have to kill less.