• ~ March 4th
    It has been weeks since I have been what I would consider healthy. Since the first week, my older beloved sister, Eveline, has come to stay with me and assist me in anyway she can. I do not wish to trouble her like this, yet she gives me strength to continue fighting my rightfully assumed "disease". She is always checking on me on all times of day and making sure I am eating the never ending bowls of soup that she prepares for me. Her intentions are of the most kindness and she does a great deal of making you feel giddy and utmost happy even when you are sick in bed at all times of the day.
    This "disease" seems to worsen with every passing blink, breath, and second. The symptoms come and go, growing stronger with every return, showing me no mercy. It is a most curious disease, for it seems to have no origin and no information regarding my symptoms. Some of them explainable, while others seem most odd, even to doctors and physicians alike.
    My skin grows pale, for I have had to endure lack of sun for sometime now. The sun that shines through the illuminated curtains is painful to my eyes as well as my mental awareness and exposed extremities. I have found myself avoiding even the slightest ray of sunshine without even meaning to. People gather around lights giving them the feeling of security, while I, by myself, stay further back, not wanting to go into the light. The artificial lights of man do not seem to harm me like the sun does, but I prefer the dark now more than ever, always waiting hopefully for the moment when the sun disappears to be replaced by the cold, unforgiving, but inviting darkness. I have been recording this journal by night, for I am doing most of my sleeping during the day now. Another attempt at escaping the sun I suppose. If me assuming the style of a nocturnal life style is an answer to evading the sun, then I shall continue with this trend for many moons. For I do not look forward to going back to sunlight anytime in the near future.
    I do not posses any open and bleeding wounds, yet I sense, almost as if I can smell, the blood that runs through my veins, just below my skin. The very idea sifts through my brain everyday now. Looking down at my arms, I cannot help but notice the veins pulsating with life's sacred nectar. They very idea of this "blood awareness" does not only include myself. A family member, old friend, any living thing that crosses my path, shines like a beacon to my senses. Over-whelming and invigorating, giving me a sort of adrenaline rush, I find myself full of energy with the quickest pace. Their blood, possibly their heart itself, calls me to them. As if I must act upon something, but this action eluding my knowledge.
    My throat burns and singes all times of the day as if it thirsts for something, yet nothing can quench it. Various kinds of fruit juices, cow's milk, and even the simplest water can not sustain my thirst. The aching and burning, never being ceased or stopped, haunts me. The constant pain, the kind a thirsting man in the driest of deserts would feel. Liquid all around, but nothing slowing the burning and dryness. It's like a slow torture, the cure being found all around me, but for a problem incurable. I have been parched for sometime now, and am determined to find a substance or solution to give my throat what it desperately wants.
    My eating habits, strangely enough, have changed. I am having to eat softer foods, for my teeth ache with a pain that would be given by the devil himself. My molars seem to shrink and recede while my canine teeth are protruding more and extending downwards. My canine teeth, now being unguarded by the surrounding teeth, are more hazardous than ever before. Sharp and able to cut the thickest of items, I fear that I may puncture my lips upon them.
    My symptoms are just as they have been explained above. Hopefully, a day will come soon when a doctor can tell me what to do, or even tell me what I have picked up.

    ~ March 5th
    As I had mentioned before, my symptoms grew worse after my slumber today. The only good news today was that I my sister was ecstatic to tell me that she was going to knit me a blanket of my favorite colors. Dear Eveline, always looking out for me. God bless her and keep her, for she has been my savior here lately. I do not think I would be even this well off without her.
    Her soups have continued, but immediately after setting the bowl and spoon by my bedside, she was off to my guest room, where she was staying for the time being, to continue the construction of my knitted blanket of rich blood red and the darkest of black. Just the thought of covering myself with such a blanket made me smile and love my sister even more. Never has anyone ever done this much for me in my lifetime. I would be so lost and lonely without her.

    ~ March 6th
    It is of my worst misfortune to write of what has befallen me, but worse of my sister Eveline. Last night, after having completed my latest journal entry, a shriek filled the hallways of my spacious and dark house. I arose from bed to check on Eveline, this being no problem for I was already awake. I shuffled down the hall, as fast as my body aches would let me, to my sister's room. Upon opening the door and my entry, I observed a sight of the most horrific experience. Laying on the floor beside the bed, was Eveline, seemingly unconscious. This was nothing compared to what I saw next.
    Lodged in Eveline's right wrist, was one of her knitting needles. The needle had gone straight down, parallel with the rest of her arm, so that the cut went halfway down her lower arm. Blood was spilling out from the wound as if it was a newly dug spring. What happened next is almost too unbearable to put into words.
    I crouched down to examine her wrist when my throat gave a lurch. My eyes seemed to only focus in on the river of blood. My heart raced and my blood pressure rose dramatically. I began to sweat and could not bear it anymore. I knew what my throat wanted right then and there. My throat longed for the taste and sweet satisfaction of her blood.
    Unable to contain myself, I lifted her arm up slowly to my mouth. Using my sharpened canine teeth, I bit into her flesh to open the cut wider. Allowing more blood to spill out every second. I quickly thrust my mouth upon her wrist and drank, almost guzzling, her succulent blood. Her human blood. It was Eveline's blood. It was my beloved sister's blood.

    ~ March 7th
    This “disease” has caused the death of my Eveline. And not only that, but I fear it has sealed my dark and unavoidable future. Every night, my throat thirsts for what it should not receive. But I cannot help but obey it every time.