Now I can see it, what Haydn saw. I can see that I deserved to be abanoned.
What I had seen in Paul, the animal just beneath the surface, she saw in me.
She thought that she had created a monster. A common vampire. Those were the traits that I showed to her. And she didn’t want to stand by and watch me become that. It is not what she had sired me to be.
The look from that night lingers in my consciousness. It is my compass now. Before I take a single step, I think of whether it could earn that look of disapproval from her.
While I couldn’t comprehend it at the time, I understand now what she was thinking, and now every time my memory returns me to that night, to that encounter in the doorway, I hear Haydn’s silent question.
What have I done?
You would think that I would hate her, the way that she left me alone in an existence that I didn’t understand.
But I could never hate her.
Never.