A Dead Heart
576 자
The day my heart started beating again, I thought I might die.
How many centuries had it been, since the blasted thing had pounded in my chest so? My hand rested over my sternum, drifting to the left as the cursed organ beat away.
"This is my curse against you. Not death evermore, but life.. life that you should live, experience all there is to it and its inevitable demise at the end of all things, knowing that your time is now finite, knowing that every wasted breath you lose your chance at happiness, at love, at family. You will be perpetually alone, forever sorrowful, watching from the outside. The very thing you've done to me in cursing me to love you." Her words rang in my ears as she disappeared. I would never be the same. Perhaps I had done her false in leading her on, hoping to use her for the magic her blood contained. It's a vampire's nature to be so short-sighted, eternally on the look-out for self first, whatever can benefit oneself is pursued relentlessly, damn the costs.
I should have expected these costs, as time marched on, and I watched myself, and the people around me, age. I searched at first, for the witch, but never found her. Perhaps that was what she meant by knowing the very thing I'd done to her, for it had been my plan as well, to disappear and never be found. It was hard to assimilate to the modern age. I had never had a use for food, for medical care, for a job. Why are these things so expensive? Even the occupation cost me in the form of clothing and technology necessary to perform it. Why must I have a phone to have a job? A physical address? It was too much, and I thought at first, that all the stress was what was affecting my recently returned to life body.
I relearned humanities lessons in cruelty and kindness, having to start from having practically nothing myself and ask for aid, and watch the reactions of my fellows, and when I could I extended a hand if possible because I'd once been there myself, but I never did find anyone to love, just as I'd been promised, despite attending a few weddings myself and watching new living beings be born and grow and die around me.
As the years passed by, I began to notice that the changes in me seemed to be distressingly more noticeable than those of my fellow living beings, and worse, my health seemed to be deteriorating quite quickly. The doctor I frequented had me on a range of expensive medications to keep my body barely functioning, and mentioned something about 'multiple organ failure' attempting to explain what was happening in my body as he arranged for me to eventually have in-home hospice care because the chance of receiving multiple new organs was not likely. I could not contain my mad laughter as the doctor looked on in worry.
It seems neither the witch, no I, had contemplated the disaster of reviving centuries old organs which had long since ceased to function. Apparently, a side-effect of having not been used for so long was that they atrophied and when forced to resume function, simply could not keep up.
It appeared as though the curse would be over much sooner than the witch had anticipated.
At least I will finally rest.
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