I never got close to too many people.

And even most of them didn't quite understand me.

They'd always ask, "James, if you hate religion so much then what keeps you going?"

I'd always chuckle as an answer or shrug my shoulders because I couldn't reveal the truth too loudly.

Blood.

That's what kept me going when things seemed to be at their lowest.

The smell of it, the feel of it on my hands and body, the sight of it. I loved everything about it.

Well, except for the taste. Coppery and warm, the taste disgusted me.

The screams and sobs and pleads of the victims just fueled my fire.

I felt no compassion.

I was sure I was a monster but I didn't care. Still don't.

Embrace who you are, I always say.

My wife got that.

Or at least I thought she did.

She shared my blood lust but she mostly lusted after my money. Can't say that I blame her, though.

The money was always nice, but it never gave me as much pleasure as I thought it would.

Money, sex, love. None of it measured up.

I loved blood like Miss Evers loved a good starched shirt.

Miss Evers, now there's a class act.

Loyal, clean, and ever so kind. Miss Evers may be the only person in the world to understand me with absolutely no judgement behind her eyes. For that, I'll never be able to repay her.

I feel no remorse about the lives I have taken or the pain that I've caused but on some level I do wish that Miss Evers would have gotten out of this hotel alive. But she seems happy enough by my side for the rest of eternity.

Now there are strangers in my hotel; drug addicts and policemen. They cause too much noise for my liking. But, they should provide excellent entertainment.

That male model has a brain the size of a marble but he seems to share my blood lust so we'll see where that path takes us.

I thought that death may quiet my craving for flesh, for screams, for pain, for blood. But it lingers. I don't think it will ever leave me. I'm quite okay with that.