I see you have come this far, to know. Curiosity perhaps? To find out the so-called truth. Where should I begin?

I suppose I should introduce myself. Me, I'm known as a regular 15 year old boy. Regular that is, in my eyes alone. I'm tall, lean, fair, noticed for my red hair and blue eyes. I am known as Tala. Tala you wonder… I am born with Russian blood. Does that change anything…I think not.

It's funny really. Why? You ask. Because people regard me as normal. They don't see what I see, but if they did, they would keep their distance.

My acquaintances, they look down disapprovingly at the 'other' ones. The short ones, the fat ones, the ones with problems. Ironically they are all the same. They do the same things; have the same lives, the generation of robots in my eyes. Me, I have a whole other life away from the hell those people call school. A 'split personality' as some might say. But to me it is all my life. I can see you look at me questioningly. Let me start from the beginning, and take you back two years ago from today. My first kill.

It was a night to remember, calm, serene and cloud free. The sky above was a blanket of stars. I had been walking aimlessly, through the streets of Russia. It was after dark. Not a soul to be seen. Then I saw him, he was beautiful. Green hair shone from underneath a beret. I did not know him, had never seen him. Yet I could feel a strange longing to taste the boy. My instincts kicked in as I calmly walked towards the boy. I pushed him towards the wall beside us. His face became pale, etched with the distinct look of fear. Fear that I thrived on. His eyes widened, possibly due to the manic look on my usually cold face, before tightly shutting. I closed my eyes too. I then revealed a silver sharp blade. I traced the contours of his veins with the sharp edge of my knife, cutting through his soft skin. Blood seeped from the wound and I stood in awe at this pure ruby-like substance, which had begun to appear before me. I licked the red liquid, tasting the boy, and I still remember to this day the sweet taste. The taste still lingers on my tongue. I turned back to the boy, who was whimpering, staring at his wrist which I had scarred. He was murmuring, still in shock. I could not hear his plea to leave him; I could not see the wrong doing. I saw the fear. I liked the fear, the power to be over him. The lust for blood, for power, to kill, overcame my whole body as a tingling sensation penetrated me. I couldn't hold back anymore, there was no need. I sliced my knife across the boy's torso in one swift movement. His body tensed and then fell limply against me. I pocketed his beret as a remembrance if you would call it that, of this moment of pure power. My power. Leaving him there I felt no regret. I still feel no regret. All that I felt up until this day is the intense longing for a harder challenge and to taste new fresh blood. I am searching for something I have not tasted. Something, a power, a force, drives me to kill. I see the look of horror on your face; I know what you are thinking. And I will explain. You are thinking that I am sadistic, twisted perhaps. Maybe so. I am no vampire though. It is but a hobby to me, the way people taste wine, looking for that new undiscovered taste. I too crave to find that. But I have found the being that carries what I require. The one they call Kai.

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I will write more, if enough psychos read this. Read and review.

And just so you know there may be Tala/Kai