I was born dead. Cold, blue, and not breathing, I was sent to a mortuary within minutes of my birth.
My first memory was the change. Paralyzed, my tiny eyes fought to open. My little lungs struggled to pull in a breath as a piercing pain spread throughout my entire being. Desperate for the pain to stop, I tried to wail, let someone know I was alive. The pain felt as if it must have raged through me for months, but it might have been minutes or seconds.
I opened my deep, violet eyes and screamed with a mouth that was full of white, pointy little teeth.
That's all I remember, but my parents have supplied the rest for me. After years of nightmares based off this first memory, my parents finally told me the rest of my story. Exactly two weeks after my death, the owner of the mortuary heard a screaming, crying noise coming from my little casket. He opened the lid and was mortified to see a pale, tiny baby screaming in the place of the blue, dead one he had put in the casket. He gawked at my little teeth, and was appalled to see my purple eyes stare back at him. When he was done gaping at me he rushed to the phone to notify the doctors and my parents that I was alive.
My parents told all of this to me when I was about nine or ten.
I constantly crave blood, and I've never lost any of these pointy, white teeth that grow as I do. I'm 16 now and it's been hard to get blood without hurting anyone. There are wild boar in my neighborhood, and I've been living off of their blood, but my parents want to move into a condo downtown.
What should I do?
And more importantly, What Am I?