• April 3, 1865
    Heading to a place far away.

    “Alessandro tornare qui!”

    That is what my father called out as I ran from him. I was not going to look back. I had to get away from him first. I had spent all of my life with my father and mother breathing down my neck. I am not going to live with that any longer. They nearly drained me of my sanity. They were literally trying to brainwash me into doing exactly what they want. Their own son! For the love of god, how could they do that to me? Me! I’m their son, their only living heir to their precious thrown. They didn’t seem to care though; they just wanted to make sure I was the perfect Prince. And I am…just not to them. To the world….to the human world I am a great and noble young man. All the young women want me; every family is very kind to me hoping I will pass on a good word to mummy daddy. That was most likely the single thing they were actually proud I could do…Does he really think I’m that incompetent that I cannot be the right type of monster for him!? I not some newly turned human. I’m the god damn Vampire Prince! Alessandro Jonathan Callisto, Prince of Scars, Prince of Vampires!

    The notebook slammed shut in his lap, the pencil marking the page for when it would be written in again. The book was supposed to calm him down, not get him more worked up. He was going to be on this horrid smelling ship for the next months or so; he needed to conserve his energy if he wanted to last for these long months headed to the Americas. The country on the other side of the ocean, a place very far away from home. This country was in the middle of a civil war; his parents would never think he would head into a war. They probably thought he was too much of a coward. Ha! He would prove them wrong. . . “No don’t think about them. Your leaving them, you’re not proving anything to them anymore.” He had to keep telling himself this. He had spent to long living by their rules, always trying to reach their standards of what a Prince should say, think and do. Never once questioning his parents, but after what had happened last night he couldn’t do it any longer. His father had finally pushed him to the edge and he had slipped off, letting his other have get the better of him.

    Oh come now, is what did that bad? I helped you.

    And there he was that god damned beast showing his ugly voice again. He always had to show up at the wrong time. It was his style to do so. Something he prided himself over. It wasn’t just his perfect timing that got on Alessandro’s nerves, it was his voice too. It even frightened him sometimes. He couldn’t figure out how something that sounded so much like him could also sound so much like what the devil might sound like. Dark, deep, and almost like nails running down a chalk board. It always made chills run down his spine when he wasn’t expecting to hear from it. He knew this beast couldn’t be real, Alessandro would know….Wouldn’t he? This thing was in his head, it was something his mind cooked up to help him cope with tough situation…that’s what he had been telling himself at least. That it wasn’t real it was a simple figment of his imagination.

    I am no imagined thing in your head!

    Oh shut up! I’m trying to relax, I’m tired and would like some rest. Alessandro couldn’t figure out why he was so tired. He hadn’t really done anything that would have tired him. Just ran from his father…God you did not do it did you? It was silent for a moment. Neither of them speaking . . . Finally the beast broke the silence, revealing what actually had happen earlier that night . . .