It's been almost a year since my fall from grace. I've stopped fighting my blood lust. These hands of mine that once healed, tear flesh from bone now. I never believed it before, but there is power with each kill I make. I make no discrimination with my victims. Children are more sweeter, but their memories and life essence is so puny that it's hardly a satisfying meal. True, maddness has taken root, but I no longer care. In every mortal that I kill, I see her eyes, those violet blue eyes that once captivated me and enslaved me. She was once so fragile and beautiful or so I thought. I thought she would be mine, but when she stood there laughing as the last of what used to be my heart shattered at her feet, I welcomed the maddness! I welcomed the blood! I found rapture in the kill! Gone is the good doctor, and all that is left is Warren. Mordacai and his pathetic attempts to bring light back into my non exisistent soul is laughable. The council is a joke! Even now I feel the presence of their Guardians, but they won't have me just yet. With every passing moment, every tick of the clock, I hear hearts beating outside my door. I hear their blood flowing in their veins. The beast in me roars inside my head and it's something I can't ignore, something I won't ignore! Still those violet-blue eyes haunt me. I do not know why I spared her life, other than to let her live with the agony. Perhaps I'll change my mind and hunt her down-perhaps I'll drain her slowly. Perhaps I'll make her feel every bit of pain she inflicted upon me. There is much to think about. Much to do.