photo from before his life changed, when he could smile in the sun
My name is Rodolfo Otávio, and I have a story to tell. It's a story of tragedy, addiction, redemption, and the darkest depths of the supernatural. I was raised in a household filled with animals. My mother was a veterinarian, dedicated to healing creatures, great and small, and my father was a dog trainer, imparting his wisdom and love for animals to me. Growing up, our home was a sanctuary for all sorts of creatures, and I developed a deep bond with them.
As I grew older, I pursued a career in cosmetic medical esthetics, following in my mother's footsteps of healing, albeit in a different capacity. Life seemed perfect—I had a beautiful wife and a lovely child. But fate can be a cruel mistress, and everything changes instantly.
It was a dark, stormy night when tragedy struck. We were driving home from visiting my in-laws when a drunk driver slammed into our car. The impact instantly killed my wife and child, while I miraculously survived, albeit with serious injuries. The pain I felt, both physically and emotionally, was unbearable. I used pain pills to cope, seeking solace in their numbing effects.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and I found myself trapped in the clutches of addiction. The pain pills became my only solace, the only way to escape the haunting memories and the overwhelming grief. I lost my job, my friends, and my sense of self. I hit rock bottom.
But something inside me refused to surrender to the darkness. I mustered every ounce of willpower and decided to reclaim my life. I joined Narcotics Anonymous meetings, seeking support from others who had battled similar demons. I exercised, channeling my pain and frustration into physical exertion.
As I slowly regained control over my life, I longed for companionship. This presence could offer unwavering loyalty and love. Then, I stumbled upon an English Mastiff female dog, abandoned and alone. She became my saving grace, my constant companion. I named her Luna, and together we embarked on a journey of healing and transformation.
One evening, I walked through the park after attending an NA meeting. Little did I know that this seemingly ordinary night would lead me anew into the heart of darkness. As I wandered deeper into the garden, I stumbled upon a chilling scene—an underground Vampire Sabbat Shovel party. The Sabbat vampires were mercilessly burying homeless individuals, knocking them unconscious and transforming them into vampires.
Before I could react, I was ambushed by what I found out later was the Sabbat. First, they violently drained me of my blood, their cold, insatiable hunger as my pulse echoed slowly in my ears. Then, desperate to survive, I instinctively drank hungrily when their leader forced their tainted blood into my veins, initiating my transformation into a vampire. Finally, they discarded my weakened body into a hastily dug grave already half-filled with dirt from burying many others beneath me, leaving me to fight back from the brink of death with a frenzied hoard buried not that much further beneath me as I came back into myself.
Summoning every ounce of strength, I dug myself out of the grave, emerging as a creature of the night. But the struggle had just begun. I teetered on the edge of a blood frenzy, overwhelmed by a thirst I could barely control. My primal instincts fought against my human sensibilities, threatening to consume me entirely. Clawed hands were boiling out of the ground behind me with eyes lost of all intelligence, only raw animal fury. The will that I had found in overcoming my addictions I now harnessed to stay my madness.
I ran and ran as I calmed down; I decided to go to my workplace, where I was a medical esthetician physician, to tend to my wounds, and I was achingly hungry; Hangry was not an adequate word; I could eat that leftover Chinese I left in the fridge from earlier today.
I was so hungry I was almost beyond sense; I decided to eat first before cleaning; I headed to the fridge and tried to eat not only mine but everyone else's food and drink. Soon I was running to the trash room and puking it all out. But I found a sinister solution: drinking the discarded blood from medical waste in the bin there. The smell had drawn me in as I hauled liposuction waste bags out and sucked, congealing blood off the settled fats. It was a gruesome necessity; my hunger had no end. The taste of blood was so delicious while my mind repulsed at how gross my new existence was and what a lifeline this waste was to keep me from completely losing myself.
My hunger was almost satiated; I could think at least; my wounds were not to be found as I scrubbed off dirt and blood in the shower near the surgery; throwing out my clothes with the medical waste to be incinerated, I donned scrubs.
However, I knew I couldn't rely solely on the macabre sustenance I found at work. So I returned home to think but found Luna, my beloved English Mastiff, unaware of the danger I posed to her. Overwhelmed by the scent of her warm blood, I nearly succumbed to the darkness within me, ready to drain her dry as it would not fill my thirst.
But in a moment of clarity, I realized the horror of what I was about to do. Tears streaming down my face, I recoiled in horror, fighting against my monstrous desires. I couldn't bear the thought of harming the one being who had shown me unwavering love and loyalty.
With a newfound determination, I made a desperate decision. I sliced my flesh and allowed my blood to drip into Luna's mouth, hoping it would save her from the brink of death, just as it had saved me.
As Luna stirred, her panting breaths growing steady again, I wept. I had come to terms with my new existence as a vampire, understanding the horrors and sacrifices that came with it. Yet, at that moment, I also realized I still had the capacity for love, compassion, and protection.
Now, Luna and I navigate this shadowy world together, fighting against our primal instincts and the darkness surrounding us. We are bound by blood, united by a love that transcends the boundaries of life and death. And though our journey is fraught with danger and uncertainty, we will face it together, with the flickering light of hope guiding our way.
And as the flickering light of the sun rose, I felt a burning sensation as the first dawn twilight from the windows of my house fell on my skin. I realized something new and horrible about my new existence. Flailing, desperate to hide my unique condition and deciding I needed time to think, I called in sick before hiding in the bathroom with no windows, stuffing towels under the door, and falling asleep in its hard tub.
When I awoke the next night, I felt half myself; I went to the clinic to drink the day's waste and was almost satiated. However, when I encountered an unconscious homeless lady on my way from the clinic, I was drawn to her neck and found myself biting. She gasped and froze in pleasure, and soon I discovered I could drain just a quart or two without killing.
Even after drinking to my fill, I still felt weak; I returned to the disturbed soil of my vampiric rebirth. I thought to contemplate my new existence, but it was as if drawn to it; I just wanted desperately to lay in that soil and fall asleep. I eventually pried myself from the area and returned home to sleep in my bathtub during the day.
I woke barely hungry but feeling even more horrible, and something was pulling me again to the place of my rebirth; I passed the homeless lady I supped on before ignoring her as I had a new draw to stare longingly at the soil of my vampiric revival, just wanting to lay in it and fall asleep. Staring at it, fighting my instinctual urge to bury myself in it and sleep, I realize, I need that soil!
I looked for something to transport dirt in and found a wheeled trash cart. Tipping it over to empty it of its trash, I go to the ground, digging the vampire hoard loosened soil with my hands and dumping it in the cart until it's filled. I then cart it all the way home, going in through the back sliding doors to the bathroom and filling the tub with dirt.
I leave the trash cart in my living room, feed Luna, and return to bury myself in the cool loam soil in my tub, giving into blissful sleep early.
Soon over the next few months, I realized I could seduce those I could find at night, going in as if to kiss their necks and instead sucking the blood of life as they froze in pleasure. So I stepped back from my medical practice and found a physician that could fill my role during the day, barely managing to keep a house under my feet; it helped that I no longer had an expensive restaurant habit eating up all my money, and the insurance money that I hadn't touched before.
I soon ran into another vampire while hunting for the next to seduce; I could hear their lack of pulse and noticed their pale looks and predator's eyes. I watched them as they trolled the night, looking for a likely meal. I was slightly angered that they were on my usual hunting grounds. Still, I calmed myself, telling myself I didn't know the rules of this interaction. How do vampires organize? How I was brought about as a vampire seemed messy and disaster-prone, it seemed designed to cause havoc. But I had heard nothing of it in the news; there wasn't even police tape around the disturbed ground, just a fresh planting of flowers like the hole was made on purpose. So some organization must hide these events from everyday people. And if an organization exists, there are politics, agreements, and understandings. But my creation was messy... so a separate group must thumb its nose at the ones that hide the mess...
The trick now is how to survive inferring all this; I decided to leave and think about it. So I sit at home and think, do I want to be aligned with the messy ones or the ones that clean things up? And the place where I live must be filled with the ones who clean up problems, and those who like chaos must be an invading party. So if I want to continue living here and keep my business, I should align myself with the ones that like to clean up problems and hide that the chaotic ones made me. So now to a story, I shall make...
I will say in my story that I was a few months old when the one that created me failed to return on the night of my actual vampiric creation. This way, it could be inferred my creator died on the night of that invasion. They had not taught me much or shown their face or even their name; they told me how to hunt quietly and that it was important not to leave a mess on pain of my destruction, and there were a bunch of rules I must learn once I have proven I can do that. But that was where my education cut off. I will not mention the dirt, which is a weakness, and it is not good to present weakness; I should also secure access to it with backup locations and hidden supplies! It may be a common weakness, but I should find out without revealing mine, and I'd be well to protect myself so they can not deprive me of my soil...
Backstory To be Continued, Camarilla and the politics thereof...
