When I changed, the vampire that sired me explained things to me. I was stronger, faster, more durable, had a range of abilities unobtainable for humans such as shapeshifting, and no longer needed to sleep. All the "lore" surrounding vampires were fallacies spread by them to divert suspicion. Running water? Not a problem. Garlic? A delicious addition to any meal. Sunlight? Actually less deadly than when I was human, and definitely none of that sparkly fairy bullshit that was popularised by that one terrible series of books and films. Crosses or other holy symbols? Ineffective. While no longer impeded by the creep of time or illness, we can still be killed - though it is considerably more difficult than killing a human. The one truth is the thirst for blood. We do not die without it, but it intensifies until we begin to lose all reason. Go long enough without, and we devolve into animalistic creatures that hunt and feed without caution. A fully grown adult can sustain me for roughly a year if I fully drain them, before I begin to feel adverse effects; small feedings more frequently is better, as I can avoid killing that way.

He also imparted a few warnings: do not feed indiscriminately; avoid killing the innocent; do not feed on high profile individuals; always wipe the memory of those I feed from; do not expose us by using my powers carelessly. As long as I didn't risk exposing our society, I could do whatever I wanted. His final words before leaving me to figure out what I wanted to do with my new life were cryptic at the time: "Remember, you are what you eat." Vague bastard could have explained it more clearly! Instead, I am now realising exactly what those words mean.

I've spent the last 150 years as a vampire, learning everything I could, dabbling in sports, making a name for myself before "dying in a freak accident" and starting a new life with a new face. I've been a professional athlete, a university professor, a cardiovascular surgeon, and myriad other things over the course of my life. And throughout it all, I've stuck to hunting the scum of the earth for my sustenance. Murderers, rapists, abusers, you name it I hunted and killed them. One a year, the worst of those who escape the paltry justice of the mortals. I suppose I fancied myself a bit of a champion of justice, an avenger if you will. I was doing a service.

Recently, though, I've realised that I've changed. I'm no longer hunting and quickly killing them. I'm stalking them, always at the edge of their perception - an ever present shadow that vanishes the moment they're consciously aware of me. I find myself enjoying the fear I inspire within them, the look of terror in their eyes as I finally corner them, the desperation as they try to fight off the inevitability of their punishment. I torment them, breaking their resistance and will with my superior abilities. One of my powers is illusionary visions; I can make them see things. So I show them the greatest horrors of the various hells that humans have believed in throughout history. I take the form of terrifying demons and creatures that should exist only in nightmares.

It seems a diet of the sadistic has had an impact on me. Personally, I don't see this as a problem.