It’s utterly exquisite.
Better thananythingI’ve ever tasted.
Better thananythingI could have imagined.
I drink.
And drink.
And drink.
Her muffled cries fade beneath my hand as the world narrows to heat, hunger, and the impossible relief of finally being full, of finally being whole, and I don’t know where the line between mercy and monstrosity disappeared.
Only that it did.
The hunger roars in approval, satisfaction spreading through me, filling the void inside me with liquid heat that carries life force, energy, and everything I’ve been missing since I woke up in that warehouse. Each swallow brings strength, clarity, the sense of pieces clicking into place as my body finally gets what it needs.
Trudy struggles at first, her hands pushing weakly at my shoulders, her body thrashing in my grip. But I’m stronger than her, so much stronger, that it’s not even a contest. Her movements slow quickly as I drain her, as her life pours into me with every desperate pull of my mouth.
Her heartbeat falters.
Slows.
Stutters.
Stops.
I come back to myself all at once, awareness slamming into me with crushing force as the bloodlust recedes and horror rushes in to fill the space it leaves behind.
I release her, and she crumples to the floor, lifeless, her eyes staring at nothing, her throat torn and bloody, her body empty of everything that made her a person only minutes ago.
Like Jake.
Just like Jake, except this time I’m the one standing over the body.
Oh fuck… I killed her.
The truth crashes down on me, inescapable and absolute.
This isn’t theoretical anymore.
This isn’t some nightmare I can wake up from.
I just murdered someone. Drained her completely dry. Ended her life to satisfy a hunger I couldn’t control.
Blood covers my hands, my mouth, my clothes. I can taste it on my tongue, sweet, coppery, and wrong, so completely and utterly wrong now that the feeding frenzy has passed and reality has returned with vicious clarity.
I did this.
I’m a monster!
The scream finally rips free, tearing out of me in a sound that barely sounds human, raw, shattered, choking on horror with nowhere to go and no way to claw time backward.
I stumble away from the break room, rushing toward the kitchen and slamming into the counter hard enough to rattle plates. Someone shouts behind me, a confused “Hey!” turning sharp as I vault the half-door into the kitchen, the smell of grease, coffee, and hot oil crashing into me all at once.
“Jesus!” one of the cooks yells as I burst through, eyes wide, spatula clattering to the floor.
I don’t slow down.
