The past two nights have been a blur, everything painted red, screams and pain all around me, and the strange pleasure I find in that. Crouching in the shadows, I listen to the people walking in the streets, trying to convince myself to stay hidden. I have tried to satisfy the fire in my throat, attempted to bribe it with crimson payments but to no avail. It rips through me, worsening with the passing of each human. With my hands trembling from the pain, I step into the street, searching for my next victim.
The person I see should stop me but my mouth waters despite his importance. Reflexively, I step toward him when I feel a cold hand wrap around my mouth. Hoping death is the one that has me; I do not struggle and let it pull me into the alley. As more distance grows between the humans and me, my thoughts become clearer and I realize it is not death that has me. This person saved me. Saved me from the pain and regret I was about to endure. And as my own father passes the alley, I look back at the blond woman holding me and I see my savior.
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