I could feel the pain of hunger welling up inside me, the feeling of dryness burning through every vein in my body. I picked Hank up off the dirty cabin floor, felt his shallow breathing as I pulled him closer to me. The fear in his eyes was glorious. I do not understand why, but the fear, that last breath of humanity, always makes my meal sweeter. I toyed with him for a few seconds, watching the terror grow as Hank realized he was about to take his last breath. Before he could close his eyes to block out the sight of death taking over him, I sank my teeth into the bristly skin of his neck.
The blood flowed deliciously sweet from Hank’s artery. I could feel my body starting to warm up from the inside. My senses were coming back to me in full. I felt the heat of the fire in the cabin’s little fireplace. I could feel the strength returning to my body after almost a week with nothing but squirrels and rabbits to drink.
As I drained the last drop of blood from Hank’s lifeless body, I let him fall to the floor. He landed with a hollow sounding thud on the exposed wood of the cabin’s floor. I then turned my attention to Margaret. Emma had completed her meal and Margaret was sobbing in the corner of the room; loud sobs coming from her mouth and frothy bubbles coming from the blood in the gaping wound on the left side of her throat. I crossed the room in what must have looked like one step to Margaret because she immediately started screaming something about me being the devil.