Blood dripped down from his mouth down to his chin in a fine, thin, red trail. It tasted coppery and sweet in his mouth at the same time. He moaned at the taste, licking his lips. He wanted more but he knew better than to give in. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he fled the scene.

Then the guilt began seeping in.

He didn't kill the man. He was just unconscious, in the middle of a dark alley filled with rats and cockroaches. Okay, maybe leaving him there was a bad idea.

He turned right and blended into the crowd, keeping his head low and his collar up so no one would notice his pallor. Because of heightened senses, he could hear everything. Everything.

The crunch of shoes. The endless chatter about things he didn't know and didn't care about. The tapping of fingers in their phone screens. The wind howling in his ears. The sound of hearts beating, full of blood and life.

Two things he didn't have.