(Adam's POV)

Hungry

I'm barely still living. I'm technically not even living. I'm dead. A cursed dead. A eternally-cursed-to-a-living-hell dead. Now I wish I was dead. At least then the dead don't have to put up with the annoyance of the bloody zombies.

Hungry

I roll over, now awake, listening to the ringing of my doorbell again. That's what woke me up, and the sun hasn't even set yet. Bloody zombies. Not daring to move, I glance over at the camera feed on the TV from outside placed at the bottom of my bed and let out a groan. Another car full of pesky zombie rocker kids. No matter how cautious I am, they still keep knocking on my front door. What do they want me to do? Play for them? I'd rather rip their pesky fingers off their hands just so I could get some more peace. I lie there watching them as they try to look in through my boarded up windows and ring the doorbell again. Eventually, after an eternity of waiting, they finally all bundle back into their rust-bucket car and drive off. Finally, I sigh, some peace.

Hungry

My stomach lurches and groans. It's hungry, no wonder. Supplies have been running low for a while now, and I dare not take any risks. I don't want to have to move location again and loose all my precious instruments I've collected. Not than anyone knows I actually exist.

Hungry

I finally admit defeat. There is no way I can put up with my growing hunger anymore. Sometimes there is no rest for the dead. I pull the covers off me as I sit up in bed, casting a cautious look towards the curtains. The sun was just on it's way down, the faint red sky of light just glowing on the other side of the dark curtains. I am up way to early; curse those zombies. Keeping a watchful eye on the curtains, I get up out of bed and walk towards the front room, my music room.

Hungry

I sit down on the sofa and pick up the small glass and my hip flask from off the table. I pour myself a mouthful of drink, being careful to not spill a drop; this good stuff is too precious to waste. It's sweet smell is intoxicating, and already my stomach is growling, screaming inside, thirsty for more. I set the flask down and raise the glass, letting it's contents glisten in the lamplight. I never can get over the beauty of it, the richness of it's colour. But I don't want to listen to reason, I'm hungry. Starving. Dying. I need to feed. I lift the glass to my lips and knock it back, the thick liquid flowing down my throat, setting my spirit on fire. I savour it's taste, it trickling down over my lip, a small drop landing on my bare chest. I smile, and let my fangs bare free to the air as my head rolls back in a daze of ecstasy. The purest, sweetest food source of them all

Blood

I loose track of how long I am lying there, staring up into the dark space of my room. I never can get over that taste, especially over the good stuff. You might call it heavenly, like the sweetest of melted chocolates or the richest of wines. Each person has a different taste, a flavour, but nothing will taste as good as your first drop. For as long as I have lived, I have never found anyone who has come close to my first bite. I drained them dry they tasted so good. But that was a long, long time ago. I lick the last bit off my lip and glance back towards the dark curtains. The sun has safely set now. Time to go for a walk.

I lick off the remaining blood off my chest, not wanting to waste a single drop, and dress myself to go out. The black leather biker/rocker look seems to suit me well, and allows me to blend in a lot easier than most. I don't take care of my looks, for example, my black hair is always messed up and swept over on one side, but I don't mind. After I've put on my boots and gloves, I go around turning off everything in the house. It's not that I'm trying to save electricity, as I have my own generator for that; stupid zombie tech. I prefer to know that everything is off, it's just better that way. I double check every window is locked and all the curtains are closed. It's a rather large old house, with lots of rooms and a basement, but I hardly use any of them. I am quite fond of the old architecture buildings; they look at lot better than the horrible concrete and glass contraptions made by zombies. Once I'm satisfied, I lock the door and set off into the new night, full of new blood filled energy to roam the streets of Detroit.

Although there is hardly anything around in my area of the suburbs, there is plenty to see. Once, Detroit used the be the thriving place to be, with nearly in excess of a million people. Now, its nothing more than a deserted wasteland of empty concrete shells, uninhabited, letting nature run wild again. I walk the same empty three mile radius around from my house nearly every night, sometimes I drive. In 20 years this place grew from a wasteland to a thriving city, before now being something like a ghost town; perfect for hunting.

I walk down the dark, unlit street, a route I have taken many times at night for my usual walk. Sometimes it can be a bit boring, being on your own, outliving every single living creature in existence. It's times like this I miss Eve, my wife, but she is always with me, in my mind and heart. After getting to the end of the street I continue going, mile after mile, deserted houses on both sides of the street. Eventually, the road beings to lighten with streetlights every so often, and more houses. I was now entering into zombie territory. It is always scary, if a bit thrilling, walking among them, but I have to be careful. Although they would be unable to kill me, they could certainly harm me, but not as much harm as what I would be able to cause them. Luckily, it's quiet out, with only the occasional dog howl in the distance. Even those beasts want their freedom as much as I do. But they will have to wait.

Hungry

I stop in my tracks as a slight lurch in my stomach freezes me stiff. I sniff the air, and lick my lips. In that cold night air, blowing in the breeze, a specific scent.

Blood.

I quicken my pace, letting my legs lead me towards the smell, fighting against myself to control my fangs that grow, just wanting to come out. I pass house after house, some of the lights inside on as the occupants remain awake in the early hours of the morning. Out of the corner of my eye I notice an elderly man shuffling down the street on the opposite side, his eyes firmly fixed on me, gripping his walking stick tightly. He needn't worry, I pose not threat to him; he's as empty as a dry riverbed anyway. My eyes are firmly fixed ahead now as my feet lead me down an alleyway running parallel to the main road, kicking the turned over trash can aside and out of my way. Although it's pitch black darkness in the alley, I can see everything as if it were daytime, every slither of glass, every hiding place, that's why nothing can escape a vampire when they hunt their prey. My heart is pounding, blood pumping through my veins as I follow the scent of blood, already tensing my muscles ready to pounce. Finally, I think to myself, an easy kill without any added complications of witnesses. I hear movement up head and stop, my eyes narrowed on the sight before me. A hound, it's flesh barely hanging onto it's hollow bones lies on the ground of the alley, a old chicken carcass from an upturned bin in it's paws. Sensing my presence, it stops ravaging at the food and looks me in the eye, growling at me as I approach. I chuckle at this poor pests pathetic attempt to scare off a more powerful hunter. No wonder it is barely alive. I merely snarl my fanged teeth at it before it runs off, whimpering down the alleyway. I casually walk over to the dismembered chicken and toss it into the bin. Perhaps the scent I picked up was that one all along.

Sighing, I am just about to turn back when I sniff. There it is, as clear as day. The smell of blood. I look around the alleyway where I'm stood, my eyes scanning along the fences either side, before I finally see it. Beside a muddle puddle, on a few small pieces of broken glass. Glistening like the red tips of fire. Blood. I cautiously pick up the piece of glass, my eyes fixed on the blood. A young, inexperience vampire would lick that glass clean of the blood on it. That's why they never live long. As much as blood is our food source, it can be just as toxic and dangerous. I bring it close to my nose and breath in it's scent deep. Whoever fell and cut themselves here is young, with plenty of blood pumping through their veins to keep be going for two, possibly even three months at best. I place the glass down, letting the scent linger in my mind, before my eyes notice the droplets of blood leading off down the alleyway. I smile to myself; a trail, just like Hansel and Gretel with the breadcrumbs. Trying to hold back the growing beast inside, I follow the trail of blood, walking further down the alleyway, until I reach the end and smile. Young, fresh blood indeed. Of course it would have been a student at the school I realise to myself as I stand, leaning up against the wall, looking out across the road from the darkness of the alleyway at the school building. I guess I will be having my next feast very soon I chuckle to myself, my eyes quickly checking the brightness of the sky. The sun would be coming up in an hour, so a night time exploring of the school would not be advised. I didn't want to end up stuck inside when the sun came up; I don't fancy locking myself in a cupboard. Knowing where my nighttime walk tomorrow will take me, I turn and begin my long walk back to my house. Soon, that bleeding human will be mine. Very soon.

A/N: Thanks everyone for all of your lovely comments so far. Glad you're enjoying it. Been to the London Comic Con today and my feet are killing me! So much walking, and met some fantastic cosplayers. I know who I'm going to do next year, a certain god or goddess of mischief ;)

Please leave your comments and thoughts. I hope to update soon :)

Thanks again