Hands trembling, muscles spasming, and the hunger - rising to mind-numbing levels - My reward for being a hero. Moving unsteady, staggering, only to fall the next moment. On my knees in the downpour of rain, I resume carving my struggled path through the darkest alleys. Lurking and haunting the shadows unseen, trapped in a half existence - unable to purge the persistent drumming from my mind. It haunts, and poisons with its repetitive beat. Da-Dum, Da-Dum, Da-Dum - ever louder with the passing of days. The cigarettes used to work, now my consumption is through the roof - talking to her once worked, but now she's abandoned me in this hell. I'm alone. It's better this way - my loved ones won't witness my descent into madness. It's just me and the guilt here in the shadows, and the guilt has become a ravenous hunger; insatiable.

It's no surprise when I step from the darkness, squinting at the neon sign. My feet guided me, ushered me towards this place. Bloody Mary. It's out of sheer desperation I even contemplate knocking on the rusted iron entrance.

Feline eyes stare through the slit. "Password?"

"I don't know!"

"Then bother someone else, will you?"

The slit closes. I collapse against the door, my body protesting as my muscles tremble, and spasm.

"If you don't open this fucking door right..." I stop, rocketing over in pain. My stomach's on fire, and I can't think straight.

The slit opens again and those feline eyes stare at me with contempt. "You'll what?"

"I need to take the edge..." I stop mid-speech, throat tightening, stomach twisting and turning into a tight knot as I empty the contents of my stomach onto the floor.

Those eyes tell me everything. He doesn't give a shit. In a blind panic, I throw myself at the door. "Please!"

The slit slams shut once more and reflected in the polished steel is me. Eyes bloodshot, Hair unkempt, a manic essence to those eyes. One word comes to mind when looking at myself and that word is insane. I breathe deep, calming my frenzied before turning and walking back into the shadows. I take a handful of steps before the metal slit opens again.
"You got any cash?" I turn and nod. He must think I'm not a threat. He's wrong. The hinges protest as the iron door opens.

"You know the rules?" Asked the owner of the feline eyes. I'm unable to hide my reaction, unable to quell the disgust and fear from my sweat-stained face. He knows what I'm thinking. He's probably had it since the day he slid out of whomever was unfortunate enough to birth such a beast, such an ugly fucking abomination. He reacts only with a roll of his eyes and pushes me inside, almost knocking me over; not from malice, but the desire to remain out of sight. To keep this Den of blood hidden.

I've seen a lot on this bountiful earth, but a six-foot, four hundred pounds Goat-man. With more muscles than required, is new for me. Is he a Fawn? Not with those eyes of his. No fucking way. Fawns to my knowledge don't have cat eyes.

"No fighting, killing, or magic; and never speak of what you see. Understood?"

I 'm barely listening to him. Instead, I'm fixated on the caged dancers, scattered across the room like some twisted and warped commentary on the barbarism of men.

"Bloody Mary. I find it disgusting and crude, but you fuckers, get hot under the collar by a woman menstruating, don't you?"

I inhale, filling my lungs with the nectar; the blood honey.

"I wouldn't use that word if I were you."

"What word?"

"Disgusting..."

I plan to continue speaking but my head tilts back from the megaton blow to my jaw. I adjust my head back to the position it was before he Sucker punched me and spit blood onto the floor.

My eyes fill with blood; the natural scent of the women igniting my inhibitions.

He/It grips my shoulder nice and tight, tight enough to shatter marble, and breathes in my fucking face with rage. Unfazed, and unimpressed, but also disgusted by the obvious halitosis I remove his hand from me with ease and saunter over to the bar.

"Maybe later, beautiful," I call over my shoulder and chuckle as another Goat-man stops him from advancing on me.

The music is deafening. The lighting, close to non-existent. My kin are all around me, and it's exhilarating. It takes every ounce of control at my disposal, not to watch, not to partake without permission. I'm unable to focus on any one thing at a time, and the barman grins. "Vampire, I take it?" I nod, caring little for any small talk. "Not a talker. Yeah, that makes sense ... From the bottle or the glass?" He asks, friendliness abandoned.
"The bottle."
"We have a 28 tequila, available now. If you'd like something different, you'll have to wait."

Grabbing my wallet from my back pocket of my jeans, my hands tremble, and the notes spill on to the floor. The barkeep signals over one girl, she must be the 'bottle, the tequila.'

Unlike her peers, she's clothed. She stands before me. Long and toned legs, child-bearing hips, and ample bosom are all visible through fishnet style clothing. She's at the peak of her prime in both looks and fertility and she's also out of place. She's a puzzle that needs solving, I like puzzles. Her eyes dilate from fear as I speedily move to the seated area within a fraction of a second. The way she's looking at me is foolish - like I'm some adorable pet and not the true predator I am. Her heart is racing with excitement, she nibbles on her lip momentarily, my eyes focus on her teeth. Bite it! My brain is screaming, whilst I'm reserved and calm outwardly. If I reached over and slid my fingers down her pants, they'd come back damp, but I'm not interested in her "that way", she's nothing more than a meal. My eyes are floating over her form but not from an attraction. I'm watching her veins pump blood around her body.

"What's your name, Sweetie?" Not taking my eyes from her legs, and the femoral artery housed within, I reply. "Jack."

She moves closer and the warmth radiating from her washes over me. I glance down at her navel; the piercing leads me lower.

"Sunrise... Does it hurt, dying?"

"Want the truth or the lie?"

"The truth," she whispers in my ear.

Without hesitation, I sink my fangs into her navel and she struggles a little before relaxing again and moaning as the ecstasy fills her being. The tequila in her blood tastes good, better than anything from the glass. Her hand seeks the warmth in her thighs, while her other sinks under her shirt and rises to her nipple. Watching her fingers pinch, twist, and squeeze the flesh, gives me an idea. I stop feeding. Disappointed she sighs and stiffens. That is until my head raises to her bust, and I lift the shirt to reveal the hard nipple beneath.

"Dying feels like this."

She moans harder while my fangs sink into the tough flesh of her nipples.

It's working - The feeding - the high alcohol blood - and the company are therapeutic. The drumming is growing quieter by the second. The over-powering hunger, the crippling cramps, the raging fire – all are fading.

Lost in the euphoria of silence, and drowning in tequila laced blood, I enjoy myself, enjoy the hot blood as it jettisons down the back of my throat. Her hand unbuttons my jeans and slips beneath.

Kali. I have time to think her name before I realize that I've pulled down my pants and Sunrise has positioned herself for me to enter her. I stiffen and lock my shoulders, trying to fight the urge but she turns her neck exposing her jugular and whispers my name. The vein is throbbing, pounding and calling out to my darker nature. I bite down hard enough to make her cry out. At the same time, a familiar warmth welcomes me. Over and over, she calls out to me as I thrust forward, biting deeper and harder, riding the roller coaster of blood and alcohol. I should have stopped her, stopped myself. Instead, I lost control and became indifferent to her cries.

"Jack." "Jack!" "J..."

The cries stopped, her grinding hips stopped, as her muscles stiffened. My hips continued to thrust hard, as the blood continued to jettison into my mouth. The blood stopped flowing by the time that I realized what happened. I pulled back, my face, the couch, and the floor were coated with blood. I'd torn open her jugular.

Her dead eyes stared at me - heavy footsteps approached - someone was coming.

"I warned you!" The goat man towered over me; a baseball bat clutched tight in his hand.
One good swing later and the world darkened.