A/N Edit: This fic is not for everyone. It contains a lot of gore, and implied physical and sexual abuse. This was also written when I was around 16, before I learned how to implement tact in my writing, so these themes are made VERY obvious. Consider this your trigger warning.
It smelled so, so good.
The succulent scent trailed directly into his nostrils, immediately waking him from his dreamless slumber. Despite the rigid mask covering his face, the smell immediately became deeply fragrant. Though the odour was still a relatively new addition to the smells of the thick woods, it already seemed to overpower all other scents, like it always did for him. Even the smell of his dark stained clothing, which was coated in a similar stench, was shrouded by this new arrival.
He lifted his mask, ever so slightly, to catch a stronger whiff of the wondrous aroma. It smelled metallic, like copper or iron, and slightly salty and sweet. However, unlike himself, it lacked the slightly sour and oily smell of decay, indicating that the origin of the fragrance was still quite fresh.
He knew that scent well. It was the smell of a bloodied body. Maybe still alive, if he was lucky enough.
His mouth was already watering.
Lifting himself up from the uncomfortable dirt floor he had been resting on, he sniffed the air thoroughly, locating the direction of the body. When he was sure he found his trail, he slipped his cerulean mask back down, covering his tear-stained face once again. He then set out on his path, half running, and half leaping around the large withered trees, eager to reach what would hopefully be his next meal.
He'd already fed himself once that night. It was a young couple, probably in their early to mid twenties, walking down an empty alleyway. They smelled deeply of cheap alcohol and unconfined lust. He took three kidneys, a liver, and a heart before his cravings were temporarily quelled. One of them may have been able to survive, if they were lucky. He would, on occasion, try to make the injuries less life-threatening. Just take a kidney, or a bit of blood, which was enough to suppress the hunger for a few hours. He even carried large-bladed scalpel and a syringe of stolen anaesthetic with him in his deep pockets, for the times he was still human enough to be so generous. But that night in particular had been one of his more carnal nights, where it was hard for him to even remember his adopted name. The one he overheard humans sometimes speak in hushed tones when they sensed his presence. But he had simply ripped the flesh of the couple with only his clawed bony hands that night, and left them in that dark alley to bleed out. Far from the worst ending he had ever given to his prey, but not the most courteous either.
But now that he smelled that sweet scent once again, his hunger reemerged instantly. As he quickly moved closer to the body, he could also begin to hear it. It was the sound of broken sobbing, interrupted by soft agonized whimpers. It sounded fairly human, but it was exceptionally high pitched. Perhaps it was an animal, or a young child. He hoped for the latter. He'd learned early on that it was only the organs of humans that could sustain him. Otherwise, he would starve to death. It was a curse he would never fully learn to accept, but it was his either way.
Whatever it was, it smelled absolutely scrumptious.
And then he saw it.
No, not it. Her. It was a human girl, crying pitifully to herself, alone in the empty woods. Though she was not alone anymore. She hadn't seen him yet, as expected. Despite having no true eyes of his own, his vision was superior to that of a human, along with his other senses. His sense of smell was especially improved, transforming him into a sort of humanoid bloodhound. He couldn't quite explain why he could still see, but he was not about to complain about it. Not that he had anyone to complain to. Or speak to. In fact, he was not sure when the last time he had truly spoken was.
But even with his eyeless sight, he could not see much of the girl through the distance and the dead trees. He considered approaching her directly, but quickly decided against it. Some sort of instinct inside of him was telling him to remain hidden until he could clearly assess the situation. Or perhaps it was his more compassionate side breaking through, trying to withhold him from harming the innocent girl. Either way, he complied with the feeling, choosing instead to leap silently to the tall branches of the surrounding reposing trees. He made his way up to the girl, looming just above her own line of vision, but able to see her clearly.
Now seeing her up close, he noticed how pitiful she looked. She was sobbing weakly in a pool of red, with varying sizes of lacerations decorating her tiny body. Her pretty pink top was pulled just above her waist, where the majority of the blood beneath her pooled from. There seemed to be two uneven cuts on either side of the ribcage where the blood steadily gushed out. He knew from years upon years of experience that this was roughly where the kidneys would be located. She seemed to already be growing weak from the blood loss, her cries becoming slightly softer than when he was afar. This scene was not new to him. Nothing he hadn't seen and caused before.
In fact, he would have suspected that he himself were the culprit of the girl's suffering if not for the lower half of her body. Her bloodied green skirt had been completely discarded from her body. Someone had hastily thrown against a nearby tree, just barely out of the girl's reach, leaving her private parts completely exposed. Her legs, much like the rest of her, were littered in deep untidy gashes, especially around her inner thighs. The skin surrounding the area her legs met was reddened and badly bruised. It would probably be difficult for her to walk, if not impossible.
He could feel his appetite slowly leaving him.
She seemed young. Too young. Probably around seven, or maybe eight. Her ash blonde hair was now mussed and tangled, and showered in her own dark blood. Although he couldn't quite see due to the downward angle, he could tell that tears were flowing freely down her face.
Her thin thighs were sliced nearly to the bone. She couldn't run. She'd hardly be able to walk on her own. He had no reason to continue to hide. She was easy prey, almost too easy. Nothing but a quick meal to satisfy him until next time he grew hungry. Even if her kidneys were gone, the fact that she was still alive meant that she had plenty of other scrumptious organs to feed on. But, despite the strong metallic stench of blood infecting his nostrils, his need to consume only faded. He could not quite pinpoint the true reason, but this little girl seemed less and less like a meal to him after each passing moment. It would almost feel like he was human again, if not for the numbness that continually enveloped him.
He jumped down from the tree, landing in front of her.
In her current state of pain and weakness, it took her several moments to register the new presence. But when she did, he watched her teary eyes widen in fear as she let out a frail, desperate scream. She kicked her wounded legs as much as she could, which was not much at all, trying desperately to get away from him, but was stopped by the tree she was purposely propped against. This reaction was expected. The girl must have gone through much trauma, and he must have looked very frightening to her in the dark of night. The fact that he dressed in all black and that his cerulean mask hid all facial features, save for his leaking eye sockets, made him appear less like a human and more like the monster he was. And jumping in front of her likely did not help ease her very justified fears at all.
But he did not attack. He did not inch closer. He only studied her youthful face. It was cut up like the rest of her, but the wounds did not conceal her soft, delicate features. She seemed like the kind of child that would always wear a smile outside of her current situation. She was a young, bright, happy child. But her most striking feature was her eyes. They were large, shimmering eyes that, even when facing death, seemed so full of life. They were a radiant azure blue, much like the colour of his mask, and unmarked by the blood that covered the rest of her body.
She looked so much like her.
He couldn't quite remember who. His sister, maybe, or maybe his daughter. Or maybe just a friend that happened to be very young. Her name was Missy, he thought. Or maybe it was Millie. Or it could have been Minnie. No, no, it was Missy. He was sure of it. It was short for Melissa, but everyone always called her Missy for short. Their mother would always call her 'my little Missy'. She thought it sounded adorable, and she was right.
She was his baby sister. He was older than her by many years, but they were still eminently close, even after he moved away. He would visit as often as he could, always excited to play with her, read stories to her, and most importantly protect her. He was always prepared to defend her from anything, much like any altruistic brother would. And he did. For years, he managed to keep her safe from all the monsters in the world. The only time he ever failed to protect her was when he himself became a monster.
Continuing to look at the frightened girl, he realized that she did not look much like Missy at all. But the eyes were the same. Or at least, they appeared to be the same. They were the same deep, vibrant shade of blue, and held the same amount of beauty and innocence. Even when they held such intense fear and pain, he couldn't help but stare directly into them and get lost in her gaze. Those eyes reminded him so much of the life he once had. The life that he thought he had forgotten long ago. It almost hurt, the way they would tug at his previously cold, empty heart. It filled him with a sense of sadness and regret that he had banished from his mind for a very, very long time.
Slowly, he reached out a single hand to the little girl, intending for her to grab it. Naturally, she recoiled from the hand, noticing the traces of dried blood tucked into the creases of his greyed skin. In a blind panic, she attempted to stand up and run, but yelped in sudden pain as a new heavy wave of blood absconded from the sides of her body. She then slumped back to the ground, letting more liquid escape her eyes and wounds. For reasons that were slowly becoming more and more clear, it hurt him to see the little girl in such pain and misery. It had been many years since a human being had managed to evoke such a strong emotion from him, positive or negative. In fact, he was certain the last person to do so was Missy herself.
He kept his hand extended, still hoping that she would hold onto it. He wasn't sure what to do, but he knew he did not desire to feed on her, and he knew he didn't want to leave her to die alone. In all his years of living his revolting lifestyle, not once had he encountered a situation like this. If a person was dying, they were food. He ate what he wanted, and then left them. Sometimes if the human survived, he would leave them to themselves, and other times he would come back for seconds the next time his hunger struck. But not once had he felt the urge to stay close as another breathed their last breaths, regardless of whether or not they were his kill. He was, more or less, an animal, relying mainly on pure instinct and the will to survive another day. That was how it had always been. Ever since that one fateful day all those years ago.
The girl ignored his hand, still sobbing to herself. He decided to lean in closer, feeling a faint warmth emanating from her small, mangled body. As carefully as he could, he cupped the girl's face, making sure to avoid her larger gashes. Again, she tried to back away, but now moved even less than before. It didn't take long before she stopped resisting, seeming to finally accept her fate. She looked into his empty sockets, drooping eyes painted with fear and agony as tears shed down her soft cheeks. She had the face of someone who knew they were about to die. Slowly, he moved his thumb underneath her eye, wiping away her tears. He moved his hand slightly, now wiping the fat teardrops away from the other side of her face. Such a face did not deserve to be shrouded by tears. The girl, slowly growing weaker and weaker, only looked at him as he did so, a groggy expression of confusion piling onto her already pained one.
Jack continued to hold the girl's tiny face in his hand. For a long time, the two of them only watched one another, waiting for the other to make their next move.
Finally, he opened his mouth from underneath his mask. He tried his best to speak, but no noise seemed to come out. How long had it been since he last needed to speak? He couldn't remember. He knew that he could speak, and he used to do it often, but that was long ago. He tried again, now straining his throat more to create sound. This time, a small, hoarse noise escaped his lips, only audible to himself due to his advanced hearing. Moving his free hand – slowly, as to not startle the timid girl – he lifted his beloved cerulean mask, hoping it would help the sickly child hear him better. He saw her lethargic eyes widen as the mask was lifted above his head. She seemed profoundly surprised about something. Perhaps she thought the featureless mask was his true face, an easy mistake to make in the darkness. Or maybe she was surprised by just how human his true features actually were. He would be able to understand this. Even he was sometimes shocked by how deceptively human he actually appeared. That was partially why he wore the mask. To let him and everyone else know that he was a monster, and he was dangerous. In a strange way, it allowed him to be merciful.
He tried a third time to speak. This time, he was successful. "Shh, it's okay..." he softly whispered to the girl. He tried to speak in the same warm, comforting tone he once used on Missy, but his voice still came out too harsh and shaky for his liking. Regardless, the girl seemed to notice his words. She did not attempt to recoil again, which he foolishly decided to take as a sign of trust instead of her slowly perishing from blood loss.
"Do you have a name?" he asked her, his voice sounding a bit more solid than before, though still quite raspy. He did not really care much about her name, and was more trying to evoke a reaction out of her. He knew he would eventually forget her name, just as he had forgotten his own. And if she had no name, he would have a better, yet still vague idea of just how she got into her current situation, and what breed of monster did such horrible acts to her.
"L-L-Love..." she stuttered, both due to fear and her consciousness slowly fading. He was somewhat surprised. Her name was Love? How wonderfully, disgustingly ironic, seeing how whoever she had encountered seemed more driven by lust than love. Her situation was actually quite odd and unfortunate. Whoever left her alone in the forest had decided to harvest her organs, grant her with many other unnecessary wounds, and also feed his or her own salacity. He was nearly tempted to consider this unknown person a much worse monster than he, but then realized that he himself matched the same description. For what was he other than a creature who maimed innocent beings and left them to die for the purpose of satisfying his own sick desires?
He was no better than all the other monsters in the world. But this girl didn't need to know that.
"Hello Love," he comforted, his voice gradually becoming softer and smoother, "I'm-" What was his name? He could just barely remember one of his names, the alias given to him by one of the few survivors that dared tell his implausible story. But that was not his true name. He was born with another, one given to him by his parents when he was still fully human. He must have heard that name every day at some point. But that was long ago. It had been so many years since he needed to think about that name, or had the desire to remember it. And now it was lost to him, even in his most humane moment in what seemed like a lifetime.
"I'm Jack," he finished. It wasn't his true name, but at least he had something to call himself. But he did not want to share his entire title with the girl. It would only bring more unwanted attention to the fact that his eyes had been gouged out, and that he was not natural to this world. He did not want that. He wanted this girl to like him. To trust him. Although she was a stranger, she brought forth from him feelings that he had not felt in so very long. He was not ready to have that feeling end.
The girl just continued to stare up at him with her fading blue eyes. They were so beautiful, the way they shimmered in the faint moonlight. They looked so much like Missy's eyes that it hurt. He once had eyes like those, too. That same brilliant shade of cerulean blue. So bright and full of life, like nothing in the world could ever go wrong. But that was before it happened. And now his eyes were gone. So were Missy's. And eventually, the eyes that belonged to Love would forever close. Once again, something good and pure would be destroyed. It was something Jack saw every night, like a recurring nightmare he could never wake from.
But not this time. For once, he couldn't let this go. This girl needed him. It was finally time to be the hero he couldn't be all those years ago.
"I'm sorry. This may hurt a bit," he apologized. Barely registering his words, Love could only watch with half opened eyes as the creature in front of her pulled out a small needle from inside the deep pockets of his black hoodie. He took one last, deep look into her eyes, taking great care to savour the moment, knowing that he would likely never see them again. Something about that brought forth a feeling of depression, but he knew he was doing what was ultimately right. Gently, he put one clawed hand on her bare arm, holding it still as he easily pricked the narrow end of the needle into her skin. Slowly yet steadily, he squeezed the contents into the girl's broken body, allowing the fluid inside to flow into her veins. Once finished, he pulled the sharp needle out of her arm, and looked back at her delicate face. The drugs started working instantaneously, and her eyes unceremoniously fluttered for a brief moment before finally closing.
Jack stuffed the used needle back into the pocket of his hoodie. That was the last of his anaesthesia. He would need to find a way to get more soon. He never liked being anywhere without it, despite hardly ever putting it to use. The drug made it so much easier to keep his victims alive whenever he was in the right mindset to do so. But on that night, he considered more well used than ever before. The girl named Love was sound asleep, now unable to experience the pain of slowly perishing that she would otherwise continue to go through.
He studied the unconscious girl's body, briefly inspecting her wounds. He could try his best to sew her flesh back together, but he had used up the last of his filched surgical thread long ago. She was bleeding very quickly, and it was possible that the blood loss could kill at any moment. He could only hope that the anaesthesia would slow her pulse enough to delay her demise. But what really concerned Jack was her missing organs. If only one kidney had been swiped, she would have a much better chance at surviving. But with both of them gone, she had mere hours left to live, regardless of her other wounds. He knew this from many unbearably long years of experience. He suspected that whoever initially harvested her organs was either unaware of this or unable to wait long enough to harvest from two separate people. If Jack were any more human, he would maybe feel comfortable enough to call this person inhumanely selfish.
As much as he despised the thought of moving the broken body, he knew he could not leave her there. As carefully as he possibly could, though he was certain he was still not careful enough, he picked the little girl up in his arms, her body completely limp and uncomfortably lifeless. He positioned Love so that she slung over his right shoulder, one of his strong arms balancing her in place. Far from the best position to be in while in her condition, but unfortunately, options were very few. It was either Jack got the girl to civilization as fast as possible where she could be treated, or let her slowly die in that cold, dark forest like so many of his own victims.
He did not, at the time, consider the third option. The one that had initially driven him to her.
He started running past the withered trees, trying to remember the direction the town was in. While in his much more primal state, he did not study the path he had taken into the sparse forest, where he had decided to hide overnight. Jack mentally cursed his animalistic tendencies, though he did not force himself to dwell on his regret. During his early days of being a monster, he would spend his time despising his every action, burying himself into a deep hole of depression that he was unable to claw out of. But now he was older and more experienced, and even in such a nearly human moment, he knew to keep himself numb. His emotions have always been his downfall.
He ran faster than when he did while arriving to the scene. This time he made sure not to jump or leap over obstacles on the forest floor, knowing that a simple jostle could exponentially shorten Love's lifespan. He could not take any risks, especially when the stakes were so high. With both her kidneys gouged out and harvested, there was precious little time to spare. Without knowing how long she had been bleeding out and lacking such crucial organs, she could have as little as mere minutes left to live. Which was why he had to find the town from earlier as fast as possible.
And when he did, he was not sure what he would do. He could not simply saunter into an area filled with humans without expecting fearful screams and being attacked brutally. Depending on his location, guns could be a major concern, and he knew that he did not want to face those if he had a choice. Jack could not blame the humans for such extreme actions, however. He was sure that in his previous life, he would not hesitate to fend off something that could harm him or Missy. Self-defence was just a natural reaction that he would need to work around, whether he liked it or not.
Perhaps he could instead put the skills with stealth he had acquired to good use and deliver her directly to the nearest hospital. He had done things like this before, hence how he could easily obtain powerful anaesthetics. But doing this while carrying a body, even such a small one, would likely be much more difficult to perform. Another problem was that he did not know where the hospital was located, and he did not have the time he needed to search for it. If he wanted to go to the hospital, there would be many risks involved that he wished to avoid taking.
Still no sign of civilization past the bare trees surrounding them. Another option would be to find the nearest house and merely deliver her to the doorstep. Instead of lingering in town with the possibility of being killed himself, he would only need to knock on a door and run, like an extremely high stakes game of ding dong ditch. The last thing he wanted to do was abandon the poor little girl in such a way, though he knew that getting himself caught would not help either of them. The people he found would hopefully be wise enough to take her to the hospital. He was sure they would, though that was still another risk he did not feel like taking. It was possible that the people would not understand the gravity of the situation and try to 'help' her by themselves. That was frighteningly possible, especially if they did not recognize that her kidneys had been stolen. In that case, there would be no chance of Love surviving at all.
Jack sighed heavily. He felt like he was missing something, like there was another more obvious answer that he was overlooking. There had to be a way to ensure this girls survival. It felt so much like fate that the two of them met. She just reminded him so much of Missy, and she needed him more than anything. He needed to save her.
This was his only chance of redemption.
He looked around almost frantically, trying to scope out any sign of humanity through that infinite forest. He saw no shortage of bark and branches and moss and darkness, but nothing that could be considered man made. It was like those seemingly small woods had turned into a maze, the landscape constantly shifting about while his back was turned just to disorient him. He did not think he had journeyed far into the dying woods, though his mind was not as clear then as it was at that very moment. When he entered, he was not a creature with human emotions such as sadness and pity and regret. He hated that corrupted side of him. It ruined his life, turned him into this thing that could only live through others death. And it killed Missy.
The monstrous side of him growled angrily from within his stomach. He knew that it coveted to arise again to feed, but he refused it the pleasure. He couldn't let that happen. Not while this so very fragile life was on the line. He needed to focus and bring her to a hospital immediately before she lost grasp with the few fine strands of livelihood she had left. If it wasn't already too late, of course.
He wondered what they would do for her in the hospital. Hopefully they would already have healthful kidneys on standby, and she would be given a transplant promptly. But as he thought more about that providential scenario, the less likely it slowly seemed to him. Many patients spend months waiting for a healthy organ to replace their malfunctioning one, and the more unfortunate do not even survive the wait. Love's chances of survival would be slim at best, even if she were already at the hospital at that very moment.
He supposed, given his specific skill set, he could perform a makeshift transplant on his own. Since he had no real medical equipment, his work would not be built to last, but he just might be able to keep the girl alive long enough for someone more qualified to save her, as long as she did not die of blood loss on the way. But he had never actually given somebody a kidney before, had he? After so many years, he still knew not much more than ripping and tearing, gnawing and chewing, butchering and massacring. If he made a mistake during the procedure, all he would be able to accomplish was wasting precious time. Besides, that would mean that two other people would need to lose their kidneys. Or more likely just one unfortunate soul, since the clock's ticking seemed to be going faster and faster. But in the end, there was nothing that made this girl more special than any other person. Just because she shared her eyes with a person Jack once knew. Despite his nostalgia, no life was worth more than another.
The monster that hid within him growled once again, this time louder than before. He ignored the blood-fuelled creature, promising it a glorious meal another time. He wouldn't be able to fight his urges forever, but hopefully he would still last.
And then, an intense fragrance suddenly crushed him, causing him to stop in his tracks. A new wave of sour iron-like scents filled the air around them, though to him is smelled as sweet as candy. Forcing his mind to peel away from the decadent aroma, he also noticed that his hand was now unusually warm and damp. The sensation felt horribly, wonderfully familiar.
Turning his head, he noticed that while he had been lost in thought, his hand had wandered towards one of the gaping wounds on the girl's torso, where her own kidneys had been poorly extracted. This had caused a new trail of blood to mark their territory, and unlocked a fresh scent of beauty and joy. Whether his hand just happened to drift in position, or if he subconsciously longed for a hulking chunk of liver, he would rather not know. He ripped his clawed hand away from the wound, waterfalls of blood decorating the ground beneath them as they flung away.
His hand was now dripping in a deep, dark shade of red that nearly looked black in the darkness. He stared, studying the way the thick liquid flowed down his hand all the way to his forearm, where it then hid behind his already bloody clothes. Slowly, he clenched his fist, watching as the blood began to bead around his tight fingers and formed little red rivers of succulence.
Again, the monster that rested within growled happily.
He could feel his needy tongue begging to lap up the juices. Jack fought against the thought, knowing that time was of the essence and he was running out of real options. With the blood he had accidentally released into the outside world, she would now perish even faster. She could have only moments left before the reaper arrived to claim her soul. But as the tantalizing blood began to grow sticky like sweet honey, he slowly began to reason with himself. The blood was already outside of her body. Lapping a bit up now won't do her any more harm.
Before his mind could create a good counterargument, he began to lick his bloody hand clean, much like a child with an ice cream cone. However, he doubted that any child or even human would be able to come close to experiencing the pure bliss that the rich juices gave him. His insatiable desire for flesh was, in many ways, a blessing, for not once in his human life had he experienced something so wonderfully euphoric. And of course, this was only the beginning, for blood was simply the seasoning for humanity's rhapsodic delicacies.
He instinctively reached to his side, towards the girl, excited for whatever treats remained inside her. But, to his shock, she had disappeared from his shoulder, where he had slung her. He immediately looked around the dead forest, knowing there was no way the drugged, dying child could have escaped him. She was practically dead already, and he would have noticed if someone or something had taken her. When he failed to see her small form through the trees, he started running. The chase was on. He would not let her escape, no matter what the costs.
He instantly tripped and fell to the soft dirt ground.
Stunned by his sudden lack of coordination, he waited for the world to cease its spinning before slowly crawled to his hands and knees. He must have ignored an obstacle in his excitement. An embarrassing mistake that happened on occasion, but luckily failed to get him killed so far. He glanced over his shoulder, looking for what had dared to inconvenience him during the hunt.
But instead of a large stone or a protruding tree root like he was expecting, his eyeless vision lied upon the girl's body, crumpled onto the ground in a tiny heap. Of course. He must have dropped her while suckling the blood off his fingers. He wasn't really paying attention to her. He was too focused on that savoury flavor, and the way the liquid felt as it trickled down his throat.
Something felt wrong.
He looked at the girl, a little more closely. She was caked in more blood than before, her top littered in blotches of red and brown and black. More blood pooled around her than ever before thanks to his indulgence. The lacerations on her sides still continued their steady bleeding, along with the several other larger cuts on her body. And though her face was still just as beaten as before, it also still held the same amount of innocence. And he remembered, though it seemed like so long ago, how her large shimmering eyes looked at him, scared and confused. It was just like how she looked at him before he devoured her. The other girl with the blue eyes.
Missy.
No. Not again. He instantly felt sick to his stomach, feeling the organs he had eaten earlier attempt to rise up to his lethal mouth, though he forced it back down again. He had made the same mistake a second time, despite all the years he had to improve himself. He failed to hold back his animalistic nature when he was needed most. He nearly felt like weeping, something he had not done since before he had become a cannibalistic monster. He had truly thought he had changed, that he could redeem himself for his past sins, but it turned out he was the same pitiful creature he was in the beginning.
He crawled over to the girl, not bothering to stand on his feet. As carefully as he possibly could, he rolled the crumpled body to her back, her slashed face looking up to the moon, which spied on the pair through the dead trees. Carefully, he placed an ear next to her chest, knowing that with his heightened senses he would be able to detect any trace of life left within her. If there was any sort of good to ever come from his deformity, this was it.
He strained his hearing, desperate for that slow, soft beating that indicated he was yet to fail. Instead, he heard a heart beating expeditiously, accompanied by short rapid breaths. Noises that belonged to a creature that was very alive, and very terrified. Noises that belonged to himself. From her, there was nothing.
She was dead.
He killed her.
He was never one to mourn. A lifestyle like his would not allow it. Sometimes he would feel pity for his victims on his more human nights, but he learned not to blame himself. Blame would only lead to misery, which would only make his wretched life more difficult. Besides, the sweet taste of flesh could not be combated by any morals. Every life he ended was for a cause greater than themselves, whether his prey knew it or not. They existed to satisfy him.
But something was different about this girl. Maybe it was because she did not belong to him, but another monster that had simply cast her aside like measly table scraps. Maybe it was because he had already eaten that night, and his lust for the inner workings of humans was slightly quelled. Maybe it was because the thought of the girl being raped, beaten, and left for dead was so deterring that it shocked him into awareness. Or maybe it was because she reminded him of a time where he was not controlled by hunger and desire, and he still had his little sister with him to love and protect.
Or maybe it was because, for the first time since his first life ended, he had a purpose. He could finally give back to humanity, after all he had taken away. After so many years, there was somebody that needed him. He had a chance to repay for what he failed to do all those years ago. This was his second chance, his opportunity to overcome the monster inside of him, even if only for a moment. Finally, he had the chance to redeem himself. And he failed.
He picked up the corpse, holding her gently in his strong arms. He longed so badly to feel her hug him back, but it was too late. One moment she was alive, and then she wasn't. All because of him. He promised himself he would save her. He tried so hard, and for a fleeting moment he actually believed himself. But now all he could do was hold her gently, feeling as her body slowly grew cold, and as a black liquid fell from his eye sockets, the closest thing to tears he had left to give.
And as he held her tightly, a grey hand traced one of the wounds on her sides, and entered into the corpse. Slowly, he moved his hand about, easily manoeuvring around the slick, scrumptious organs. Knowing exactly what to go, he moved his hand upwards, towards the liver.
It tasted so, so good.