James could remember his mother telling him not to play with his food, though dimly, faintly. He laughed aloud when the memory came to him as he ran (slowly, agonizingly so; he wanted his prey to think she had a chance of getting away.)
He always had taken great joy in disobeying his mother.
He could hear her so clearly, even through the fog; those sweet, desperate gasps of air that couldn't possibly be giving her enough strength to run, the high pitched little whimpers of fear, a sudden breathless cry of pain. He growled, a predatory smile stretching the corners of his lips upwards when he heard her slender body hit the earth. He really ran then, and was at her side in less time than it took to take a breath. Her ankle was twisted at an odd angle, and she was clutching at it with one hand as she tried to move back away from him.
"Oh, poor little thing," James cooed, still smiling. "You can't run very well now, can you?" She looked up at him desperately, tear-filled brown eyes wide and pleading.
"P-please, don't hurt m-me, please," she begged, and he closed his eyes briefly, tilting his head back slightly and savoring the scent of her fear, listening to her heart hammering in her chest. And then he opened his eyes, looking back down at her, meeting her gaze. He very deliberately set his foot on her ankle and pressed, grinding down until she began to scream as the bones and tendons separated, tore, and broke.
His own quiet moan was lost in her shrieks of pain.
James moved his foot, finally, when her screams stopped and gave way to low groans. He crouched down over her, his smile widening when she cringed away from him, raising one delicate hand as though to ward of a blow. He caught her slender wrist in one hand, snapping it easily. She screamed, hoarsely; her throat must have been raw by this point, he thought.
"Hush," he whispered as he pulled her close, holding her trembling body against his as he licked the tears from her cheeks. "Hush, now." She tried to stifle her sobs, as though she imagined that she could placate him by doing what she was told. He laughed, softly, then sank his teeth into her throat and drank.
He left her corpse there when he finally stood up, wiping his mouth absently on the back of his hand.
Her screams had been sweeter than her blood.