Rayne walked quietly up to the door and knocked. He could hear her music blaring through the small stereo she kept on her window sill. Papa Roach: Getting Away With Murder. She'd first heard it at the Underground, a club in their city. When she was still human. It took on a kind of irony for her now, even though she wouldn't feed.

"Come in." She sounded distracted as usual. She hadn't been focused recently.

"Midnight?" He opened the door and cautiously stuck his head in. She was sitting at her computer, tapping her fingers along with the music as she stared at the words on the screen. "You really need to come with us tonight. You're wasting away."

"I'm fine." Her eyebrows drew together as she frowned. "And besides," her voice darkened noticeably. "My wasting away is better than some innocent dying because I couldn't keep my head straight."

"Midnight." Rayne stepped up to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "I know you don't feel right with this but you need to feed. I don't want to lose you."

"You say that every night." She shoved him away roughly and rose from her chair, her long hair falling in waves to her waist as she spun to face him. Her eyes flared as she glared at him. "You also listen to my ideas of finding other ways to keep us alive without having to go out and kill about ten people a night. You even agree with me about how they would be more effective and probably even taste better." She threw up her arms and paced. "And yet each night you still go out and you still hunt." She faced him again and had she been able to cry the tears would be making small rivers down her cheeks. "You even killed three people last night Rayne." Her voice was quiet as she sat on the bed and put her head in her hands. "Three. You don't even need one person to keep you alive for a century. And you kill every night."

He stared at her speechlessly. Each word had been a dagger to his heart, bringing up memories of when he'd first been changed. He was still haunted with guilt from each kill. A fact he didn't tell the others. It was also the reason he disappeared for a few hours each night before returning at dawn. He would spend those hours remembering each tiny detail of his kill. Each time their eyes filled with fear as they realized that he wasn't some guy picking them up. That he was actually going to kill them. Take their lives.

He opened his mouth to try and comfort her, to try and explain his actions and abruptly shut it again. Anything he said would only sound hypocritical. The only truth was that at the site of them dancing, their veins visible in their sheer clothes, he would lose control. He would lure them outside to feed. Yes, any words he offered her now would sound like excuses proving to her that he was exactly the monster she knew them all to be. No wonder she hated herself so. He left the room silently, leaning on the closed door and squeezing his eyes against the guilt that once again pounded at his thoughts.

"Aw, is our little tiger cub turning her head away from fresh meat again?"