Back Alleys
Skeletal fingers dig their sordid little nails into the supple, fleshy tissue of a fragile neck, tearing and ripping, laughter bubbling from lips as the victim asphyxiates on his own blood. His prey wiggles and squirms, coughing and sputtering, kicking legs to try and escape – but he should know that there is no escaping the grimy clutches of death once it has its gnarled paw wrapped around the recesses of your core. Crimson hair curtains as the lion bends over his meal, smirk spreading over his face like a well known infection. There is a horrified look on the face of the one choking beneath him, olive eyes wide with dread and how could you do this? But he doesn't need to answer that question; it should have been evident from the very beginning where all of this was going.
"Don't worry," he whispers to the ear of his sufferer, voice saccharine, betraying, "I'll be sure to savor every last drop of what you have to offer." Fingers snap into the sinew of bones and he's sure that the stunning boy dying below him would be screaming out if his very breath (life) wasn't being robbed from him. Sticky wet redness flows from the growing abrasion and he laughs harder, enjoys the way the boy shudders beneath him.
Three months, six days, nine hours, two minutes since his last meal. Everyone was just so naïve. All it took was a few appealing words, a few adequately dressed fabrications, and he could put anyone on their knees, could have any single person wrapped around his finger.
But this one was going to be his favorite. He could tell by the way that the russet haired boy was struggling beneath him regardless of the fact that he had already lost so much blood.
The breathing stops, the fighting reaches its apex and is swiftly over before any real fun can be had. Fingers split open tender skin entirely; shred it off the bone it is knotted to. The adrenaline comes to a standstill in his veins. His emerald eyes ogle the ruined neck he's fashioned, sinister heart thrashing and pulsating behind a brittle ribcage.
It isn't enough. He's going to need more. Not enough blood. Not enough screaming. Not enough pain.
He needs more.