There. He caught sight of someone; a waitress it seemed, on her break for lunch. She was unsuspecting, which made the hunt all the more interesting. When a prey was foolish and made themselves appealing to the taste buds, it made feeding on them that much more delicious. The only person he wouldn't do that to was Francesca, fir she did not deserve to be eaten by the man who loved her. He wasn't a mindless zombie; he just had neither heart nor memories to give him guidance.
The heartless man followed her, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They needed to be away from people, but he could disappear with someone and come back without her and with blood all over him. It would raise suspicion. And if they saw his eyes…it was all over. Each movement was critically planned; each second scheduled for him. He had to feed and to stay away from the prying eyes of mortals.
As he stalked her, Francesca followed his path, staying nearby. Something was wrong to her, about how he had suddenly decided to just…leave. Things like that just weren't…how to say, normal. You didn't disappear after begging to be let go. Upon seeing his body language as he literally followed in that waitress's footsteps; it bothered her.
The strike. He had planned it, attacking when she had been alone. The attack had been so sudden; she had been frozen with fear. Her eyes remained open, and so they would stay. He cared not so much as to make it appear that his meal was just asleep. No, a meal was a meal, and nothing could change that.
Breaking the skull was always the hardest, especially when it came to teenagers and adults, when that meddling helmet of bone was at its hardest. Thankfully, he had learned that he could get into that blessed cavity that held the prize of the brain; the powering agent for the rest of the body through the ear. Indeed, when the eardrum was ruptured and then blown out, the brain could be accessed with ease. Problem was, he still needed to return to Francesca, and that was the messiest of ways to get to the brain.
Rather, he employed the method of ripping open the scalp and pounding against the skull until it broke. Using his teeth that were immune to pain, he tore away the leathery coating of the scalp, and punched against that bone impatiently. He needed food more than anything in the world now; it was truly a need. If he didn't feed, he would become brainless and thoughtless, putting Francesca's meaningful life in jeopardy.
A bit further away, Francesca stared in horror and yet intrigue, watching as the man she had taken in pushed through that poor woman's skull and tore at her brain, swallowing eagerly. What kind of monster was he? What kind of man ran around and murdered people for their brain? She had read about those sorts of people, but… Could it be? She glanced again, seeing his face and deadened eyes. How could she have not noticed that? People, no—humans…they had a glimmer in their eyes. But Ivan…he was no human. Was he really an undead nightmare? A man incorrectly resurrected?
In other words…a zombie?
A/N Alright guys, because I feel weird thinking everyone's gonna be asking, when Ivan sees memories of Francesca, he takes the part of a doppelganger, meaning it's in first person. That's why I wrote it that way.