The house was quiet. Anna had only remembered on the way home that she'd told Hope she'd only be out an hour, but had looked at the clock in the hospital before she left to see that she'd been gone for nearly three hours by then. She'd expected to go in to hear a bombardment of rage from Hope. But all was calm.

'Hell-' Anna began as she poked her head around the door of the living room. Seeing Hope asleep on the sofa, a bottle of wine next to her, Anna backed away.

'I hope she's been asleep long enough to think that I got back in time…' She didn't want to talk about Pearl to Hope, it was all too raw.

Anna was about to go upstairs when she froze. There was someone in the kitchen. Anna turned, putting her coat over the banister, and silently peering through the crack in the kitchen door.

'Oh, Hell. There's a burglar!' A man in a balaclava was rifling through the drawers. Anna went to back away, to wake Hope, but her foot slipped – her evening had taken away her normal dexterity, and she caught the banister with one hand, but still crashed to the floor. The man's head snapped up. There was only a murmur from Hope, she stayed sleeping soundly. He opened the door, a knife, one's of Hope's kitchen knives, glittering in his hand. Fear built up inside her, without a thought, Anna sprung, snapping the man's neck between her hands, his body collapsing under her as they crumpled to the ground. She let instinct take over, after a whole night of holding it back and drank deeply of the intruder's life, making it her own.

She noticed Hope come out the living room all too late, she tried to close the door, realizing that she was covered in Pearl's blood, her own tears – the reason for her seemingly insatiable hunger – and now the blood of her latest victim. They faced each other for a time. Then Hope screamed and headed for the door.

'OH NO YOU DON'T!' Anna's instinct kicked in again and she coiled like a spring, jumped, and made it to the door before her foster mother. Hope screamed again, backing away but tripping over Anna's fallen coat. Anna took the chance and leapt at her, pinning her to the ground, biting into her neck. She continued to scream, the loudness reaching its peak, before she started to gurgle on her own blood, it spurted from her mouth. Her eyes scared and confused. Anna pulled back. Guilt and compassion filled her.

'I'm sorry, love…' she stroked the side of Hope's face, 'I'm sorry…'

In a display of undead compassion, Anna twisted her neck at an awkward angle. She heard the crack to signify that it had crushed a vertebrae and Anna sank backwards, sobbing on the floor.

'What 'ave I done?' Anna cried against the stairs, her bloody tears soaking the carpet, she inhaled the familiar smell, never before had she found the smell of Hope's never consumed home cooking so comforting. It reminded her of home.

'Mum…' She whispered quietly 'If there's such a thing as ghosts or spirits or whatever, please come to me now. I need you!'

Nothing. No one came. No one was left to come.

Anna knew she had to leave. She couldn't hide these bodies. A missing burglar and her foster mother. Greta was visiting later in the week, even if Anna did leave them, they'd soon be found out. No, she had to leave. And now. She didn't bother to change, she was wearing black and in the dark, the blood wouldn't be so noticeable. She opened the front door for what would be the last time and closed it behind her with a click. It was a final sound.

'One thing I have to do first…'