The Thirst

Burn. It burns. It feels as if glass shards are sliding down her throat while her skin radiates heat like a furnace. The night breezes offer no comfort as she stumbles through the alleyway. Her vision is spinning, stained with red as she can barely control her bloodlust. The murmuring of people chatting on the faraway street sounds so deafening that it makes her want to puke. Sensory enhancement is something she never wished to experience. Her head throbs badly as she tries to find a way to subdue this torture. Her feet feel like lead with each clumsy step. Suddenly, she stumbles into someone. She frowns at the smell of cigarettes, her heated skin tingling as a rough hand is placed atop her bare shoulder. She can't hear what the man says properly, only making out a low, dangerous chuckle as his fingers travel across her skin. His voice is loud, far too loud. "Oh my, did someone feed you something you shouldn't have, little bird?" Her flustered face, desperate gasps, and heated skin serve as a confirmation without words. She bites her lip, struggling weakly against his touch, but the man only leads her deeper into the alleyway. No. Don't touch me. Her mind screams, but not in panic. Bloodlust overlaps disgust as she finally moves, slamming the stranger against the wall and opening her maw to take a bite. Her fangs stop right as their tips pierce his skin, drawing a single bead of blood before she pushes him away, growling like a wild animal while clutching her head. "Leave... Leave... LEAVE!" She hears the sound of leather shoes scrambling away accompanied by terrified curses, but there is something far more serious she needs to deal with. Her legs can no longer hold her up, and she collapses. The girl hides her burning face in both hands, sobbing muffledly with dilated pupils. Her ruby-like eyes glow menacingly in the dark. "I don't want this... I don't want this. I don't want this. I don't want this. I don't want this. I DON'T WANT THIS!" She used to walk among people under the sun. She used to eat so many sweet and savory foods without a care in the world. She owned a whole closet filled with pretty clothes. Now, she can only come out after the sun sets. Blood is the only thing that doesn't taste like dust. She can't even comb her hair properly because her reflection no longer exists in the mirror. The girl lies flat on the ground, staring dully at the moon as she waits. It's ironic how, even without the sun, it feels as if her skin is turning to ash. People say that time of the month always hurts like a punch to the gut, but it surely can't be worse than feeling her organs melting inside. Maybe she should close her eyes and accept this. Someone once told her that if she was hungry, she should just sleep it off, right? Who knows—maybe if she just takes a nap, the next time she opens her eyes, everything that happened tonight will just be a bad dream. Her body feels heavy and her throat aches badly as she wilts like a fading flower. At least she can feel proud that she hasn't fed on anyone since the turn. As her vision goes hazy, something cold touches her skin. One droplet. Then two. Then a downpour. Her red eyes widen as the rain falls heavily. Cold. So cold. It feels so good. The droplets hit her skin like needles, but she only focuses on how they soothe the burn. She reaches her hand up, her eyes crinkling as a faint chuckle escapes her lips. "At least when I pass away, the sky is crying for me..." She never liked being cold before, having spent most of her time eating hotpot or cuddling under a warm blanket. However, this time, she embraces it willingly.