A Late Evening Snack

The stinging pitch of singing steam rang over the soft music and the hum of mumbled words. The dark, thick smell conquering the fading smell of wet floor cleaner clinging in the cracks of the floor. The bight yellow sign stuck out with warning. Warning. Did she need a warning? There was so much noise in her head, it was hard to tell if she was a danger or not. The knife of the mornings memories up to the hilt in her mind. The anxious tightness in her neck that just wouldn't fade. She hadn't mean to let the bastard escape. If he knew better, he wouldn't say anything. That wasn't the problem though, the problem was her itch that hadn't been scratched. He desires banging on the door, hard to contain.

She eyed the older man across the shop, waiting for

his drink. He looked irritated. He'd been complaining for a while about waits,

and rushes and other problems that weren't anyone else. That always made her

mad. Who yells at people just doing their jobs? They didn't make you work that

extra shift or drive that extra mile or wait that extra five minutes. She

flexed her tense hands. He was a bit bigger than she usually went, more muscular.

But she was riled up enough. It would be fine.

She watched him leave. She stood, recycling her cup

on the way out and picking up another that someone had left right out the door,

what kind of monsters littered? The man didn't notice, still bitching

under his self-important breath. Excitement filled her as they turned into the

dark alley. Her eyes grew with ecstasy as she grabbed the man's neck and

smashed his head into the grey brick, now a rich burgundy, like a monarch's

gown. Beautiful. He wasn’t even given the chance to cry for help, to even

register the coming end of his life. She doubted he had anyone who would miss

him anyway. At the memory of his poor-mannered interactions with the kind staff

at Kondel’s Coffee, she crashed his head into the brick for a second time. She

did it again. Again. Again. It wasn't enough.

She ran her hands down his ragged, jerking chest.

She hit his stomach and pushed. Her adrenaline-strength allowing her to push

her hand through the thick skin. Deliciously-sickening sounds emerging from his

throat and the tearing flesh. His doe-eyes lost their light as she felt around,

digging, digging, she pulled. Tubes of flesh tangled themselves around her

hands. She sighed and dropped them. That was so so much better. She ran her

soaked hands up her neck, rubbing the easing knots up her scalp. The muscles decompressing

and falling soft. Her shoulders dropped in utter satisfaction. The solace

braided through her spine. Her whole being sighing in relief. Finally, finally

she could eat. It'd been so long.  Her

stomach growling in raw excitement.

              She licked her fingers cleaned. The metallic taste intensified by the coffee she finished only minutes before. Though coffee was always satisfying, nothing was ever as fulfilling of this. She made a show of cleaning of her last finger, twisting it on her tongue, ensuring she tasted every drop. He was clearly big on desserts. His blood had that unmistakable sweetness to it. She usually liked them a bit more savory, but she wasn’t about to complain. A meal is a meal. And this was practically a buffet. She tore into her meal. Contentment crawling down her spine.

              A scream pierced through her sensitive ears. She looked up, oh no. It was one of the baristas. Their eyes locked. She couldn’t kill this person. They hadn’t done anything. She wasn’t a guilty sinner. She abandoned her meal and stood. Her eyes softened, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

She ran.

She ran faster than she had in a while, a desperate sprint.

Stupid.

 It was stupid. She was messy, too excited. She should have taken him somewhere else to eat. She was just so hungry. The streets were familiar, but the terrified faces were not. She usually had time to clean up. Not this time. Her eyes darted around quickly, a predator possibly meeting their maker. A frantic attempt at self-preservation. She could hear the sirens. Of course.

              The lights were just becoming brighter. She was going the wrong way! Her head whipped around, looking for an out, any out. This is why her mother taught her to never hunt of a Friday. Her constant success in secrecy made her cocky and now she was caught. Flashing lights were quickly approaching from all sides. She was cornered and exposed. Her tired legs stopped their escape. Where could they go anyway. She eyed the building behind her, it was a risk but maybe…

              Her claws sank into the stone. She pulled herself up. If she got to the roof, she could vanish into the night like she so craved to do. She continued to pull herself up as car doors opened and slammed, warning shouts surrounded her. She tried to ignore them, focusing on her climb. Her eyes widened when a bullet struck the rock next to her face. They were shooting at her. She tried to speed her climb but she was so tired. It’d been so long since her last meal and all she wanted was sleep. Another bullet grazed past her, breaking the window beside her. Her hand turned wildly, trying to find a quicker way up.

              Suddenly, a ripping pain shot up her back. A burning sting that passed through her. The noise of the shot echoing in her ears after it’d already sank into her. Her claws flexed before they failed her. Her hands went limp and she started to fall. It seemed slow, her drop. The metallic burn of pain ran throughout her body. Her breath left her in a long sigh. Then… then she hit the ground. A darkness seemed to be closing in around her. The sounds and shouts drowned to nothing in her ears. Another breath, ragged. But… she couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t hear anything. The almost permanent hunger usually residing within her was gone. The ugly hunger she was born with. There was never a moment without it until right now. She didn’t feel empty. The relief was immeasurable  She felt herself smile. Finally. Finally, she was full.