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1

Phil

Let me get this clear, I didn't mean to bite the young human.  But I didn't regret it.  I had been starving.  Due to the murder of my Turning Father, Alfred, I was starving myself for as long as I could.  So were all the others Alfred had turned.  But the human, he had been alone.  And he smelled so good.  So tantalizingly delicious as he walked slowly away from the park.

I smelled the blood because he had cut his lip.  It wafted off him in strong waves, in beautiful rolling walls of the scent.  I smelled the blood from my seat down the street from him.  It had been early morning, and the sun had not yet rose.  He was all alone.  Walking slowly, walking with a carefree stride, even though he held his hand against his lip.

So I waited.  And I waited for the perfect moment.  Blood like this, delicious, delicate humans like this couldn't be wasted, but they couldn't be grabbed prematurely.  And when he stopped, and the strong, beautiful scent of the blood was almost overwhelming, I dashed at him.

And because I was stronger and faster than any human, as well as the fact that I was a strong vampire, he hit the ground quickly.  I made sure his head didn't hit, for risk of harming his precious body more than was needed.  The scent of blood was dizzying, overpowering.  So tantalizingly close that I was almost angry.  The boy was struggling beneath me, but I didn't feel it.

When I bit down, it was the best feeling in the world.  I felt the human shake and scream, I could feel the fear, the panic, the anger, that radiated from him in those few seconds.  But when his blood hit my tongue, I lost it.  My eyes closed, and all feeling aside from the blood on my tongue and the warm liquid dripping down my throat faded.  I drank.  It was a beautiful feeling, a beautiful taste.  I hadn't fed in almost two months now. 

But when his skin began to go cold I pushed away.  I had left just enough blood for him to live.  Yet he was laying there on the ground.  Unconscious.  His blood was still there.  The scent and the taste still dominated my senses. 

I got my first, non-starved look at his face.  He was unhealthily pale, but it was probably because of me.  But even then, he seemed like he naturally would be pale.  He had a soft, slightly round face, and his eyes were closed.  He was a pretty human.  With pretty hair.

But the sun was coming up.  I pulled my sleeves down and looked away.  Contrary to popular belief, vampires don't burn in the sunlight.  We don't sparkle, no, but we don't burn.  Instead we burn.  What humans call sunburn.  We burn very easily, so I had to work fast, or my face and hands would be peeling for weeks.

My mind started to think, to chase thoughts around in a wobbly circle.  I could leave the human, let him be found by other humans.  Or he would die on the sidewalk, with the lack of blood in his system.  Or I could take him.  With me or for me.  He could live with me, help me with the newly turned vampires.  I could use him and feed off of him whenever I liked.

I was about to leave him when I thought of his blood again.  Of the beautiful taste, the beautiful scent.  A car went past and a weak beam of sunlight hit the ground.  I had to think fast or I would get caught, or burnt. 

I looked at the human, then at my hands.  Some of his blood was on my fingers.  I licked it, and the feeling rushed back to me.  Before I knew it I had picked the human up in my arms and raced off to the safety of the shadowed buildings.

It would be a ways until I got to my car.  Yes, I do have a car.  Just because we're vampires doesn't mean we're stuck in the early 20th century.  It doesn't work like that, as sad as it is for some people. 

I cradled the human and pulled my sweatshirt hood up.  Not many people would be awake, walking at this time, but I walked through smaller streets and between buildings in order to be safe.  And, since it was winter, the air was cold.  But the human radiated heat.  He was like a furnace, and I was grateful for that.