If one listens in the dead of night, one hears things. Whispers in the wind and voices on the breeze. A little girl of no more than 8 certainly heard them.
"You're thirsty aren't you? Can you smell the tang of copper in the air? It's delicious."
The girl scuttled along the dark cobblestone road with the loud insistence of these voices, she WAS thirsty. She had been thirsty ever since Mother took her out of her cell and injected strange substances into her. Blood now sang to her, taunting and seducing her. It had a gorgeous voice. Her brittle nails had grown sharp and strong, allowing her to scratch at the door and eventually rip it away from its squeaky hinges. She had been following this particular copper scent for more than half a mile, it finally drew her here, to this damp alleyway in the deep recesses of Liverpool.
Sounds of a frenzied struggle could be heard and it alarmed her, she did not wish to be seen. The fear of standing out already strong enough due to her vibrant red hair, being seen and heard meant terrible things. She shuffled into the shadows and blended into them, becoming one with the darkness.
A weak voice sounded out
"No, please don't hurt me, I don't have any money"
"Give me your fucking keys bitch, hurry up." The man threatened.
A mousy looking man held a knife to a middle aged woman's throat, drawing a thin line of blood. He was shaking too, indicating that he was on some type of drug. She knew what that felt like, she'd been drugged many times before. His shaking hands caused the wound to open further, spilling more blood and coating his knife in it. The sweet scent wafted over to where the little girl was standing, it assaulted her senses and made her parched throat sting even more, she had a strange thought that maybe drinking the thick substance would make this all go away. She stepped from the shadows and edged closer to where they were standing. The woman spotted her first, her eyes widening.
Run, the woman mouthed.
Her actions caused the man to spin around brandishing his knife, thinking someone else was there. He lowered the weapon after seeing her, a small unsuspecting child.
Oh how he was wrong. Her nails lengthened and she felt a sharp pain in her gums, she would later discover that those were her fangs. The woman screamed and the man charged towards her. She moved quicker than she ever had before and sunk her lengthened fangs into the plump and pulsing veins on the man's neck. She could hear gurgles trying to escape his throat and screams in the air from the hysterical woman.
She was vaguely aware of movement around her and new voices speaking in low tones about her needing training and control, but she was too far gone, lost in the ecstasy that was blood.
All she remembers from that night was the horrified whisper of the dying man, his last thought formed into one barely coherent word, spoken like a bloody prayer.
"Monster"
He was right about that.