"You know, it's actually a blessing you two never had kids together," the attendant continued, oblivious to George's barely-contained outrage. "Can you imagine how heartbroken they'd be, growing up without a mother because some pathetic, lowlife punk. How are you holding up?"
George shifted uncomfortably, his eyes drifting past the well-meaning man to the queue of impatient customers behind him.
His gaze hardened as he took in the irritated expressions and barely-concealed glares of the people waiting in line. To them, he was just another obstacle, an inconvenient delay in their quest for a late-night snack. They couldn't care less about his personal tragedy or the attendant's kindly concern.
George's lips tightened into a thin line, his jaw clenching. He appreciated the attendant's words, he really did, but in that moment, all he wanted was to get his food and leave. The last thing he needed was to recount his pain and sorrow for the benefit of strangers who wouldn't understand, who would never truly grasp the depth of his loss.
Turning his attention back to the attendant, George's expression was sharp, his eyes glinting with a mixture of grief and impatience.
"I'm managing," he said curtly, his tone making it clear that he didn't wish to elaborate further. "Look, can we just...?" He trailed off, nodding towards the menu behind the counter.
The attendant seemed to pick up on George's discomfort, his own expression softening with understanding. With a small nod, he straightened up, slipping back into a more professional demeanor.
"Of course, of course," he said quickly. "What can I get for you tonight, George? Your usual?"
George gave a curt nod, already fishing out his crumpled bills. He could feel the weight of the other customers' gazes boring into his back, their silent impatience palpable. But in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. All that mattered was getting his food and retreating back into the solitude of his own thoughts, away from well-meaning condolences and judgemental stares.
As the attendant set to work on his order, George found himself gazing unseeing at the menu, his mind drifting back to happier times – times when he and Carmen would come here together, laughing and talking without a care in the world.
Those days seemed like a lifetime ago now, a cruel mirage taunting him with the life he had lost. Swallowing hard, George blinked away the memories, forcing himself back to the present. One step at a time, he reminded himself. One foot in front of the other, no matter how difficult the path ahead might be.
Now however, there was a different problem. All these people, these nutrient filled sacks walking around him. It was becoming tougher just hanging on. Could he really wait for his usual order?
"Fuck this!!" George muttered underneath his breath.
He snatched up the overpriced nutrient bar, not caring about the handful of crumpled bills left behind. His control was hanging by the barest thread, fraying more with each agonizing second trapped among all these tempting, oblivious humans.
George turned and rushed towards the exit, desperate to escape before he finally lost his brutal struggle for restraint completely.
But just as he reached the doors, the heavyset man Frank, still struggling to move the heavy crates alone, suddenly lost his balance atop the stepladder with a pained cry.
The man managed to brace himself somewhat as he fell, but not enough to prevent his head from smashing against the corner of the wooden crate. There was a meaty thunk and then a sickening crack as Frank's skull impacted the solid surface, instantly causing a gash to open up across his forehead.
Warm, viscous blood began seeping out, the rich coppery scent filling the entire shop. George's vampiric instincts kicked into overdrive at the tantalizing aroma, his mouth watering involuntarily as his body tensed to strike.
"No...not now, not here!" he growled through gritted fangs, his fingernails elongating into razor-sharp claws as the predator within him roared to be unleashed.
As soon as the heavyset man Frank crumpled to the ground, customers and employees rushed over to help, except for George.
He forced himself to keep his distance, knowing getting any closer could shatter his rapidly crumbling restraint.
Amidst the commotion surrounding Frank's fallen form, George's preternatural senses detected another presence lurking just beyond the fray.
A tall, rail-thin figure hung back in the shadows, observing the bloody scene with an unsettling, predatory intensity. Like a famished lion fixating on a wounded gazelle.
George's brow furrowed as he studied this mysterious stranger. "Who is that? And why is he staring with such...hunger?" he wondered with disquiet.
The mysterious person turned and rushed out of the shop, disappearing through the door like a spectre.
It was as if this person, too, was desperately struggling against some dark, inhuman urge - an impulse not dissimilar to the primal thirst currently ravaging George from within.
The rich, copper stench of Frank's spilled blood hung thick in the air, becoming increasingly overwhelming for George. He needed to vacate this enclosed space immediately before his faltering restraint finally snapped.
Pulling his hood lower, George hurried for the exit, noting the strange lurker had sprinted off in the opposite direction from his path home. But when he glanced down that darkened street, there was no sign of the mysterious figure whatsoever. He seemed to have vanished into thin air.
"How did he just disappear like that?" George puzzled, thoroughly unnerved. However, he didn't have long to dwell on the peculiarity, he needed to leave.
Just as soon as George turned away, an indistinct shadow suddenly blurred past him from his periphery, accompanied by a strange, high-pitched whickering sound.
He whipped his head around just in time to see that same shadowy blur zip right back through the shop's entrance with unnatural speed.
"What the hell was that?"