Can you pull the demon from inside? Will the penance make the nightmares go away?

Four days. It's only been four days. I shield my face in my hands. Who would think that someone who's already "lost it" would have anything else to lose? I can feel my willpower coming unraveled like the well worn threads of an old blanket. The physical pain from whatever malady that's eating away at me, at all of us here, doesn't compare to the slow debilitation of my brain.

As I struggle to hold it together, Mongrel tries to persuade me to drink some of the repugnant bagged blood that has been provided for us. Like a child forced to take down a shot of bitter cough syrup, I swig down a few mouthfuls. I read blatant concern in Mongrel's face as I thrust the unsatisfying fluid back in his hand. I'm genuinely befuddled as to why he takes on the burden of caring for me. I'm the antithesis of any morals he holds standard to. Perhaps he sees that tiny shred of humanity that hasn't been destroyed through my own actions, or the actions of my maker. Could any amount of repentance truly hold a candle to the atrocities I've committed?

But what I do. I do it because I need it. The gnawing, gouging compulsion to turn mortals into pulp. The voices and shadows that dance in the corners of my vision never go away, but when I'm cutting into warm flesh and drinking the hot life fluid from within my victims...they seem farther away. Quieter, and easier to ignore. A psychiatrist could connect my thirst for children as a loss of innocence in myself. Not like any head shrinker ever had a chance to make those assumptions before their throats were ripped out. Oh, no. Now I'm thinking of succulent gullets and...breathe. Hold it together.

I spare a glance through my interlaced fingers into the room. The similarities between this basement storeroom and the bomb shelter I was embraced in are few. But, I still un-fondly reminisce. I remember the moment I realized my captor wasn't just inhuman, but actually NOT a human. He had cut too deep when carving up a section of my arm. His surprising control waned as he sunk his fangs into the broad furrow in my flesh. I thrashed and shrieked like a banshee. Up until that point I thought he was just a madman. Some lunatic who chose me as his prey. When I saw the gluttonous hunger of the monster in his eyes I screamed and begged for reprieve. Instead of my father's strong hands gently shaking me from a nightmare there was only the vast chasm of pain and terror. Why was this suffering befallen on me? I was chaste, incorruptible. A borderline virtuous young woman with the proverbial "whole life" ahead of me. Caught in the clutches of an immortal beast. On the night I was turned he drank from me deeper than any previous feedings. I half heartedly thought maybe he finally decided to kill me. When his own cursing vitae was forced into my dying mouth I necessitated a fruitless struggle. My body died along with any innocence I could hold onto. My senses were anew and my mind was a whirling kaleidoscope of mirthless dissolution from my former self. No longer seeking escape or a savior, I wanted nothing more than to bathe in the entrails of the creature who had given me this new life...and anyone else that crossed my path. After the obliteration of my maker and my prison I had little control or knowledge of this new life and the endless nights that followed. I executed a mini massacre in the first town I came through. Stopping only when the sun's rays started touching the blood soaked land and threatened to conflagrate me. I took refuge in the choking dark under a sewer grate. I felt nothing for the lives I had just extinguished. No martyred need to expose myself to the murderous sunlight and expiate my sins. It was only time and the whispered legends and truths of the Camarilla policy that halted my deadly free for all. I learned to be cautious and to clean up after myself so unnecessary questions wouldn't be asked. Other than the old faithful question: "Why are you doing this to me?!" I became the beastly mock up of a human that I am today. Capable of keeping the roaring of inner demons sated with intricate dissections of living flesh.

I even tried the virtuous vampire route. Only killing and feeding from criminals and the like. It was dissatisfying. I never caught the questioning fear that comes from the innocent. The "why me?" These human monsters, they knew why. Knew they deserved what was coming to them. The blood never tasted as sweet. Always muddy. Scummy. The drug addicts tasting of the filth they smoked, snorted and pumped into their veins. The aftermath always made my already jumbled head feel fuzzy.

Coming back into the now, my eyes focus on my forced companions. The two larger ones are delving into a chess match. One of the few methods of entertainment in the room. The one who earlier introduced himself as Cecilius is perusing the singular piece of literature. His eyes occasionally peer over the book to scrutinize my conduct. I know if it comes to my having a hysterical episode, that one would gladly turn me into a pile of ash. Mongrel, sensing the impending crisis has been halted, places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I reach up and give his hand a brief clasp, sighing internally, knowing I have only temporarily kept the madness at bay.

My mental state is all a-jumble. As I sit around and sadly mumble.

Against what's probably my better judgement, I tag along with Mongrel to Elysium. I've been once or twice but honestly haven't made an effort to...eh...integrate with the other Kindred? I'm told I shouldn't be a recluse. A murderous, psychopathic lunatic maybe. But not a recluse. Pfft.

There's a new procedure at the door. Metal detectors, pat downs...the works. Heh, good thing I had the foresight to not bring any of my toys. I'm trying to behave myself, after all. As I enter the club I'm momentarily distracted by the mood lighting and pounding bass of the music. Oh my. There's more than a few mortals here, tonight. My decision to gorge myself before heading out was a good idea. I'm broken out of my inner fugue by familiar, shrill laughter. I check in with my mind-bogglingly cheerful primogen, Serendipity. As I have on prior occasions, I find myself partly annoyed and partly envious of his seemingly constant joyous manner. Why couldn't I have ended up a happy lunatic, instead of...eh...whatever. I'm approached by another fellow Malkavian. He introduces himself as Trevor. Seems tolerable. His demeanor could almost pass for sanity. He departs and I'm scanning the room for Mongrel, feeling unnerved. Before spotting him I catch the most appealing scent. Subtle floral with mouthwatering sweet tones. I spot a lovely young mortal following closely behind a large affable looking Kindred. Her head is down, her two pigtails sweeping her shoulders. I smile, hungrily. What a perfect excuse to socialize! I approach them both and introduce myself. The servants name is Rose. “How delicious...ah..nice to meet you.” My slip of the tongue is marked by a squeeze at my elbow. I glance to my side and Mongrel's there, giving me his patented warning glare. Ah, piss. The four of us make small talk. Luckily Guillame doesn't seem too peeved at my hunger directed towards his servant. As they walk away I take a few unintentional steps to follow before catching another glare. I pout, but follow Mongrel to a spot against the wall. As I watch the throng of Kindred and Kine, my eyes continue to tick over to Rose. I seem to be one of the only people that notices her so thoroughly. She appears to meander around but under her bowed head her eyes constantly scan her surrounding, her head tilting in the most minuscule amount to catch snippets of conversation. Well, well. Tasty AND useful. Too useful to eat? An alluring Toreader introduces herself as Lucita and offers a consolation gift for a missed something or other. I accept the gift with glee and the slightest sense of suspicion. I spend good hunk of the night tracking young Rose when Mongrel isn't keeping an eye on me and entertain myself by snatching Serendipity's hat. Alas, the inside of his hat doesn't divulge any of his secrets so I give it back, disappointed.

The night takes a different turn as Mongrel entices me to join in a hunt for a group of independents. I'm tentative but my interest is piqued so I agree to go. The two of us join up with a trio of suited types and the Gangrel primogen, Ylva an adorable and violent ten year old. We follow the trail to a properly ominous looking cave. Someone inquires as to what to do with whomever or whatever we find in the cave. “We fucking kill them.” says the bite size Gangrel. Oh, I like her! We enter the cave single file, I bring up the rear, just behind Mongrel. As much as I love some carnage and bloodshed I'm a big fan of my own hide, so having a hasty exit route is my priority right now. I smell the immortals before I set eyes on them. Dirty looking creatures, with bone spurs jutting from their extremities. In a second, both groups converge on each other. Ylva guts and beheads one. Mongrel's tearing into another. The stuffed suits are dealing with the other two. I tense to join in when the smell assaults my senses. Somethings...wrong. Before I can put any coherent thought together, Mongrel decapitates the beast he's sparring with...receiving a face full of a black, tarry substance. On the other side of the cave one of the suits gets a ebony shot of goo in the eye. The smell is awful. The beasts are dead but it seems the trouble isn't over. The suit is frantically wiping at his eye with a handkerchief. I glance at Mongrel, who's looking a little green around the gills. I open my mouth to crack a clever remark and receive a shower of vitae and ichor. Theres a body fluid I have yet to be soaked in. I knuckle Mongrel's vomit out of my eyes in time to see the suit blowing a similar load. This can't be good. We attempt to vacate the cave. Ylva stops two of the suits, Mongrel and I at the mouth. We're told to stick around here until further instruction. My stomach churns. “That's great. But y'know I'm just a tad claustrophobic and...” I let loose a spew of vomit onto the leather suit coat of the guy in front of me. I snort laughter and immediately regret it as the bile assaults my taste buds. Christ on a cracker. The look on Ylva's face lets us know ain't one of us getting past her. So, we wait. I pace the rocky floor until the walls start to spin a bit. After a significant amount of time the vomit soaked group of us are corralled into a van. The drive is long and quiet, save for the sounds of retching and Old Blue Eyes crooning through the speakers.

When we finally reach our destination, the van pulls in front of the most ridiculously regal house I've ever set my mad eyes on. The van door slides open and we're greeting by half a dozen faceless folk in full biohazard suits. This is promising. “Oh hey! It's a welcoming committee!” I jump out of the van, surprising the closest bio-man with a refuse coated embrace. His pure shock is probably the only thing that keeps him from lopping my head off. We're hustled through the mansion and I try to sneak glances at the splendor as we head into the lower levels of what I'm made aware is the Sheriff's house. We stop at a what looks like a bank vault. 
One of the bio-men heft open the door and direct us in. Everyone hesitates. “Is this going to be a problem? Or are you all going to go in calmly and quietly?” The van driver goes in first, followed by the suits, leather coat being supported by the other two. I cast a glance at Mongrel, but he seems too ill to put up a fight. 
All eyes are on me as I huff and head into the subbasement. “I'll be damned if I'm gonna be quiet about this! Ahh! AHH!” My yelling turns to a coughing fit and I cut myself off to prevent another puke explosion. The room is elegant but sparse. Couches, chairs, a TV and a small fridge. Leather coat collapses on the nearest couch and one of the taller suits checks the mini fridge. A quantifiable amount of bagged blood is in there. No fucking way. I don't do fast food. We're informed that we are under quarantine for the next three weeks until the Tremere figure out what it is we're infected with and how to get us...uninfected. Outside communication is cut off. The last of the bio-suits leave the room and the vault door slams. The click of an industrial strength lock echoes around the room. “This is going to be fucking fantastic for my business.” one of the suits gripe. Leather guy scratches at his skin were several angry looking boils are raising. I'm afraid to look at my own skin so I glance at Mongrel, whose taken a spot on the floor. Sure enough, he's prodding similar boils with his claws. We share a wordless look of distress. I shrink into a crouch, balancing on my heels as I strenuously ponder my situation. Locked in the Sheriff's basement for three weeks with three strangers all of whom are sharing some unknown, infectious, festering disease. Nothing but bagged blood. I am not going to do well at all. I already feel the first tugs of hysteria and hunger for a fresh, tenderized kill. How will I control the madness if I have no playthings to dissect? Mongrel can only help so much once the voices start. How long before reality cracks and I start tearing apart everything in my reach? And how long after that before one of the suited strangers puts my rampaging to an end with True Death? I'm so fucked. Ass fucked, even. Sans lubrication. I bounce up and grab one of the chairs. Situating it facing the wall, I sit, head down and fingers interlacing across my scalp. I close my eyes and imagine nice things, like limbless strippers and small children with flayed skin, as I count the seconds.

It's quite decieving as I'm feeling the flesh make me bad.

It's after midnight. I'm following the coordinates on my GPS to a secluded clearing in the forest to meet...what was his name again? Dillon, right. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Some poor sap who thinks he's getting lucky tonight. More like, he'll be lucky if I make it quick for him. The real reason I agreed to this midnight foray into the woods has a lot to do with Dillon's position as Scout Leader. As in, Cub Scouts. As in, a half dozen delectable nummy treats ranging from 8 to 11 years old. Oh, sweet mystery of life at last I found you.

I smell them before I even catch sight of the tents. Licking my lips in anticipation I switch my bag to the other shoulder and approach the tent I know my Scout Leader is in. I slowly run my nails along the tent fabric and whisper "Little pig, little pig. Let me come in." 
I hear a shuffling inside the tent and his voice comes from the other side of the door flap. "Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin. And who are you calling a pig?" The zipper comes down and Dillon pulls me down on the sleeping bag next to him. He's kinda cute for a human, I guess. Dirty blond hair, eyes the color of dark coffee, body ropey with muscle. Wonder if he'll put up much of a fight? "You're my greedy little piggy." I say with a smirk. Despite my awkward attempt at flirting, he responds with a flurry of kissing and touching. I respond in a way I know is appropriate, but my mind is elsewhere. Distracted by the six little boys in the tents nearby. Only in the most violent sense, of course. I'm a psychopath...not a pedophile. I roll on top of Dillon's eager form. Slowly nibbling my way to his throat, he lets out a quiet moan as I sink my fangs into his soft throat. I take deep swallows of his sweet plasma as I feel the deep, tittering need bubbling its way to the surface. I trace a hand down his chest tantalizingly, pausing at his sternum. His moans of pleasure turn into a shriek that pierces the night as I thrust a fist into his chest. He puts up decent struggle, actually managing to get a hand around my throat before I dig my claws into his heart and pop it like a water balloon.

I hear inquiring young voices, sleepy and confused, outside the tent. Removing my forearm from Dillon's chest cavity, I step out of the tent. The young boys take in the sight of my gore streaked limb and the blood around my mouth.
The oldest boy grabs the two closest to him and frantically starts dragging them along. "Toby! Andrew! C'mon, run! RUN!" Two of the other boys take off in another direction. The most terrified of the six is still rooted to the spot. His body trembles like a sapling in high winds. The fear comes off of him in intoxicating waves.
I bend down into a squat, beckoning to him. "Come here kid. Come to me and it will be quick for you." He approaches me. Still quivering he steps into my embrace. I place my hand in his wispy hair, bending his head back. My fangs penetrate his soft neck and I let the sweet nectar run into my mouth for several moments. He whimpers in pain, and I reply: "Shut it. I said I'd make it quick." through a mouthful of his flesh. Pulling my face away from his I snap his neck in a brisk movement. The young body falls to the ground and I straighten myself and tilt my head to the wind, breathing in deeply. The two boys haven't gotten far. They went with the tactic of hiding rather than trying to run for help. I reach back into the tent and grab my bag, pulling out a collapsible steel truncheon and a wrist crossbow. I'm fairly excited to use the crossbow. It's crude but I need something to hinder one while I'm dealing with the other. Trekking further through the trees, I follow the sharp scent of the boys terror. I find one at the bottom of a tall pine. He doesn't see me so I scan the area for the other boy. I smell him but...wait. Looking up in the tree I see the older of the two perched on a branch with a heavy looking rock in his hands. Oh what endearing little Cub Scouts! I suppose they were planning to attempt an ambush. Too cute. I point my crossbow into the tree, centering in between rock boys eyes. I let the steel tipped mini arrow fly. Bulls eye. His corpse falls from the tree onto the ground in front of the other boy. The boy opens his mouth to scream and I'm in front of him in an instant, whipping the truncheon across his face, knocking out most of his teeth and turning his screams into warbling. Theatrically, I taunt the child. "Are you trying to sing me a song, boy? What will your mommy and daddy sing when they find your carcass?" I grab him by the shoulders and bite into his throat, tearing a large chunk of flesh away. His jugular sprays me with fresh blood and I toss him to the side to let him bleed out into the dirt. I nudge the other boy with my toe. Ok. No more crossbow. Too quick and boring. I let my nose take in the aroma of the other three boys, a bit further in the opposite direction. I set off after them at a brisk pace, but not a full run. I want them to feel that flicker of hope that they might get out alive. Pawing through my bag as I trot along I stow the blood stained truncheon and crossbow and grab my taser. Perfect. Enough juice to subdue, but not kill. Not until I'm ready.

I hear the boys sneakers thudding through the loam and the frantic beating of their hearts as I close in on them. I point my taser at the slower of the three and take him down as I leap into a tackle and land on the back of the skinniest boy. The oldest makes it past me, stumbles a few times when he dares to look back but rights himself and darts deeper into the woods. That's fine, I've got all night. I rise from the dirt, pulling the boy along with me to stop in front of his friend, still dazed from the taser shot. "Yoohoo, Toby. Here's a sneak peek of what's coming to you. Spoiler alert: you're going to die." I force my captive to his knees and place the tips of my nails along his jawline. In one vicious movement I dig the nails in and pull up, stripping the flesh of his face from his skull. They boys are shrieking in surround sound as I bend down to lap the blood from the top of his forehead. I giggle and pull a blade from my bag. I quickly deliver a dozen stabs to the boys chest before moving to the tasered boy. He must of bounced back quick because he lands a punch to my ribs before I convey a kick that shatters his femur, forcing the fractured bone deliciously through the skin. I squat over his fallen figure, crushing his flailing arms under my feet. I draw the blade across his throat, cutting deep, almost decapitating him but not quite. Digging my hand into the wound I reach up and pull the root of the tongue through the opening. I've always wondered what a Colombian necktie looked like. I double over in laughter. Leaping to my feet, I once again stow my blade for a simple length of fishing line. This last one will be an easy find. I catch the last boy easily. He's winded, and doesn't even notice I'm there until I slip the fishing line around his neck and pull it taut. I hold it long enough for his face to turn from red to a deep purple as he drops to his knees unconscious. I release the line and shove it in my pocket while flipping the boy onto his stomach. I procure my filleting knife from my back and make brisk, broad incisions along his spine. Once the spine is exposed I gnaw away the ligaments and such that attach the spinal cord to the rest of his parts. The boy groans from underneath me, rising from unconsciousness. "Oh no you don't. You're not messing up my beautiful work!" I wrench the spinal cord from his back and swing it against his head, over and over until his skull is pulverized by his own back bone. I stand, shaking clots of flesh and slivers of bone from my hair as I ponder my options. Decision made, I collect both boys and heft them over my shoulder, smiling as I head back to the camp area. Within a half hour I have all six boys reconvened. Humming an old Johnny Mathis tune to myself I pull coils of heavy rope from my bag, tying off a line of it in between two trees. I lift and tether, using craftiness that Cub Scout leader Dillon would be proud of. With three hours until dawn my work is done. I make sure all of my toys are packed away as I heft my bag onto my should and take off towards civilization. The daisy chain of Cub Scouts swaying gently in between the trees.

All the demons in my head won't leave me. I know, I can hear them.

It's happening. Again! They chase me to the woods. How did they find me. I feel the breath of hundreds on the back of my neck. Teeth bared I turn to face my tormentors. How many times do I have to kill them? In my head. No! They're here. They tell me I am the crux of everything that goes bad in this world. I am the reason everything is good in this world. World wars, JFK, school shootings, mass genocide. I did all of that. No I didn't. You killed all those people. I did. All those people killed you. They're all here. I'LL KILL YOU AGAIN. Get out! Come back no one understands. Theres nobody here but you're not even here. Maybe I can get them all out, they're tearing the inside of my brain. He's there with. The knife. He picks pieces of myself out of his teeth. My knees want to buckle. You are what I made you and I made you in my image. No! You're not god. God is dead and no one cares if there is a hell I'll see you there. You're not inside of me. None of you. The voices of the dead are shrieking inside my cranium. I claw at my scalp not caring about the chunks of hair coming out under my nails. Why won't it stop? The trees are caterwauling. When did I get to the woods? I'M ONLY A MONSTER BECAUSE YOU MADE ME ONE. I hear my the mad chortling of my sire. I killed you. You're ashes and dust and I'm infected. I toss my head back and howl, a flock of birds take off chattering from the tree. I kick and gouge holes into the trunk. Falling into the dirt I look up. Marisa. I'm sorry. Her sweet face twists into a grimace as her skin disintegrates. Her rotten skeleton points a finger at me and her sweet voice echoes in my head. Your fault. Demon. Murderer. I feel scorching blood tears on my face. Why is my family here? All these specters are pointing their fingers at me. MONSTER. BEAST. Their voices are deafening. I can't scream over them. I can't beat them out of my skull. Nononononono. I'll kill them all again! I rush at each victim, frenzied. Ripping. Where there should be soft flesh there is fur. Unyielding rock. Splintering wood. Feathers. No! Forgive me! Forgive me! I don't WANT your forgiveness. No matter how much I destroy there is no cease to the shrieking and accusations. I sink into the ground. Curled up tight. I clench my eyes shut so tight they may never open again. No more. No more.

Hours. Days. Minutes. Later.

Coming back.

I'm coming back.

“Ah. Christ.” I palm blood and who knows what else out of my eyes. My hands are smutty with filth. Hefting myself out of the dirt and leaves I look around me. Oh, this again. It looks like a tornado touched down. I guess one kind of did. I laugh aloud. Trees are splintered, some are uprooted. There's animal corpses scattered around. Ugh. That's what I'm tasting. I spit in distaste. Touching the top of my head gingerly I feel the torn skin already healing, the hair growing back. I pick something off the forest floor. Well damn, this cell phone actually made it through one of my conniption fits. It's almost 6am. I feel a small tremor of panic at the threat of dawn. Can't make it back to shelter in time. Guess I'm going to ground for the day. I send a brief message to Mongrel. “Had an episode. Don't wait up. Sleeping in the woods.” I dig until a makeshift resting place is created. Crawling into the soil and pulling it on top of me my last thought before drifting into my day coma...fucking Malkavians.

The abused will abuse.

Even after meeting many Kindred from my own clan and others, I find myself ostracized from the immortals. While most understand the blood lust and savage need to feed, a spare few seem to have the untamed viciousness that I've harnessed since I was first embraced. Perhaps an overview of my creation would explain my violence better.

It was September of 1953. I was 16 and lived with my mother and father. My older sister and her husband lived in the guest house with their 2 year old daughter Marisa. The creature that eventually became my sire came into my house in the dead of night. He was so silent, I didn't even stir from my sleep until he crept in and ripped me from my slumber into a nightmare. Pulling me from my bedroom by my hair, he brought me into the den where my family had been gathered and restrained. One by one, I watched him destroy the bodies of my family. He saved Marisa for last. Against all common sense I charged at him as he peeled the flesh from my dear, sweet niece. His answering blow knocked me out cold.

When I awake I was in the dank bomb shelter that would become my home for over a year. I'd like to say most of the time was forgotten in the many years I've lived. It would be a lie. I remember every second of those 14 months. I never learned his name. He called me his monster. As a human, he was driven mad when his wife left him and drowned himself in alcohol until some misled Kindred thought he'd make a model vampire. I'd love to come across that blood sucking moron one day, but that's another story. I was the target for his rage and insanity.

In the summer of 1954 I turned 17. For my birthday, I received 17 lashes with a cat o' nine tails made from steel cord. That was the week he had to keep a gag on me for I couldn't move without screaming in agony. The hope for a white wedding one day was smashed as the monster took my maidenhood at knife point. With that same knife he savaged parts of my body never meant to feel the penetration of a blade. Shortly after the year anniversary of my time with him he came to the conclusion that turning me into an immortal would expand his horizons for torture. At that point my mind was practically shattered. Half the time there was no need to bind me as I accepted the afflictions, screaming at the right intervals and shedding tears when necessary. When my body died and I re-awoke a vampire a few pieces of my sanity came together. I kept up the act for another month and a half. He was positively gleeful at the new torments he could exact on me. Then. One night when he was branding an intricate design into my lower back and buttocks, I let out a giggle. I felt his hand with the fire poker pause. He tensed for my attack just a moment too late. I spun around and thrust my hands under the shelf of his jaw, wrenching the manible from it's socket. I had the advantage of pure surprise. A glancing blow at my chest shattered my clavicle but I barely noticed. I knocked him onto his back and ripped and tore into his flesh with my bare hands. Now was his turn to scream but I took away that chance when I clamped my jaws over his mouth and tore the lips from his face. It took over an hour but I rendered his body into shreds and chips of bone. I grabbed the kerosene lamp he used to light the shelter and upended it over what was his body. I picked up a box of matches, struck one and dropped the whole box into the mess. The blaze started quickly. I could feel the flames blistering my already scorched back as I calmly walk through the door of what was my prison into the cold November air. Burned, beaten and blood soaked, I turned my face to the sky and bellowed laughing into the night.

Will you surrender to me, my Marie?

I'm sitting in the diner watching the waitress. My coffee and pie slice sits untouched in front of me. I've got my eyes set on a different kind of snack. She works the night shift, just about every night.  Her shift ends in a little over a half hour, and afterwards her fiancee will pick her up. I've been scoping out this couple for a few weeks before I made my plan. I decided to dispatch with the fiancee quickly before spending my time with his wife to be.

I watch as the waitress flits from table to table, always with a smile on her face. Her name is Marie. At twenty minutes until quitting time the fiancee comes in and surprises her with flowers and a kiss. I watch unobtrusively, smiling down at my untouched plate. I hear him say he'll be at the car. It's a nice night to be outside. Five minutes after he walks out I rise from my window seat and follow his scent around to the employee parking lot. He's leaning against the trunk immersed in what must be an compelling text message. "Hey, Steve!"
He looks up and I see brief perplexity on his face. "Um, hi. Do I know you?"
I smile. "I'm Madelyn. A friend of Marie's."
"Oh!" he returns my smile and I shake his outstretched hand. He and I exchange pleasantries and small talk for a few moments. "Well, Marie's about to get off if you want to stick around and hang." "
Thanks but I've got somewhere else to be. I just wanted to introduce myself to the guy she talks about so much." I continue, grinning. "It was great to finally meet you". I reach my arms out for a hug and he responds in kind. I hear the acceleration of his heart as I tighten the embrace.
"What the..?" His heart sounds like an over enthused marching band as I turn my arms into a vice and sink my teeth into the side of his face. Gnashing and ripping, I shred his cheek and his left eye bursts under my fangs. I pull my head back and glance at him, wondering why he hasn't screamed. I notice the bubbling quality of his breathing and the light spray of blood that comes from each desperate exhale. Oops. I give one last crunching squeeze and drop his corpse after the gasp of his last death rattle. Guess that's what you call killing them with kindness. Baying with laughter, I look around guiltily. That was an awful pun...even for me.

Now, gotta clean up a bit before the main course gets out here. I prop Steve up in the drivers seat, buckling the seat belt to better hold up his crushed top half. Shutting the drivers side door, I take my spot hidden in the gloom by the dumpster. Ten minutes pass and I start to get antsy when I hear the familiar clip clopping of Maria's after work sandals. I give her a moment to take in the scene. She looks though the open window and the smile slowly melts off her face as she takes in her half-faceless, pulverized former groom to be. In the second it takes for her jaw to drop open in a scream I ambush her. Covering her mouth with one hand and wrapping my arm around her waist I drag her backwards into the wooded area behind the diner. She's whimpering and trying to dig her feet into the ground to thwart my movements. I give her face a threatening squeeze, not enough to break bone. I feel a fissure open on the side of her cheek bone. Whoops. Well maybe enough to fracture. Tears are pouring down Marie's face and I can't help but take a lick as I push her against the tree I plan on binding her to. Ah, the sweet salt taste of misery. “Now, I've come to a predicament. I need to restrain you but if I take my hand off your mouth you'll scream. Hmm...what to do.” A wicked smile creeps onto my face. “Oh! I know!” I remove my hand from her mouth. Poor Maria's sputtering and spewing out pathetic mewling inquiries. 
“Why? Why are you doing this!? Please!” 
I take advantage of her open mouth and thrust my hand in between her jaws. Damn slippery thing! I gain purchase on her tongue and with a vigorous yank I pull the muscle from her throat. Her questions have been reduced to inarticulate moaning. I reach into my messenger bag and pull out a handy length of rope, making short work of trussing her upright to the thick tree trunk. She's desperately trying to convey something to me through her mumbling but I don't have the patience or tolerance to try to decode her hoots and howls. I dig through my bag, pulling out my Ka-bar. Using just the tip of the blade I cut open her waitress uniform, exposing a truly lovely jade green bra and panty set. “Expecting a hot night with Steve?” Snorting laughter, I slip the blade in between the cups of her bra and saw away until her breasts are exposed. I see the flash of embarrassed fear in her eyes. “Hey don't worry, you're actually like, really pretty.” Not wanting to make her unnecessarily uncomfortable, I quickly cut away her panties in the same manner and run my fingertips along the soft skin of her slight paunch. “Been indulging in too many slices of diner pie?” Poor Marie is nearly frozen with fear as my blade dances along her stomach. My impatience gets the best of me as I draw the blade to the hollow spot right under her sternum. I drive the blade in just an inch or two and she squeals. I look deep into her eyes and thrust the knife in to the hilt. Mmm. Savor. Gotta take my time. I slowly pull the blade downward, opening a rift in her gut. The blood and bile makes a gentle pattering sound as it pours from the growing wound to soak into the dirt under our feet. The air has taken on a metallic scent that makes my mouth water. When my blade reaches her pubis I pull it out and set it on the ground. I pull apart the sides of her stomach and dig my hand around in her innards. Damn intestines always getting in the way. I loop a couple coils of intestine around her neck. “Hold these for me.” I giggle. I pause when I reach her uterus. Cocking my head to the side in curiosity I place a few fingertips on her womb. Oh, my! Looking into Marie's dying eyes, the hunger creeping into my voice “Congratulations...mommy.” I pull the apogee of her femininity out of her body and use my nails to claw open the organ. I've always enjoyed veal. Just like the trinket in a slice of King Cake.

Play dead. Be dead.

A car passes by. Flashy and fast, with a booming stereo. I can smell the liquor stink of the driver from the roadside. Keeping my head down, I think to myself: Nope. Not what I'm in the mood for. I need someone innocent. Maybe someone with a family. I giggle. Why not? A older SUV is approaching. A total dad van, going the speed limit. This holds a possibility. I stick my thumb out. The car passes me but hesitates. I grin inwardly as the brake lights flash. The SUV has one of those stupid family stickers on the back. Daddy, mommy, big brother and little sister. Even a freaking goldfish. I amble to the drivers window with my most wide eyed innocence face. The driver's a scholarly type. Glasses, brown hair with a hint of grey. Maybe late 40's. Handsome even.
"Can I help you young lady?" his voice is filled with sincere worry. Perfect.
"I'm sorry to stop you, sir." I furrow my brow and let moisture fill my eyes. "I got in a fight with my boyfriend and he kicked me out of the car. I left my purse, my cell phone...everything in there. I just want to get home."
His concern is practically tangible. "Of course, miss. A young lady shouldn't be walking out on her own this time of night. I'll give you a ride. This town can be dangerous."
Oh, you have no idea. I climb into the passenger seat and make a show of buckling my seat belt. The driver's listening to some podunk country station. If I wasn't sure about killing you before I certainly am now! 
“My name is Darren, I teach at the local college.” 
I stick my hand out to shake his. “I'm Madelyn.” He asks where I'm headed and I rattle off an address of the top of my head. The drive there is uneventful until he pulls in front of the obviously abandoned house I've led him to.
“This is where you live?” he asks, confused.
“No, but I'm pretty sure this is where you'll die.” I give him a minute to absorb my words before cold cocking him. I snort laughter at my own corniness before going about my business.

Professor Darren is finally coming to. He mumbles something groggily. “Hey Darren. How ya feeling? Is the rope too tight?” I emphasis the situation by giving the rope around his ankle an extra  yank. He's spread out beautifully on a scuffed up pool table. Like a flesh covered present that I'm almost vibrating with anticipation to unwrap. 
“What is this? What's going on? Wh...mpphhpt!” I shove the pre positioned ball gag into his mouth. Sometimes I'm just not in the mood for the what, why and how. I'm more in the mood for the muffled screams, tears and looks of terror that go hand in hand with my playtimes. He's struggling but I've tied my knots well. I've had lots of practice after all. His struggling ceases when he sees the Ka-bar. I rub my thumb along the familiar handle and smile pleasantly as I bring the blade tip to his stomach. Now Professor Darren attempts to thrash as I begin to part layers of his flesh. Oh. Oh there it is. Richer than the most robust wine. I continue cutting. Using a well taught technique to slowly flay the skin from the muscle. His struggles barely hinder my handiwork. Within minutes I've flayed the majority of skin from his torso. I hum disjointedly to myself as I run my fingers along the open musculature of his chest. Mmm. I'm getting so hungry. I tease the blade down one hipbone, drawing a thin line of blood. The good professor's penis lies distractingly limp at the apex of his spread thighs. I scrunch my face up and bring the blade between his legs. His eyes bulge and his previously muffled cries ascend to a bat sonar shriek as I slash through the cord at the base of his manhood and remove it with a careless yank. I make sure he gets an eyeful before tossing the useless hunk of meat aside. I continue the flaying along his pelvis and upper thighs until he gives a hearty jerk and the knife slips along his femoral artery. Whoops. The spray of blood is like a fountain, hitting me full force in the face and coating me with dripping red. I drop my knife onto the table and run my hand over my face, staring at the film of blood before licking a stripe clean along my palm. Snap. Frenzied lust. I vault on top of the mess that is Professor Darren and jam my hands into his pectoral muscles, relishing the crack of ribs before I bury my face in his chest cavity lapping and biting at the frantically beating heart. It's too soon that the heart stops beating and the flow of blood ceases. I lift my head from his carcass, covered with Darren's blood. Sigh. I'm sated, perhaps even gorged. I pout momentarily, wishing I had prolonged the play. Pushing a hank of blood soaked hair out of my face I grab Darren's wallet, checking his license for an address to leave a present for his family to find in the morning. Good. Only a few miles down the street. I grab my blade from the table and toss it into my open bag. Hmph. Didn't even get to use my belt sander. I take the bag to the SUV and use Darren's keys to open the hatchback. Going back into the house, I untie his body and heft it over my shoulder. A minute later, with Darren's mutilated corpse in the back I settle into the drivers seat and pull out of the driveway. Briefly catching a glimpse of my clothes I realize I probably should of cleaned myself up a bit before taking off. I laugh aloud. Flipping the radio to a more suitable station I catch Mick Jagger singing of painting it black and turning his head until his darkness goes. If only it was that easy...

I can the sense the cop behind me is going to pull me over before he even flicks the lights on. This should be interesting. Stolen SUV, dead body in the back. Oh, and the fact that I'm covered in blood head to toe. I pull over to the curb as my face can't help but split open into a vicious grin. The cop comes to the window "License and regis..." his words drop off as he sees my face. Within a split second he backs up a step and I fling the door open and leap at him, slamming him against the cruiser. His hand reaches for his gun before I grab it and break his fingers. I smell the sharp scent of urine as he pisses himself in fear. The cop hitches in a breath to scream and I lunge forward and rip his esophagus out with my teeth. His body is thrashing against mine as I take a few swallows. Ugh. I'm too full for this. I drop his twitching body on the ground and look at him for a few moments with my head cocked to the side in contemplation. Ok. He's a gone goose. I open the drivers door to the cruiser and rip the dashboard camera off and crush it.

Spotting a navy blue rain sicker I slip it on over my blood soaked clothes and pull the hood up. Guess I'm walking. Looking up at the street sign I realize I'm close to a Gangrel friend's house. I check my pockets for the spare key I was entrusted to. Looks like I'm gonna be encroaching on his hospitality again. I keep to the darker side of the sidewalk, cutting through the neighborhood until I reach a copse of trees. Following a barely noticable path through the woods, the looming Victorian comes into my view in no time. Slipping my key in the lock, I swing the door open. Mongrel looks up from the desk he's drawing at. I say nothing, giving a tentative smile as I try to keep my blood drenched clothes from dripping on the carpet. After a beat, he points to the bathroom “Don't use all the hot water this time.” and returns his attention to his art. I close the door behind me and head towards the bathroom. Passing Mongrel, he gives a hearty sniff and I catch an almost imperceptible smirk. I giggle and prepare to wash off the remains of my bloody and boisterous night.