Sorrow Sank Deep Inside My Blood.

"I'm probably old enough to be your mother!" The middle-aged woman spoke; a little embarrassed, a little flirtatiously, giggling as he ran his arms down to her hips, causing her to squirm. It was obvious she hadn't had male attention like this is some years.

"You probably are. However, I tend to go for older women." He whispered seductively into her ear, running his calloused hands down to her wrinkly-old thighs. He opened his mouth slightly, and wrapped his sharp teeth around the cartilage on her ear, very gently. Her knees buckled in reaction, a loud moan escaping her lips and her eyes rolling into the back of her head. He wrapped one of his arms around her waist so she wouldn't fall and hurt herself; worse, break her neck.

No, she needed to be in perfect condition.

"I barely know you." She said, slightly worried now, her heart picking up speed, and thumping audibly against her rib cage.

"You'll have time to get to know me." He spoke in a tone that suggested otherwise. This made her panic further, her finger tips trembling and she tried to break him free.

"My kids are in the room next door." She spoke worryingly, trying to think of any excuse to make him stop.

In a couple seconds, the man had ran to the living room door, bolted it shut, and was back holding the woman before she had time to fall.

"H-how did you do that?" She spoke, shocked, edging away from him.

"I was a brilliant sportsman in high school." He spoke, reassuringly, bringing his mouth back to her ear. He shrugged slightly, as if it was no big deal.

"Oh. Okay." She spoke in reply, obviously taking the bait.

He softly moved his lips down to her throat, where he inhaled deeply and moaned at her scent. He began kissing her on the 'correct' spot, before digging his teeth in gently. The woman moaned in reply, before he began to bite harder.

And harder.

And harder.

Until he blood began to spill.

His gray tinted eyes began to turn a deep black with excitement. The veins beneath his chalky skin rose up to the surface - giving him an almost bluish green appearance that would only last a few minutes - pulsing, as he drained the unfortunate.

"Mary Hopman. Fifty-five. Female. Diabetic. 42 Walken Avenue." He spoke, with a smile as he jotted them down in the book that was going to make him win first prize this year. Of course the over dramatics would stop eventually, in case of ruining any chances of becoming the victor, however, he was having way too much fun.

Slinging the body into the fire of her living room, Brian Haner swiftly darted out of the front door at a speed that he would be seen as nothing more than a gust of wind.