The second the last drop of blood passes my lips, my senses return, bringing remorse. Panic. Guilt.
With horror, I lay down the drained form of some nameless woman with more care than is warranted. I stare down at her, her final moments replaying in my mind now the haze of blood-lust is lifting. I feel it all again.
And worst of all – forgiveness.
She hadn’t known me, hadn’t known who or what I was, but she forgave the sin of ending her life – even asked me to forgive her.
Sated, I feel empty inside.