I can still remember the night it happened to me. It's been months since that night, but I can't forget those fangs at my throat.
I still don't know why she left me alive. Something frightened her off? Pity saved me?
No. Not pity, I know the thirst. The hunger that compels me.
I don't pity my food in the slightest, and I'm sure she felt no pity for me that night either. It must have been something else. But what?