We screamed in unison. Both hers and mine mingled in the damp air of the alleyway, our eyes blinded with white-hot pain.

But I had to continue, though it would mean her life. I didn't even know the woman, though earlier I had seen her with a man who must have been her husband.

I willed myself to keep drinking her blood, trying to keep my fangs lodged in her neck without having to remove them to scream again. But it kept happening; the raw agony kept getting in my way. I kept tasting it, smelling it, feeling it only because she felt it too.

Thus was the process of stealing emotion.

As she squealed for her life, I had to pull back to get control over myself. I bit down on my own lip to keep the bubbling yell at bay, debating on whether I should keep drinking, or give up and have to go through the same process in a shorter amount of time than if I pried every bit of feeling from this woman, prolonging both of our pain.

"I-I'm s-s-so sorry…" I whispered, wincing when she screamed once more. "P-Please, forgive m-m-me…" Again, I allowed my fangs to emerge once more from my blood-coated lips, sliding them into her neck and sucking up what was left there.

She faded slowly, painstakingly slowly. Her breaths were so shallow that her lungs rattled in attempt to keep working. I tried to help her leave this cruel world as fast as possible, staying at her neck to bring her life-force into me instead, acting as a sponge for the hurt. I stayed there until the end.

Once she was gone, I could breathe on my own. Before, I had to rely on her every dying breath to get any oxygen, and my head had begun to feel light near the end.

As I pulled away, her taste still lingering in my mouth, I wiped at my jaw and neck where the blood had dribbled and smeared. I could feel the fresh blood warm in my chest, my dead heart beginning to pump once more with a new duty. The newfound warmth spread through my limbs rapidly as I gently pried the cold woman from my body, she having gripped and tore at my back when I had first attacked her, slamming her against the wall of the alley to prevent her from running.

I tenderly picked up her broken, stained body with my arm supporting her limp neck and the other wrapped around her legs. Softly I leaped onto the roof above, holding her against me though it caused shivers to spasm up my spine, from both her chilling and very dead body, and the repercussions of my theft.

It's different with any given person, never once were the symptoms the same. Never have I felt exactly the same more than once. Of course, this is a given, seeing as how every human's emotions are different. When I soak them up through their blood, though, it all is so very sudden. That is for certain. It all rushes at me like a crushing tsunami wave.

It hurts at first, when it all comes crashing down. My head feels like its being squeezed in a vice, my chest aches, my limbs tremble violently. No matter how many times I go through this, it always is the same. It's the only consistency in my routinely existence.

The October breezes passed through my hair, which I always kept chest-length. I watched as the tips of the curling strands turned from snow-white to a rich brown color. My vision lost its red, animalistic tint, turning to the normal sight of a regular man.

The first thing I noticed was the sharp clarity of the colors around me. They all washed together in a moment of confusion, and then clashed as they sharpened, stabbing my newly found eyes viscously. I stumbled in the heat of the moment, very nearly dropping the lady in my arms. But I knew I had to keep on running and get her to Silence, an undertaker who happened to be a friend of mine, before anyone could spot me.

I felt a gush of strength in my limbs as my veins were again filled and working. On the horizon I could see the red rays of the dawn peering over the land, and knew I had a limited amount of time. Cursing my luck, I pushed myself into a full-out sprint to get to Silence's shop on the other side of town.

The woman seemed to be light as a feather, and I felt my stomach churn when I thought of why.

She was nothing but an empty husk in the basket of my arms which flowed with her own blood.

I took a deep breath, the scent of the open wound on her neck still strong. The world blurred as I ran even faster.

It takes more strength than logic to tell myself I didn't need any more. Being who I am, I can't seem to get enough though I've had my fair share.

When you're a monster, more isn't enough. All is what satisfies.

But I had taken all her blood, so why was I still…?

My thoughts were stopped abruptly as intense heat flashed across my pale skin. The smoke that slowly wisped off my arm was threatening in itself, as was the mere thought of the ultra-violet light that was beginning to stream through the concealing forest's branches ahead.

With a sigh, I leaped down into an abandoned alley, knowing I was close to Silence's shop on the corner of Narfall Street and Nightmare Avenue. I had taken too long with hunting down my prey and soaking up her emotions, and it was going to cost me dearly if I didn't get to shelter soon.

Yes, welcome to my life. A living, breathing, walking hell is what you may call me. Otherwise, my name is, ever-so ironically, Blood Havarthen. But that's not what I tell everyone. Usually I say; "Just call me Sebastian."

So, I will apply the same fiction to you.

From here on out, call me Sebastian. At your service.