The Hunger

Tonight... is the night.
I can feel that gnawing growl in my stomach, the one that itches for this every week, clawing mercilessly at my sanity. Breathing heavily, I lean into his neck. Another prey for the count among hundreds, if not thousands, at this point. I've lost count, honestly. When you're a killer, every kill isn't as memorable as the last.
His blood smells intoxicating, drawing me like a drug addict to their vice. My lips graze his throat and he moans, still slightly unconscious from my influence.
"What are you waiting for, Kahli?" Father asks, standing in the doorway. I glance up at him, the red in my eyes forming a crimson haze in my vision.
"The right moment." I reply, looking back down at the prey. Yes, the right moment. There are times where I am so hungry I don't care for the details but others are more methodical, more planned - it's simply more thrilling.
Just as my fangs pierce his skin, I can feel the ecstasy that flows with every drop of blood.
Moaning low in my throat, I drain him dry with my father watching behind my back. He is waiting to dispose of him when I am done, though I don't appreciate the audience.
His screams are something I'll remember as he wakes up just before going unconscious from blood loss.