I'm so hungry.
The need to feed courses through me, unwavering with every person I see. I can feel my body changing, almost morphing into something that I've always been meant to be, but these Toronto streets make me just so hungry.
I reach Queen subway station and rush down the stairs. I need to be somewhere hidden, not so close to the public and with it being so late at night no one will hear my food scream. My legs act on their own accord and my hands flex with the anticipation. I've been waiting for so long and finally tonight I will feed.
The rush of cold wind is exhilarating as subway trains leave the station on either platforms. My side is empty, regrettably, but on the other side there's a girl with earphones blasting some sort of rap music. My ears burn with the sound, but my heart yearns for a taste.
Her eyes are closed. She feels safe being the only one on her side of the station. But for me, a few train tracks in between have never been an issue. I bend my knees, preparing for the jump but stop when the bright lights of a coming subway train illuminates the dark tunnels. I watch silently as the train chimes before opening its doors. I shudder, anticipating the change coming over me, but it has to wait a moment longer--I have to stop being so damn hungry.
The train chimes again and the doors close. The electric sound of metal on metal annoys me, but I have to do what I can for my next meal. I growl when I notice the empty platform. The girl has been given another day to live. Stupid. Unforgivable.
I yearn for the feel of warmth in my mouth, for the fulfilment of my stomach. But then I hear something, a low giggling coming from the stairs behind me. I was always told that when one meal survives another one must die.
I readjust my composure and watch another girl walk down the stairs. She seems so gentle and innocent that it just makes me want her that much more. Her honey-blonde hair is clipped back with two flower clips and the scent of expensive perfume wafts towards me, I close my eyes and take it in appreciatively.
She is nervously giggling at some text that someone sent her, her hand flying furtively over her key pad. She senses me, I can feel it in the air: her fear. Her giggling lowers in volumes until there is no sound escaping her. She walks to the end of the platform, uncomfortably watching behind her at me. Her jeans make a soft sound in the echoing nothingness of this underground and one of the yellow lights is flickering.
I smile at her and cock my head. She doesn't have time to scream, instead she goes into shock as she sees me transform into her worst nightmare. I can smell her soft, virginal skin and hear her terrified breaths.
I'm just so hungry.