20 years is a long time to live with yourself, but Missy had finally managed to pull herself out of bed every morning with little trouble. For it wasn’t until she stood that the hunger hit her. A hunger, a desire, for blood. She yearned for the metallic taste, the feeling of the luscious warm liquid running from her lips, down her chin. She thirsted for blood.
After her parent’s death, Missy slowly learned to move on. It wasn’t easy, but with the help of many others she achieved it. 20 years later and she barely thought of that night. She always reflected back on the nights that followed. The scars made it hard for Missy to forget. She would always remember waking up, actually being told of her family’s demise, and wanting nothing more than to die.
The first time she had any real craving for blood, it was sliding down her arm and dripping into the sink. It scared her, the lust inside her. She had never felt anything like it before. Looking in the mirror terrified her. Her eyes had never been red, had never glowed before. She just wanted to devour her own flesh.
Her appearance hasn’t changed much since that day, but her location has. Over the last 2 years, Missy acquired her own apartment. Beforehand, she had always lived with someone else or just shared someone else’s bed. Without a real job, renting was hard but Missy managed somehow (did the money from men have anything to do with that?). None of the furniture matched as most was bought second-hand. Missy didn’t really care if it did, she was just glad to have a roof over her head.
She liked to paint. It helped to pass the time, and it did bring in money. Living alone wasn’t something Missy had ever really done before, the past 2 years had seen plenty of men in and out of her door, but she was ready to change that. Missy was ready to find someone for good.