Victim

Following the victim of my passion, I spared no effort to remain unnoticed. I walked slowly, as if absentmindedly, glancing up at the sky from time to time, picking late berries or the heather that was so abundant that summer. The weather was beautiful; the forest was permeated with sunlight, and a gentle breeze carried the sweet chirping of birds. Nothing should have led the man walking before me to suspect that he was being followed, hunted like game, that he would soon fall prey to my designs. My intentions were too terrible for me to express in words now, or even to frame in thought. I knew what I wanted to do, I knew that nothing would stop me from the actions deeply rooted in my subconscious, and that was quite enough. Don't think that shame and prudery compelled me to hide the thoughts and images that were running through my mind at that moment; in truth, I didn't know exactly what I intended. I was guided by instinct, which didn't consult my mind or my heart—a heart I didn't have, figuratively speaking. From the very beginning, from the first moment my eyes skimmed over this stranger's silhouette, I knew he was the one I needed, that I had to obey the instinct that had dominated me for so many years, that this very day this man would be mine...

He looked like a young clerk, heading out for his May Day weekend... a serious face and casual clothes. I immediately noticed him and watched his steps closely. How great was my joy when he headed into the forest! That made things much easier. My satisfaction grew the further into the forest he went, and I followed him at a distance. A multitude of uncertain, indeterminate thoughts swirled in my head, and my heart beat with a restless desire, a desire that demanded slaking. I tried not to look at him, afraid he would sense my presence, but at a certain moment I couldn't resist. I tore my gaze from the bouquet of heather in my hand and raised my eyes to the one who was my target. And then an uncontrollable, heated sigh escaped my lips. He couldn't hear him, that was certain, but the lust that lay dormant in my soul, expressed in that sigh, must have been perceived by him in some extrasensory way, because he turned abruptly and looked at me. About fifty meters of gravel separated us, but I saw a distinct fear in his eyes. A few tense seconds passed, and the man began to approach me hesitantly. He probably wanted to pass me and leave the forest, but something in my gaze made him change his mind. He turned and began to run. Was I chasing him? Not at first. I knew his escape was futile and utterly pointless. The path he'd taken led deeper into the forest—a thicket of dark thickets and ancient trees, disappearing into it, somewhere near a moss-covered quagmire. The pines that lined the road gave him no chance of escaping. So I didn't worry when he disappeared from sight.

"I'll catch you, darling!" "—I hissed softly, certain that the rustling of the trees would carry this ominous promise to its recipient.

I strayed from the path and weaved through the trees, following my prey. Quickly and nimbly, I weaved through bushes and branches, constantly keeping a watchful eye on the gravel road along which my desired one ran, while remaining unnoticed myself. After a while, I noticed clear signs of fatigue in the man I was following. He moved at a weak jog, and a quick, wheezing breath escaped his lips. Finally, he stopped. He looked around slowly, then again. He took a few more halfhearted steps, then sat down on a roadside stone. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, tilted his head back, and, breathing deeply, remained in that position for a few moments.

The August sun shone intensely, intensifying my madness, my untamed instincts, testing my patience to a devilishly difficult test. I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes. He still had to wait, wait until the man calmed down completely, lost all traces of his vigilance, forgot about the mysterious woman who was following him along the forest path.

After a time I can't begin to describe, I opened my eyes. I feared the object of my vile fascination had departed, but he was still there. He lay half-naked, his head resting on a rolled-up sweatshirt and T-shirt, his eyes closed, his face turned to the sun. The sight deeply moved me, and it took me a moment to approach him. He was so beautiful, so vulnerable, lying by the gravel path, bathed in the summer sun, illuminating his chest and well-built arms. He was breathing evenly and calmly, as if in a deep sleep. I gazed at him gently, almost tenderly, for a long moment, but the vile desire slumbering in my black heart refused to yield to the emotional rush. I couldn't wait any longer. I emerged silently from the thicket of trees and approached the man. I knew he couldn't sense my presence. This was the perfect moment to strike. I was preparing to carry out the plan that had been so persistently occupying my mind when my victim suddenly opened her eyes. I saw fear in them. The critical moment was approaching. I could still begin; it wasn't too late, but something held me back. I was furious with myself for this foolish display of weakness, but I still managed one of my practiced, trust-inspiring smiles and said in a low voice,

"Good morning. Please don't get up. The weather is so beautiful, perfect for sunbathing."

Despite my words, he sat down, looking at me with uncertainty and surprise, which soon turned to polite interest.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," I continued in a friendly tone, sitting down next to the man. "I just went for a walk.

" "I was walking too," he finally said. "I apologize for my behavior." "You might think I was afraid of her, but I just... wanted to run," he finished, halfheartedly, but with a touch of embarrassment.

He looked up at me and smiled warmly. For a moment, his serious face lit up as if by magic. He seemed younger than I had at first. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five. A sudden fear gripped me: I wouldn't be up to the task, that I wouldn't find solace, that my eternal desire, which could be silenced only occasionally, would lead to death if unfulfilled. I'd waited so long! First, there was the lack of a suitable opportunity or the lack of a suitable victim, and now my absurd scruples. "What's happening to me?" I thought, terrified. "I can't let his pleasant demeanor soften me. I need satiation, or I'll die!" I decided it would be a good idea to embarrass or offend the boy sitting next to me. Then he won't be so nice anymore, I told myself, and I'll definitely get rid of all my foolish sentiments.

"And yet I got the impression I was frightening you. You were running away from me," I stated emphatically, fixing my gaze on his green eyes.

"No... No..." he tried to deny, confused. "No... we have to control ourselves. Perhaps we should call each other by our first names.

" "A deft change of subject," I murmured softly.

He said his name and extended his hand to me.

"Nice to meet you." I shook his hand.

"And you..." he stammered. "What's your name?"

I didn't answer. I stared at his face with wild intensity. I knew I wouldn't be able to restrain my actions for much longer. The desire for his blood was tormenting me too much. There was another desire... one that often accompanied the first. Perhaps that was why I always chose male blood?

Beads of sweat appeared on the boy's forehead. His gaze betrayed fear and anguish. He laughed nervously and looked pleadingly at his hand, which was still firmly grasped in mine.

"So... you're afraid of me after all," I whispered with satisfaction, the smile vanishing from my face, along with any remaining semblance of friendship.

The victim began to struggle, but his hand remained gripped in mine as if in a vice.

"Let go!" cried the one for whom there was no escape, and began to pummel me with his left hand. I grabbed it too, easily overpowering the boy I'd just met. He tried to wrestle with me, but it was no use. Surprised by the strength of the woman's seemingly weak arms, he gave up resistance.

"You won't escape me," I confirmed what he surely already suspected. "No one has ever succeeded.

" "What will you do with me?" he asked in a composed voice.

Without a word, I rose from the ground, simultaneously lifting the man. I headed for the side thicket, keeping his wrists in an iron grip.

"What will you do with me?" he repeated, this time with a hint of anger in his voice.

I smiled. I loved that kind of guy. Brave and tough, even in the face of danger. It immediately occurred to me that, for his bravery, he was strangely submissive. But as soon as I thought that, I felt a sharp tug, and then I heard a sudden rustle of the forest floor behind me. He had freed himself and was now running toward the path. I laughed mockingly and gave chase. In a few bounds, I caught up with the man and pinned him against a tree. He was breathing heavily, and his terrified eyes were staring somewhere over my head. He opened his mouth, but then closed it.

"You're not going to scream, are you? That's so unmanly," I grimaced contemptuously. "Besides, no one will hear you here."

"I didn't intend to," he denied with dignity, though his voice expressed fear and his eyes expressed helplessness. He looked at me and repeated, "I didn't intend to call for help. Since I go to the gym and can't cope, who could defeat such a... Who are you?"

This question, so simple, perhaps the simplest one possible, completely unsettled me. I enjoyed spreading fear, terror... And his fear was clearly diminishing by the moment. My vision went black. I raised my outstretched right hand, my left still pressing him firmly against the tree, and with all my might, I raked my nails across his body, from his temple to his chest. He hissed at the sudden pain, but didn't cry out, didn't try to pull away.

I opened my eyes, which had been closed in a fit of rage, to assess the effect. The left side of my victim's face, neck, and torso were covered with five long gashes, from which blood oozed.

"Will you scratch me to death?" he asked in a calm, yet quiet voice.

I ignored his words. I brought my face closer to his body and began to eat. For now, the red streams flowing from the wounds were enough. After licking the blood from his face, I moved my mouth to his. He flinched as I impulsively bit down on one of them, and I did the same. This puzzled me, for I had never before identified with my victim in any way. I pulled back slightly and looked into his face. Our eyes met, sending shivers down my spine and sending a fluttering heartbeat through me—a heart that, after all, felt nothing but passion! Pity gripped me for the bloodied wretch standing before me. Pity was an understatement! I felt immense sorrow; his pain was my pain! Terrified by my own emotions, I was unable to move toward him. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the tortured expression in his beautiful, deep eyes. The long wounds on his body dried after a few minutes, but red drops continued to drip from his mouth. "I can't allow such waste," I thought, forcing myself to finish the job. I slowly moved my face closer to his and began to drink his blood with a tenderness I hadn't experienced before. It didn't bring me pleasure like before, but rather suffering, a painful pain I'd never experienced before. And then I felt something strange on my cheeks; suddenly the blood turned saltier.

"You're crying," I heard a faint whisper.

I straightened, furious at such a preposterous remark, but at the sight of my victim's pale face, all my evil words and actions choked in my throat. I felt hunger, yearning as always to satisfy my baser instincts, but I couldn't. I knew the man would die if I were satisfied, and I didn't want that. Something arose within me, something hot, sweet, something I had never experienced in my life. That something was love. Love! I sank to the ground under the influence of this incredible revelation.

"Run!" I screamed. "You're free!"

The man didn't react immediately. He looked around frantically, like someone waking from a deep sleep, raised a hand to his bleeding mouth, looked at me fearfully, and began running in the opposite direction, toward the path. After a dozen or so steps, he collapsed. Alarmed, I ran to him. He lay unconscious, dirty, and bloody.

Despite the extreme exhaustion I felt from lack of food, I managed to carry the man this far. I hope he could be saved. Right? That's wonderful. Thank you so much for listening to me until the end without interrupting. I hope you understand. It's that predatory instinct... But I love this man. Let me see him! What are you doing? Where are you taking me? I'm not crazy! Leave me alone! I won't be able to hunt in the hospital!