I had never consumed another human being before.

How very strange it was, the way their meat, still warm from a fresh kill melted inside the confines of my mouth. The way the crimson of their blood ran thick down my throat, tasting of thick copper bile.

My sanity had reached a boiling point, completely irradicated by the forceful nature of my hunger.

More.

More.

The words echoed in my mind, inside whatever membranes of my brain I had salvaged. Perhaps I had eaten that too. I lost track of a multitude of things, was I still considered a person? Or was I the concoction of desperation, evil, and lust inside the shell of a human who once was?

I watched, as if trapped, watching myself, my own greedy, frantic hands reaching into their abdomen. Grasping at the slippery, warm, sickly wet organisms I could find.

If there were any humanity left in me, I had no notice. I was compelled by an invisible force, perhaps that wasn't the case. I looked up, I could only assume of what my appearance may have looked like to him. Devoid of any emotion as I ate up what could've been a family member. A sister, a brother, a mother, father, there was no point in caring. I was beyond such a feat.

As if in a trance, he could only stare. I had no intention of studying his face so intricately. It was like looking into a mirror. His eyes, brown, the same hue as a liver, appeared so unfathomably dark. To the point it were black, his skin; clammy and pale, slicked with sweat. Shadows cut into his cheekbones, the ridge beneath his eyebrows, contouring his features. And as I let my gaze travel further down I could see it. He swallowed as he watched me, and if it were for a split millisecond, there it was.

Hunger.