Sitting by the window, Sophie sipped tenderly at her freshly brewed coffee. Colombian was her favourite, only from a cafetière. Any other draconian method of brewing a coffee completely spoiled the flavour she said. The rain lashing at the thin pain of glass in front of her, the only thing protecting her from the elements outside, Sophie pondered if she’d ever felt more cosy than this moment.

Allowing her mind to wander, Sophie recalled fondly the events of the past few days. The screams of fear that bellowed from the fair goers. Oh the fright! A rye smile crept across Sophie’s face as she pictured the fear in the eyes of one particular little girl. 6 or 7 years old, if she had to guess. Long brown hair that reached the small of her back, piercing blue eyes, little mousey nose and cheeks full of freckles. Picturing how quickly the joy on this girls face went to absolute horror actually made Sophie laugh to herself.

Often times Sophie said that this, the time after a ‘mission’ as she called it, was her favourite part. Reflecting on the horror she’d caused, remembering the anguish. This just makes it even more worthwhile, more delicious Sophie thought to herself.

You see, no one had ever survived even the briefest glance at Morbilla, the queen of the undead. A fact that Sophie saw as a badge of honour. But also a fact that made her incredibly lonely, how could anyone ever love her if they could never get to know the true Sophie? If she can’t even love herself.

Sophie’s euphoria was interrupted by the all too familiar feeling of being completely alone.

“This always happens, always ruining the moment for myself” she said out loud, as if angry with herself. Looking back up from her coffee Sophie spotted a familiar vehicle pulling into her drive.

“Those fucking kids” she thundered.

“I guess it’s about time they get to know the real me.”