I woke up. Sitting next to me was a bible. It was burnt and torn. Runes were written in to it, I assumed, by me. Next to it was the shambles of a bottle that once held milk. Its edges were burnished with flicks of blood, drying. Sitting in front of my was a collection of humans. Their remains were scattered about in the shape of a tire. Everything felt wrong. I satred in horror, my hand lifting to touch my lips. I took a breath and smelled the iron tang of blood. My hand left my mouth stained with red. I licked. It was sticky and stale. Sticking my tongue out I grouped to get it off. Of course, that only made it worse. I stiffened and swollowed. I felt my fangs emerge. I don't think I'd had them before but they seemed right at home. I hated this. I hated every last inch of it but my emotions were begining to fade. I ate them all. Every last one. I burned the book and grabbed the glass, looking for more. I howled to the moon in joy and ecstacy. I couldn't remember feeling this happy. It didn't matter how I got here. All that mattered was that I didn't want to leave. All that mattered was that I was finally free.