My Right

This city is rife with filth. It's easy to get what I want.

I walk slowly, listening. Filtering out anyone with worth.

There.

A couple. Perfect.

An alley. Of course.

I turn in, silently. They have no idea I'm here. They're trapped like rats, the only way out is past me.

It's almost too easy.

Her clothes are already torn. I let myself be seen, and the man stops and turns to me. The woman stills, unsure whether I am friend or another foe. Her scared eyes flick between me and her attacker.

Then she staggers into a run. I let her go.

The smart one.

She probably thinks of me as some kind of saviour, some sort of angel.

If only she knew.

The man looks at me, since his victim has escaped. He's thinking of making me "pay." I let him come to me. He lumbers forward and opens his mouth to speak, but then he sees my red eyes.

He doesn't realise what they mean to him and his future. He considers the possibility of contact lenses, perhaps a fashion statement? But then he looks closer, and he's afraid.

I don't blame him. They scare me too sometimes.

I don't want to prolong this any further. I make my move and he becomes not a man but something else.

Prey.

My right as a hunter.

His particular voice becomes garbled then fades from my head.

I allow him to fall.

Do I feel better? That's not a question I like to think about. But the hunger has lessened.

He was evil. I might be the only person who can know for sure. I wonder if the woman would still thank me if she knew?

Maybe.

Probably not, if she was human.

But maybe.

I dispose of the body. It's simple, easy, an old habit that I do without thinking. A small blessing, I suppose.

I walk back the way I came. I pass under a streetlight and, for a moment, it illuminates me and what I am.

I slip back into darkness.