I went on a date last night. I am not supposed to be dating, it’s not good for my condition. Having the thing that I crave so forcefully, sitting tantalizingly close. That she had a comely appearance meant nothing to me as I could not deny she was all I wanted in that moment. I knew I could not have her, not tonight at least. I would have to wait. I was aware of how terse I was being, and she could sense it too. I was on edge. All I could think of was relinquishing myself to the one thought replaying over and over in my mind. Eat her.
Dinner was filled with trite words and polite conversation. She was eager to learn about my life while I could care less about her’s. She poured her soul to me, while I fabricated a sob story to earn her trust. Women love a good cry. She asked me to walk her to her apartment to make sure she didn’t run into a stranger with bad intentions. As we began the walk to her apartment, I faced a dilemma. I knew I couldn’t succumb to my needs, but my mind was on nothing else. We got to her door, and I kissed her goodnight. Little did she know this would be her last night in the land of the living.
My habits have called for me to move around quite a bit. Staying in the same city for more than a month or two is dangerous. Eventually the townspeople begin to notice when their neighbors stop showing up for work. I always muddle the cities I have lived in, but I never forget a face. Some stick out to me more than others, and I know these are the special ones. The people made just for me. Mary was one of those people.
I had just returned to Chicago for the first time in ten years when I saw her. I was walking down Keystone when she came around the corner too quickly, slipped and fell, her shopping bags flying through the air. I rushed over to aid her, and to diffuse her embarrassment, pretended to fall as well. This built trust. I helped her to her feet, and as my hand brushed her cheek, I knew I had to have her. The sweet smell of her sweat entranced me, and it took all my self-control to restrain from taking her right then and there. I asked her to dinner.
As I entered my house above the local teenage hangout, I contemplated my next move. I knew I had to avoid an altercation at all costs, I wanted to take her easily.  Besides, carrying an unconscious person is quite cumbersome. As per each meal, I began to write a letter to Mary’s friends and family.
Friends and Family of Mary Leighton,
By the time you read this, all traces of Mary will be gone, and I will be far away from Chicago. It is a shame, as I do love Chicago. I loved Mary more. She was special. She was meant for me. Made for me to take as my own. My was she delicious, best I’ ve ever had. You may try to efface the memory of me, but to no avail. Every time you think of lovely Mary, I will be there in the back of your mind. The more you think of her soft ginger hair, the more vividly you will picture my hands running through it, as she dies in my arms. When you remember the tender hugs she used to give, you will think about her tender flesh as it traveled down my throat. The fact is, you could not have saved her. It was meant to be. She was mine all along. She was not the first and she will not be the last. Don’t close your eyes.
Victor
By the end of the letter, my handwriting was nearly illegible, and my mouth was watering. I needed her. Now.
I became irate. I was going insane, the hunger as my driving force. I let out a scream, a scream close to that of one being exorcised, I grabbed my coat and headed towards Mary’s apartment. I passed by a group of environmentalists trying to get me to support their cause, and I groaned in dissent. I reached her apartment and with unbridled ferocity ripped open the front door. I stalked through the rooms in her apartment, and found her sleeping peacefully in her bed. I climbed on the bed next to her, and stroked her hair while taking in her delicious smell. Suddenly, she awoke. I saw her emotions flick from confused, to scared, and watched as she tried to expel me from her home. I had no choice but to stop her.
I picked her up and tied her to the bed with the sheets. It was eminent that she did not scream as I poked her, finding the parts with equal fat and meat. I spoke to her. I told her she was special, meant for me, and that she would understand soon. That I needed her as much as she needed me. I was saving her, how could she not understand? I was terminating her life so that she could live on in a memory, and not fade away, like the rest of the human race.
As I sit, the last taste of Mary leaving my lips, I smile. I know that she is not the last woman to make me this happy. All around the world, there are people, meant for me, and only me. Waiting for me to save them. I will never stop for with each new taste, the hunger inside me grows deeper. I never know where I will end up, because it could be anywhere. I have a way of showing up, just when you least expect it...