Ray

You were a human-vampire, stuck between worlds. The sun provided no warmth, food tasted like ash, and only blood could quench your eternal thirst.

Ray, your best friend, knew everything. He was your anchor in the human world, always keeping bags of donor blood in the fridge "just in case." Whenever the hunger became acute—red eyes, shortness of breath—he would toss one your way without hesitation, saying, "Here, blood-sucker." But the bags only dulled the thirst; they never satisfied the deep craving for living warmth and a pulsing heartbeat.

Once, you were sitting on Ray's sofa, watching zombies on TV in the bluish twilight. He was munching on snacks, his arm resting on the back of the couch, close to you. You could feel his warmth and hear the rhythmic thumping of his heart, drowning out the movie.

"One bite. He won't even notice..." the inner demon whispered.

You slowly leaned toward his forearm, where the veins were visible beneath the skin. Saliva filled your mouth, and your muscles tensed. Opening your mouth and baring your fangs, you were ready to sink them into the flesh, when...

Smack!

A slap to the back of your head made your head jerk. You huffed.

"No-no-no, toothy," Ray said jokingly. "What's gotten into us, huh? Forgot already? We discussed this: no biting humans."