Elisia sat at the kitchen table in the dark, staring at the jar of deep red liquid illuminated by the moonlight shining through the window. She dare not move, for fear of stepping on the corpse that was somewhere on the floor. Her long, bony index finger slowly inched toward the blood filled jar. She touched the cold glass.

With each passing minute, she became more and more thirsty. The bodily fluid became so appealing. Elise wished for nothing more than to taste it. But how could she? She was a good, rational person, certainly not a murderer.

“What’s happened to me?” Elise thought as the all too recent memory of slaying the young girl with a kitchen knife and catching a portion of her spurting blood reappeared in her head.

At last, the temptation was far too strong. She lashed out for the jar, seizing it in her hand and brining it to her lips. She wildly gulped down the red liquid, throwing the jar to the side when she finished, it shattered to pieces just beside the corpse’s head.