Monica fell out of The Inferno. It might only have been the hotel’s club, but she was still sweaty from dancing all night. The cold dawn air made her shiver. Still, it wasn’t far to the hotel. She took a deep morning breath and turned her nose up.

” Christ, that’s rancid. What is that? Drains?”

She spotted a couple of stumbling guys coming her way and hurried to up. The last thing she wanted was getting hassled by drunks.

One of them stopped and stared, slack jawed at her.

“What the fuck’s up with you?” She challenged. “Christ, Mon,” She thought. “You’ve got a gob on you.”

The drunk took a step towards her. The step became a run. Monica just managed to register shock at the speed he moved before she was barreled over. The stink was now overpowering. His body cold. Heavy.

On top of her.

She felt his cold hands paw her flesh. Somehow she knew that her body isn’t what they want. Not sexually. The pawing was different. She smelt his breath, felt his teeth at her neck, drool flooding from the open mouth.

She screamed and tried to push him off.

He bit her. Felt the teeth sink into her flesh. The pain was incredible. And the teeth kept going. This was no normal nip. Her body exploded with a unknown fury.

She reached up and dug her fingers into his flesh.

It was putrid.

She gripped its head and pushed, screaming as she felt a chunk of her neck going with it. Something hot and wet pumped against her cheek. Her legs pushed against it’s chest and she threw it off. Monica lept up and ran toward the saftey of the hotel.

She ran, her hands gripping her neck, not understanding why it was wet, what was seeping through her fingers. “The doors. Head for the doors. The doors. Head for the doors.” A mantra, over and over.

But she knew, with cold certainty, it was coming.

Behind her, it stumbled to its feet and started to give chase. A couple of lumbering steps and the moans of others like it brought it to a halt. It sniffed, it’s eyes rotten beyond usefulness, and shambled off in another direction.

Monica threw herself into the hotel’s revolving door. She felt ankle snag and fell forward, cracking her skull against the pane in front. She sobbed, trying to call for help as her world went black.

She was cold when she woke. Turning, she felt crusted blood on her neck. Her hands went to the wound, large and ragged. It had stopped bleeding, at least.

She licked her…her…”Wha waas th erd. Fing Ers.”

She swallowed. Her throat suddenly dry.

“Wha…whas wrong wiv me?”

She was uncontrollably, sucking her fingers clean, taking all the blood off them. Licking under the nails. But it just made her more hungry.

She tried to stand but her foot was stuck in the door. She tried to move it but nothing happened. She couldn’t even feel it. All she felt was a constant, gnawing hunger.

She pulled her leg in and watched in horror as the skin around her foot stretched and tore. Her foot lay outside, the stump not bleeding, her skin blue.

Somewhere deep inside her, all that was left of Monica screamed.

And all that came out was a low moan.

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