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My moves are pure instinct as I hit, duck and hit again, fluidly evading every punch as I land my own. Two men are quickly down, and the other three are just a matter of time. Dancing to the beat of their hearts, I apply all my strength in my fists as I nab one in his Adam's apple. Hearing his trachea break, the force of my punch kicking his bones to the back and cutting his air supply. With a strangled breath, he's down too.

The next two are a piece of cake as I aim for vital spots, their eyes rolling in the back of their heads as they succumb to the ground.

Panting, the fog clears only slightly, enough for me to notice the knife Maxim throws in the cage from a secret window in the ceiling.

I'm quick to grab the handle, dragging the bodies until they are aligned with the small drainage pipes, my blade cutting their throats and watching how the blood pools down until it slowly starts moving toward the pool.

I do the same with each body, positioning their slit throats, so that all the blood is collected in the pool. Now, all five drainage points are occupied by corpses leaking their life's essence into my pit.

In no time, the clean water becomes murky, the blood infusing color into it. And slowly, ever so slowly, a rusty color gives way to red.

More blood fills the pool and I close my eyes, the sight caressing my entire being.

Impatiently, I rip my clothes at the seams as I practically dive forward, the bloody water hitting my skin and making me sigh in pleasure. The metallic smell overwhelms my nostrils, and I can only try to inhale deeper.

Submerging myself in the water, I let the blood coat every inch of my skin, the texture—though diluted—feeding my inner beast. And though it asks for more—it always does—it's finally at peace.

I stay under water, losing myself in the sea of blood, the death that surrounds me, the all-encompassing red.

And I wait.

Not unlike the other times, being suffused in blood does calm me. And I find that my consciousness starts returning slowly.

I break the surface of the water, breathing hard, my eyes finally accommodating to the sight around me, clarity returning to my mind.

"Damn," I mutter as I take in the mangled appearances of the men I'd just sacrificed.

I'd certainly gone the extra mile to ensure they're really dead.

I'd spent a lot of time ruminating onEl Viejo'sadvice and trying to apply it to my own situation. At last, I'd realized that there was only one solution—give in to the blood. Literally.

It had been a little trickier getting the resources for this, but I'd quickly found a way to steal some prisoners—people no one would miss—after ensuring that their blood tests are up to date, of course.

Maxim's been in charge of procuring healthy prisoners for me to kill and, well, bathe in their blood.

"It sounded better in my head," I say out loud, rolling my eyes at my own circumstances, somehow amused I'd had to resort to this. After all, I'm no Elizabeth Bathory. My own proclivities do not lean toward achieving eternal life. I'll be happy if I get to retain this one.

And it's been working. Surprisingly, my crises have become shorter, and once I'm submerged in blood for a couple of hours, they are as good as gone. Sure, I have to kill a few people for that. But I'll choose Sisi's safety overanyone.

This one practice has made me less volatile, and more likely to control myself even at the onset of a crisis. Whereas I would have usually blanked out immediately, now there's a sliver of conscience left even during the worst of the attack.

It makes me… hopeful.

Now, if only I could remember what the initial trigger was. All the flashbacks I'd had so far had featured a lot of blood, andmore often than not it was my own. But so far I haven't felt anything other than outrage at my memories.

Nothing I'd seen had made me particularly receptive or angry. Of course, my compass is a little skewed, since I probably had to bear every insane thing one could imagine. From rape to mental and physical torture, to having my body opened up for Miles' perverted joy, I don't think there's much that can trump that.

I'm deep in my thoughts, my body still neck deep in blood, when I hear the creak of the door.

My head whips back, and I watch with horror as Sisi tentatively steps inside, her eyes widening as she takes in the carnage around. Her gaze finally settles on me, and she looks at me curiously, tilting her head to the side and studying me as if I were a curiosity.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice brusque.

How did she get in here?

I'd taken every precaution to make sure she wouldn’t find out about this. Now that I finally got her to give me another chance, I don't need her to see this and realize I'm still a monster.

The room is purposefully hidden from view and the door is password protected. How could she have found her way here and opened the door, too?