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Finnegan looks like a chubby-cheeked chipmunk stuffed into a scarecrow’s body.

His face is oddly bloated, as if someone inflated it just a little too much, while the rest of him stays gaunt and wiry.

His glasses—thick as bulletproof glass—magnify his wide, unblinking eyes, making me feel like a bug pinned under a microscope slide.

“I feel like hell,” I mutter, pushing myself up against the wall. My head swims, thick and slow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re dosing me so you can have your way with me once I’m out.” I shoot the female doctor a lazy, knowing nod. “So what’s the deal, Doc?”

“You only received a half-dose of Thorazine, which is why you can still talk and sit up. The effects should last for another thirty minutes or so,” he says.

“Thora-what?”

“Thorazine. It’s a tranquilizer.”

“You tranquilized me without my consent? Damn, you players don’t mess around. My ass isn’t sore yet, so I’m guessing you went first.” I say pointedly to Dr. Carter.

Dr. Carter, lanky and with a frizzy head of hair, stands taller than Dr. Finnegan. She also comes across as bookish, cold, and clinical. She bends down, studying my mouth and says, “You gave up consent when you took Annie Hox’s life, Mr. Parker.”

They remind me again of my crime, as if I haven’t known what I did.

As if I haven’t felt a tremendous amount of guilt for my actions, minute after minute, hour after hour, and day after day since I committed my most dark act.

The constant accusations and reminders from attorneys, to the judge and jury, police, and now physicians, make me want to explode.

I feel the urge to act as the villain they insinuate me to be.

“And I’d do it again,” I say, with a hiss and a grin.

They want a show? Well, I’m not going to hold back.

Finnegan and Carter keep quiet, jotting down notes on their clipboards. Faces expressionless, and demeanor detached… do they consider me a sociopath? Or, full on psychopath? I’m a feral killer. I should see fear in their eyes instead of mild curiosity.

“So, no remorse for your actions, Mr. Parker?” Carter asks.

I don’t answer. It seems better, as my previous responses are slurred, and the lack of keenness is to my detriment.

“You’ve been in isolation for a few days now, and our goal remains to rehabilitate you,” says Finnegan. “Remorse is an important part of that process.”

Of course, I’m sorry. Mostly for Annie, but for her family as well, especially her mother.

Annie always told me how close they both were.

She once told me her mom didn’t like me very much, and now, I feel heartbroken that Annie hadn’t followed her own mom’s advice when she told her to stay away from me.

After my conviction, I wrote a note to my attorney to give to Annie’s mom, pleading for forgiveness and for her understanding that my intention was never to harm her daughter. It was too much to ask from her, but it was sincere, and I had to do it for the sake of my own sanity.

“Are you still biting yourself?” asks Finnegan.

I nod and make no effort to hide the scars on my arms.

“When was the last time you bit yourself?”

“Last night,” I mutter. “I prefer the nape of a woman’s neck, but my arm was just so appetizing and readily available.”

“Why do you harm yourself, Mr. Parker?” Carter asks.

“I’m not, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need blood. I’m addicted, I guess. I can’t get it from anyone else in here… might as well drink it from myself. It’s no different than masturbation.”

“I think the inmates here would all disagree with you,” Finnegan remarks.

“Why do you need blood?” Carter asks.

I fix him with a withering stare, certain he’ll never grasp the world as I do, and give him the answer he wants. “I like the way it tastes. It calms me.”

Finnegan takes a closer look at the scars on my arms and the two scabs near my elbow that always have a hard time healing.

“You don’t consider biting yourself harmful, but doesn’t it hurt when you bite your arms over and over again?”

“When I first began, it did. Most of the nerves near my puncture wounds are all dead now, I suppose.”

I notice Dr. Carter’s upper lip twitches slightly in disgust. She hasn’t completely been desensitized from working in this place.

“How do you see yourself?” Finnegan asks.

“Besides the sexiest vampire of all time?” I flash her a toothy grin.

“How do you identify yourself as compared to your peers? You do understand that sucking your own blood until you turn pale or pass out isn’t a very common thing to do.”

“I’m not like you or Dr. Carter.”

“Yes, of course, but—”

“I’m a vampire. See my fangs? I love blood. It’s just who I am. It’s how I roll, as the kids say these days.”

Finnegan and Carter lower their eyes onto their clipboards again and scribble more notes.

“I’m sure you find the isolation you’re currently in discomforting,” says Finnegan. “Your cooperation and participation in desiring to become well again can change that.”

“I am cooperating.” I add a smug smirk.

“Look, Mr. Parker, we’re here to do what’s best for you,” Finnegan continues. “I’ve read and studied your case. Read your testimony. We can certainly rehabilitate you enough to where you can enjoy a bit more freedom while you’re here. But we need a lot more willing participation from you.”

I’m not crazy; not then, not ever. Annie was sacrificed to force my awakening, to make me see the truth of what I am. And now that I know, there’s no chance in hell I’ll let them keep pumping me full of tranquilizers, no way I’ll swallow another pill to erase who I’ve become.

“I’m not crazy,” I slur adamantly.

“Aaron? You actually think you’re a vampire?” Carter seeks to confirm it.

I hold my tongue and sigh in frustration.

“Vampires are supposed to be immortal,” Finnegan says. “Aaron, your arms are scarred, and you will die if you keep sucking out your own blood. This is not healthy behavior.”

I think about how it felt when I held Annie in my arms inside her car the night of her death, and how her warmth and essence quickly left her body.

As soon as I heard her last breath, her body became cold.

I knew immediately that she was gone. If Annie, the only person who ever cared for me, didn’t deserve my restraint, certainly these lab-coated pricks questioning me over and over again don’t either.

I look up at Dr. Carter and stare at her skinny neck. Wrinkled at its center, not much to look at. Still, the longer I remain in isolation will surely make the most withered and loose-skinned specimen seem as if it’s a delicious, plump drumstick.

I run my tongue across my canines and suddenly feel a pep run through my body as the last of the Thorazine finally runs out of my system. I make sure they both see my burgeoning hunger. They recoil as I stand up spryly from my metal bed.

The physicians take a couple of steps back, desperately trying to come off as if they’re still both in control of the situation.

“Mr. Parker, we’re here to help,” Finnegan repeats.

“Then don’t try to change who I am!” I bark.

“Aaron,” Carter interjects, shaking her head. “Listen, calm down.”

“I was born with these fucking teeth. You can’t change me!”

“Then you’re going to be in isolation for the rest of your life.” Dr. Finnegan backpedals to the cell door with Dr. Carter by his side.

I hate being here, but again, I’m not crazy.

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wandering the halls of an asylum like some useless zombie.

But thinking about my last night with Annie, her blood pooling at my knees, soaking through the fabric of her car seat, elicits something in me that I can no longer control.

My nostrils flare and my eyes are blinded momentarily, as if I have an extra set of primitive eyelids in them, like a white shark.

I lunge at Dr. Carter, the fairer of the two, and go straight for her neck.

I sink my fangs into her scrawny neck and an orgasmic feeling initially races through my mouth, then through my chest, eventually settling in my groin.

Oh, how I’ve missed that salty, metallic, flavorful taste.

I open my eyes and unlatch myself for a breather.

Dr. Carter squirms on the floor and yells and screams for help.

Suddenly, the room goes dark. I don’t remember being hit in the head with a baton, but it happens.

Dr. Carter is no prize, but her raisin-like pencil neck is enough to quench my thirst. Unfortunately for me, it’s also the last time my fangs penetrate someone else’s skin.

Shortly after knocking me out, they muzzle me. But that isn’t the worst thing to happen… My teeth, my precious canines, are now officially considered contraband within these walls, and can be removed at any time.