I wipe the remnants of my meal off of my chin, effectively stopping the endless drip of it from cascading down and splattering upon the floor. I know in my heart and in my soul that I won't run across another meal quite as tasty was that one for a long time. I look into her face, the pale skin and full lips, and it occurs to me that she was quite pretty. For a moment I just stand there, allowing myself to really look at her now that the deed is done and no feelings can get in the way to stop me from doing what I needed to do.

She had her whole life ahead of her, though to be fair it wasn't going to be all that long. Eight decades, the blink of an eye, that's how long these humans live. Granted, that's far longer than they used to, but she had a good six more left in her. I could taste it; the quality of the food was better. Another thing marking her as different was the taste itself.

It used to be that finding decent meals was an easy affair for a vampire. I didn't mind smokers, because the flavor was like smoked salmon 'cept it was human. I also didn't mind a few drugs, it was a free trip. Alcohol was always a little harder to gauge, body chemistries fucked with it sometimes and made the blood almost putrid if they were dehydrated. But those were my only concerns, and I didn't have to be so careful.

Now, everyone is acting like the health of their youth isn't declining at an alarming rate. A quarter of the population is suffering from some disease or another, making them not quite nutritious. Would you eat fish that you knew had been sick? Would you open your system up to get those diseases? Then I am allowed to be partial against my food having diseases as well.

The biggest thing I've noticed that's been on the upturn is these damn mental illnesses. Every year, the youth gets a bit more depressed and the doctors make a new magical cure, which really is a subjective cure. Not a single pill works for everyone.

I hear humans bitching about preservatives, genetically modified foods, chemicals being added and artificial colors. Well, imagine how it is for me to come across a tasty bite only to find they've been laced with chemicals that pack a wallop. I can't describe how many times I've been passed out in my own living quarters because someone was taking a sedative to mitigate the demons of their own mind. I remember the first time I ate an anxiety. I don't get these people who misuse benzos, I felt my chest constricting and if I were one to breathe, I'd have panicked.

Yet I hear the adults saying that these kids are wimps. I see them turning their kids away when they're depressed and then being shocked when, five years down the line, the kid ends up on heroin or something. Maybe it's just the middle-aged soccer mom in me, feeling like I get to complain because my food is different than it used to be, but it's a sad day where the predator in the night cares more about what's going on with their prey than their parents do.

I came across a girl one day, sitting down beside a dumpster like the smell couldn't reach her—and maybe it couldn't in that state. She was bawling her eyes out, mascara tracks down her face like two inky snails had a race on either side of her face. I could tell, just by looking at the marks on her, that she was one of them who had been through it. And even though my stomach was growling at me, saying I was late for dinner time, I couldn't stand to put the kid through more pain than I already had. Shoot down the years a bit, and I run into the same kid again, this time passed out in a drug den. She was out of it, thought to tell me her whole life's story, and I being a few thousand years old expected it to be so brief considering her short human life, but she had quite the shit-show to relay to me. When she was done, I looked on her like vets do an irreparably injured dog, and I felt pity. I ate her then, despite the chemicals that made her taste like processed foods, and I felt good and yet sad about it.

I miss the days where I was the worst thing lurking in the dark of night. I miss the days where people sat their kids down and warned them about Vampires instead of other humans and what they might do. I never thought I'd see the day, well night, where people were more monstrous than me.

It's been nice having a guilt-free meal, someone that didn't make me feel like I had to think. I'd equate it to how college kids feel going home on break and eating their favorite meal again at their old safe space dinner table. I lay the girl on the ground gingerly, like she's sleeping, before moving off down the alley way. I miss how I used to have fun with this, but now it's getting harder and harder to tune out the voices of the prey I come across.