ANDRÉ BAUDELAIRE
The brazen music that threatened to strip the building off its foundation faded into the back of my mind when I waltzed out of the bar, pushing my head backwards—more like I was trying to push my hunger to the back of my mind and dabble in something that could distract me.
But then, I knew it was only a matter of time before I allowed it to take over me, wield me and use me as a weapon. It was very ironic how I was trying to keep it together, yet I couldn't resist grabbing a drink in a confined bar that crawled with weak humans, baring their necks to me and beckoning at me with the thought of having just a bite.
It was hard to stay sane in such a loud environment where I drowned in the rhythm of the heartbeats of adrenaline-pumped humans that I wanted more than nothing
