The blood slowly dripped from the open wound, her stomach churning in excitement. Soon, the glass would be full.. Feeble hands, weakened by blood loss and immobility, pressed on the injury; blood came out in renewed masses. She glanced down at the glass - halv an inch left. The hands pressed harder; she impatioently scourged another halfclosed wound, begging it to go faster, faster! There! The glass, tainted with red liquid, was full. She lifted it with quivering hands - this was her obsession, her drug. Her medicine.

Cool tip of wineglass met brown, dry lips - a browned tongue darted testingly to the fresh bloodmass. It tasted different than before; thicker and better, in a way she couldn't explain.
Torturing herself on the last step to fullfillment, she let the bloodred liquid wash over her thirsty mouth, licking up every trace of blood. She couldn't hold it any more, and hungrily tipped the glass over; moaning as she did so. The blood dripped down her throat, and she relished in the metallic taste before carefully swallowing.
Some drops fell from her lips, and she absently licked them away. Heavenly.
Her scarred arms had gotten new energy, and she felt the need for more of this wonderful, wonderful drink, more of the blood. More, more, MORE!

"Three bodies were found in Thames yesterday, all emptied for blood. Scratches and scars all over hints on it being an animals work, but it still seems peculiar that their clothes were intact and not ripped at all."