The Night Hunt

That night, Esperanza no longer fought the violent urges clawing at her insides. If she truly was a monster — if everyone already saw her as one — she might as well embrace it. Something ancient and feral was awakening within her.

She waited until the house sank into silence, then slipped from her bed with feline grace she thought she had lost. Barefoot, she moved without a sound, avoiding every creaking board she had memorized years ago. Even forgotten habits cling like a second skin.

The summer night was warm, heavy with the scents of rural life. But Esperanza smelled only blood, pulsing in the veins of every living creature slumbering around her. She could hear the slow breaths of alley cats, the steady rhythm of the cattle in their stalls.

Mrs. Yoshida’s old cat was her first prey. The trusting animal purred softly as Esperanza lured it behind the shed. Years of study had sharpened what childhood instinct had once clumsily begun: the cold precision of a predator. The animal didn’t suffer. A clean, practiced incision with a scalpel, a precise press on the carotid artery, and warm life flowed into Esperanza’s waiting mouth.

Ecstasy hit her instantly, terrifying and glorious. Every drop connected her to something raw and essential. She was alive like never before, senses blazing, nerves alight, heart hammering in primal satisfaction. The metallic tang exploded on her tongue as she drank greedily from the limp little body.

When she lifted her head, face smeared in red, a puddle of rainwater caught her reflection. Instead of horror, she felt a fierce, wild pride. At last, she thought. At last, she was truly herself, stripped of human pretense.

The unfortunate tomcat was only an appetizer.

She turned toward her true quarry: old Tanaka’s goat herd. Larger prey, steady blood, enough to sate the craving without killing.

Slipping through the enclosure, her senses sharpened to an almost supernatural pitch. Night vision perfect, movements smooth and silent. She placed a hand on a goat’s neck, feeling its pulse drum beneath warm fur. The incision was flawless — deep enough for a steady stream, shallow enough to keep it alive.

She drank straight from the source, eyes closing as if in prayer, savoring the communion. Goat’s blood was stronger than house pets, earthier, richer. It nourished something deeper than flesh or hunger, a need ordinary food could never reach.

When she finally drew back, her nightgown was soaked crimson, and for the first time in years, a strange serenity spread through her chest. The beast inside purred with satisfaction.

But then she sensed it — eyes on her. She turned and froze. Luz stood at the edge of the field, rigid as a statue, watching her with an expression torn between terror and horrified fascination.

“Want to join the feast ?” Esperanza asked, her voice no longer fully human, soft and dangerous.

She stalked forward slowly, eyes glinting in the dark, and Luz stepped back instinctively. Yet something in her gaze — fear laced with pity — kept her rooted, unable to flee completely.

“Esperanza…” Luz’s voice shook. “You have to stop… people will figure out who’s behind this.”

“So what ?” Esperanza licked the blood from her lips, a wild spark in her eyes. “I’ve never felt my heart beat so hard… so true… as when I let the beast in me speak.”

She took another step closer, and something in her face made Luz realize — she was prey now.

“You taste different,” Esperanza whispered dreamily. “A taste of family, of memory, of… purity. Your blood haunts me.”

Luz stumbled backward faster, but Esperanza’s movements matched hers, slow and graceful, like a hunt long rehearsed.

“Nothing compares to the taste of fresh blood,” she murmured, tilting her head, nostrils flaring like an animal on a trail. “Especially… yours.”

Panic broke Luz’s paralysis. She turned and ran. Esperanza let her get a few meters ahead, savoring the tension, wanting to play with her prey. She knew she could catch her whenever she wished.

“You can’t run,” Esperanza hissed, voice slicing the night. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

And in those words, Luz heard the echo of every obsession, every nightmare from their adolescence. The hunt had begun.

As Esperanza sprinted, a strange flicker seized her mind. For an instant, Luz blurred, replaced by a mirror image of herself. Two twins running through the dark — one desperate to protect what scraps of humanity remained, the other chasing, ready to swallow it whole.

The vision staggered her, throwing her off rhythm just long enough for Luz to reach the house. The door slammed, lock sliding into place. Esperanza didn’t follow. That flicker of confusion lingered, dulling her rage for a heartbeat.

She stayed outside until dawn, licking the dried blood from her hands one finger at a time. It tasted worse cold, but it kept her tethered to that feral completeness she craved.

When she finally returned home, her parents waited in the kitchen, faces carved with fear and resignation. She said nothing under their barrage of questions, deaf to their attempts at comfort. A thin smile curved her lips, teeth still stained red.

“I am it, and it is me. You’ll have to accept that… like I have,” she whispered before vanishing into her room.

From her bed, she heard Luz’s quiet sobs seep through the walls. And somewhere deep inside, in a fragment of fading clarity, a small voice still begged her to stop, pleaded for her to seek help. But that voice grew weaker each night, drowned beneath the beast’s triumphant roar.

Esperanza spiraled into a manic state her parents had never seen. Sleep became a stranger, solid food forgotten. She drank only water tinted red from the blood she gathered nightly. Her raids grew bolder: chickens, rabbits, goats, cats — even the Yamada family’s new dog, bearing the same name as the first.

Most animals survived, frail and trembling, but the village buzzed with whispers of disease, of a strange predator haunting their nights. No one imagined the culprit was one of their own — the model daughter of the Takashi veterinarians, back from Tokyo for a peaceful summer.

Esperanza savored the irony. She even joined the conversations about the “mysterious beast,” laughing softly, offering her expert advice on veterinary care and livestock safety. People respected her knowledge. No one noticed the flicker in her eyes when they described the wounds left on their animals.

But the hunger only grew. Each feast stoked the fire, sharpened the craving. Soon, barnyard blood would no longer suffice. She needed more. Richer. Warmer. More complex.

More… human.