One bag of blood, that's all I could have for today. Though perhaps I should try Elijah's schedule method.

No, I can do this on my own.

I could survive without Elijah.

I could.

A man walked into the compound. Young. Vampire. He had to have been recent. I don't remember him from before Mikael. "I'm looking for Marcel."

"Not here."

I curled up further in the armchair in the courtyard, my blood bag clutched in my hands.

It had gone bad.

Wouldn't be drinkable.

I'd taken too long trying to find my sense of control and then there was still the sound of those damn chains. Made me lose my goddamn appetite.

The acidic taste of bile lingered on my tongue.

I'd lost seven years.

Damon and Stefan have been gone for seven years.

"...Are you okay?"

"Just peachy."

"You don't look it." He approached cautiously. "In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you haven't had enough blood because your skin is still kinda gray, which would make you a vampire."

"Come to that conclusion all by yourself, genius?"

Then it dawned on him. "You're Morgan. Klaus' kid."

"Elijah's, actually." Not that it mattered.

"Yeah, but you're a legend."

"Thanks?" Who the fuck was this guy? "Could you wait for Marcel somewhere else, I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

"It's not even just among the vampires. Everyone knows who you are."

"They know my name. Not me."

He glanced down at the blood bag. "Why aren't you drinking?"

"Tell me, do you like the ability to breathe? Because if you don't stop talking, I will take that from you."

The man took a step back, though annoyingly, he continued. "I remember my first taste of blood. My first thought was 'did I really have to drink this the rest of my life?' and then it started tasting good-"

"Fucking stop." This was the last thing I needed right now. I got up. "My god. I don't need a play by play of your transition."

There was fear in his eyes and I realized my fangs had made an appearance. Which meant my vampire expression was out.

Fuck.

I took a deep breath, and began moving to the door. "I'm going for a walk. Tell Marcel I'll be back." This was my city as much as Mystic Falls was. "Oh, and that I'm fine."

"Wait. What just happened?"

Great, he was following.

"Morgan!"

"Leave me alone."

"No, wait."

As soon as I was out on the street, I regretted it. There were so many people. So much blood I could drink.

Shit.

Elijah would know how to fix this.

No. I didn't need him. I could figure it out on my own.

Just breathe.

I used my speed to find a nice, quiet alleyway and leaned against the brick wall.

Breathe.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Fuck. I spun around. There was a woman. Her heart beat loudly in my ears. Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump. All that delicious blood coursing through her body.

"Miss?" She stepped closer wearily.

No. I couldn't. If I indulged, I wouldn't be able to stop. I'd feed and feed. She'd be dead within minutes.

Don't do it.

Don't do it.

Don't. Do. It.

"I'm gonna call 911." The woman pulled out her phone. "Stay there."

She smelled sweet, like flowers and fresh linen. Not the artificial shit either. My god. She smelled amazing.

Delicious.

Morgan. No.

She was just trying to help. I couldn't- wouldn't kill her. She didn't deserve it.

The ripper in me was screaming to get out. That it only wanted a taste and that it'd be satisfied and though I knew it was a lie, I couldn't say I wasn't tempted.

All I could focus on was the blood rushing through her veins, running through her pumping heart. Jugular on the neck was where the best blood was.

The tastiest.

The sweetest.

My mouth was watering at the very thought, practically salivating.

Frustrated tears brimmed in my eyes as I fought not to attack her. I'd reach her in a few short strides.

I could compel her not to scream. That would be easiest. Maybe then I'd be able to hide it from Marcel and I was so hungry.

Fuck it.

I rushed at her, pinning her to the wall and latching onto her throat before she could react.

Oh god.

As blood poured into my mouth, I felt the last remnants on my brittle control shattering. It was like puncturing a bag of water, ready to burst. Her lips parted in a silent cry.

God. I couldn't stop.

Her fight began to wane, her pushing hands slowly falling to her sides. The woman slumped against the wall and I had to hold her up. I knew I'd bled her dry when it grew harder to drink. Yet I still didn't stop.

Not until her head fell.

I took a step back, breathing heavily.

What a rush. I'd forgotten what it felt like to just give in.

There was a scream, and a grin stretched my lips.

More.