The Last Score
By: Christopher Bice

The hunger consumes me as I wander through these dark streets alone. I need one more score. I promise myself it will be my last fix of the night. Hmph that’s the same lame promise I tell myself every night. But there is no denying that burning in the pit of my stomach. This disease, this sickness haunts every waking hour of my pitiful existence. As I turn into the dark alleyway I see him, the pusher, the druggist. He watches me with keen eyes. My last fix I say to myself as I plunge my fangs into his neck.


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