They were somewhere else now, and the other people that had surrounded them were now gone – there were just the two of them, her, a dying person, and him, a man without a skull mask, and somehow even her spatially incapable brain somehow managed to grasp that information. It distracted her from a fire in her body. He grabbed her left hand, the one with ferociously swollen bitemarks on it, and he put his lips on the injury. At first, she thought he was kissing it. But then, unimaginable pained soared through her like a tidal wave, wrecking her whole being on the way. She didn’t know there could be agony worse than that of poison, but if there was, this was definitely it. The man’s teeth closed around the wound where the snake’s fangs had just been, and his jaw worked its way through her skin, tearing into her flesh, causing misery so awful she passed out from it. Only to regain consciousness mere seconds later, watching the way he bit her, then drew back, then bit her again before leaning away once more as if he were repeating a strange ritual of sadism. He was a snake, he was worse than a snake, he tortured her because he liked it, she knew it. He drank her blood only to spit it out as if the taste was wrong. Was he a vampire? Is that what was lurking for her in the dark all this time?