The Bridegroom was hunting.

Eddie Gluskin walked through the damp hallways, humming tunelessly under his breath as his eyes darted from shadow to shadow. No, not a single one of these vermin came even close to fitting his vision of perfection. His hands flexed, a practiced gesture, stretching the fingers wide as he adjusted his grip on the jagged piece of metal he had scavenged earlier.

They knew him here, oh yes. The other patients, huddled in corners and filthy recesses, shrank back as he approached. The scent of sweat and fear was thick in the air, and Eddie found it invigorating. He could feel the need clawing at him, gnawing from within—a deep, aching hunger for a bride who was soft and pure, who would let him hold her close and pour his heart into her. A perfect, fragile beauty, one who would belong only to him.

But no, he didn’t see her here. He turned his gaze on a shivering man in a hospital gown who was crammed into a corner, looking down at the ground, desperate not to catch Eddie's eye. For a moment, Eddie’s fingers twitched toward the man. He imagined running his hands through soft, silken hair, imagined a gentle face gazing up at him with adoration. But as he stepped closer, he could smell the man's stench, see the sallow pallor of his skin, the dirt caked beneath his nails.

Disgust twisted his face, and his smile turned venomous.

“Oh, you?” he sneered, curling his lip. “You think you could be worthy of my love?” His voice dropped to a scathing whisper. “Pathetic. Look at yourself. I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last creature left on this Earth. Get out of my sight. Now.”

The man scurried away, eyes bulging, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape. “They’re all so ugly,” he murmured, voice lilting and broken. “What happened to beauty in this wretched place? What happened to grace?”

No, he told himself, you can’t settle. Not now, not ever. She’s out there. She has to be. He would find her, his bride, his delicate flower who would walk down the aisle for him.