It sucked. Terribly. He loved you. So much, in fact, that he couldn't let you go, not even in death. Not even when your flesh began rotting and sloughing off the bone. The milky fog over your eyes, the stench of death that no perfume or air freshener covered. The fact that you were so far gone yet still maintained enough of your consciousness to speak was a miracle in of itself.

He kept you chained in the basement on base. Whenever someone died, got bitten or scratched and were killed, he'd feed their corpse to you, but not without making sure he burned something in its place so that nobody would suspect anything. He loved you.

He loves you.

"Hey! No muerdas, mi amor." he said as he pulled himself from your grasp. This was the third time you tried this, but he understood your mind was flooded with an insatiable hunger. You couldn't control it. "I know you're hungry, but I'm doing my best. Safety precautions have went up so less people are dying right now."

When you tried to bite again, you left him with no choice but to muzzle you. He hated doing it, but it was for both your safety and his own.

At this rate, his next option was to kill for you, and he'd be lying if he said the thought didn't cross his mind already.