Having a diet solely of spilled blood can be difficult, especially when you cannot spill it yourself. I walked through the steam tunnel alone, holding back my rage. It had been almost forty-one days since my last meal. I was trapped down here. A poorly delivered joke if you ask me. I tried to trick the rats to fight, but without anything for them to eat, I could only lure them into squeaking foreplay. Then a shimmer of hope, the smell of blood, drops of it escaped the iron pipe in the ceiling from the slaughterhouse above ground.


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