Feasting On The Blood Of The Insane Novels & Stories

"Because I want to." My eyes blink rapidly. Seeing the people that came here, and also knowing that this was the party… bad images formed in my imagination. He is a psychopath, and everyone who works under him is nothing more than a pack of wolves following the alpha. Are they going to do something? Rituals? Would they after feasting kill each other and eat the corpses of those who died at their hands? It's terrible, and it's the result of the dark novels I've always read. But it's not that it's impossible.

His sinistic hungry gaze bored deeper into her afraid hazel ones as he leaned his face closer to her and finally her existence froze hearing his those words. "I am an insane sinner and I will ruin my Heaven with my insanity, "

It's like my body is eating itself, I can see how the skins on my body can be seen and what's more I can see my bones. I was holding my hand and in shock and anger, all I could do was scream. I'm drowning in my own bl*od and I feel like my body is being burned by acid... Whole body. "Garg—aghhh! W-what's happening to me— P-Psyche?! E-Erah?!" I screamed when I also noticed Psyche and Erah who were now in front of me drowning in their own bl*od just like me, it was as if the body was being cooked by acid.

And as if the last of my sanity broke apart, I pounce in the air, my mind going blank, nothing running through my mind but the urge to kill. I need blood, and what I want is what I should get, like how it has always been. Dawn broke through the forest while I was having my fair share of breakfast. I rip the naked one’s head off, spewing it on the ground, and with one single claw, I pull each one of his eyeballs, throwing it on a small fox lingering around. The other was already on his wolf and was running for his dear life. He was a few meters away before I tackled gin to the ground, growling.

note that this is illegal. With a deep breath, Athena clicked on the files Jay had sent her, and a series of mugshots filled her screen. Five faces stared back at her, each with a haunting story to tell. The first inmate, Karam Abigal, sent a shiver down Athena's spine. The sheer brutality of his crimes, the annihilation of an entire family, shook her to her core. It was chilling to read that he suffered from depression and schizophrenia, mental illnesses that seemed to contribute to the unimaginable acts he had committed. His impending death in five months added another layer of gravity to the situation.

… When they displayed the sisters, they were left alive—but with their limbs amputated—in two large urns. We were shocked by the intensity of the brothers' insanity. Zagreus even beamed at me. "Don't worry. This is just the overture. Once their wounds heal, we will cut them up bit by bit again! Until they are dead and in pieces!" "What about their company?" I asked. Zion answered excitedly, "No worries! We've purchased the Steins' company. You will own it tomorrow!" The sisters—whose eyes had been blinded—cried tears of blood.

But I’m supposed to be drinking blood to get used to not killing someone. Controlled hunger. Measured hunger. Leviath insisted on it. Not starvation. Not indulgence. Balance. The word lingers in my thoughts like a fragile promise. The doors open quietly. Conversation dims. My pulse stutters once. Feeders enter. Three of them this time. Calm. Composed. Prepared. They move with quiet familiarity, stepping into the room with practiced ease that suggests this ritual is not new, not shocking, not something to fear. Each one carries the faint, unmistakable scent of living blood, warm and steady and bright as sunlight beneath skin.

She’d fled the library to escape their voices, their touches, but the storm in her chest followed her, heavier now in the crowded cafeteria. Her senses were too sharp, catching every detail—the scrape of plastic forks, the sweet sting of cheap body spray, the pulse of a hundred heartbeats. Her nails ached, digging into her palms under the table, and she clenched her fists, scared they’d sharpen again. The prophecy—Born of man and moon—churned in her mind, making her feel like a stranger in her own skin. She just wanted to be normal, to blend into the cafeteria’s chaos, not this hybrid caught in a web of love and lies.

The brothers went wild at the scent of my blood, completely consumed by the wildness, their former selves erased, replaced by the creature's savage form. They snarled, thick saliva dripping from their lengthy, terrifying fangs, a terrifying display of predatory intent. Their eyes blazed with a furnace-like intensity, reflecting the untamed savagery within, the untamed darkness that had claimed them. My feet halted, paralyzed by a sudden, all-consuming fear. I swallowed, my throat dry, forcing myself to summon the courage to move, to execute my plan, even as the odds seemed to shift against me. "How do I feed them my blood?" I pondered aloud, the question a desperate plea for a solution.

His chest felt tight, a knot of anxiety twisting with each beat of hisheart. His hands trembled, the tremors betraying the turmoil inside. His pulse hammered, a chaotic mix of pain, want, and something else—something he wasn't ready to name, something that felt dangerously like hope, a traitorous "icker in the darkness. Then, without thinking, driven by an impulse he didn't understand, a desperate need to contain the chaos, to shut out the world, he grabbed the chain. The metal wascold and rough against his skin as he yanked, the heavy bay door groaning in protest as it began its descent.