Sandra, alone with her thoughts

"Melanie....I don't know... but it feels good" Sandra says to her sister. Melanie holds her bleeding lip, fear plastered on her face. Sandra reaches for her, but Melanie stumbles down the attic stairs, slamming the door behind her. Sandra is alone. She looks out the window. The sun is setting now, and is behind the neighboring houses. Soon it will be dark she thinks, excitedly.

Sandra is only now realizing how ravenous she is. The small taste of Melanie's blood unlocked a deep hunger in her, unlike anything she's ever felt. I want more. I need more she thinks.
Alone to her thoughts, she realizes how blase her reaction to what is happening really is -- but she can't help feeling what she's feeling. Sandra doesn't consider that the mysterious ruby liquid might just be inducing mental changes just as profound as the obvious physical ones. She feels normal.

The physical transformation is profound. The changes, which at first were only a new set of razor sharp fangs and an unnatural pallor, have now happened all over her body. She feels her breasts straining against what was before a comfortable bra. Moving her head, her hair feels heavier and thicker on her shoulders. Capping her fingers, she sees long fingernails that some might call claws. Sandra's waist feels narrower, and her butt rounder and higher, making her shift uncomfortably in her jeans ill fitting jeans.

Her attraction to her sister does strike her as odd. Melanie is drop-dead gorgeous. We love each other. Why shouldn't we? Sandra rationalizes.

Sandra lifts the discarded vial from the attic floor, and pockets it for later. About two thirds the rich red fluid remains. Sandra goes down the attic stairs, careful to avoid windows and the last rays of sunlight. Melanie's door is closed. She goes to it, about to knock, but stops herself. I'll talk to her later. And hopefully more than talk. But first...I'm so thirsty.

Sandra goes to her own room, stripping out of her ill-fitting clothes. She puts on a skirt and a top...not a perfect fit, but manageable she thinks. Sandra admires herself in the mirror, noting her full red lips, her smoky eyes, her smooth skin, her full breasts. I am stunning she thinks, proud of her body.

The sun has finally dropped below the horizon. Already, she feels more alert, stronger. Sandra is ready to hunt.