“But I wasn't doin' nothing, officer.”

“Like hell you weren't. Now keep still!”

Vince couldn't believe it. He was just minding his own business when some punk ran into him and shoved a wallet in his hand. Now he was being accused of theft and his new suede jacket was being scuffed by the officer.

He kept his hands against the wall, legs spread and head down as the officer patted him down.

“Seriously, the punk who ran into me shoved it in my hands,” he cried. “You gotta believe me!”

The cop said nothing, only stood up and forced Vince's hands behind his back. Vince wanted to bash his head against the wall when the cop began dragging him to the squad car, reciting his rights. But his protests were suddenly cut off by a loud shriek.

Both men froze, looking toward the alleyway half a block away. The officer looked at Vince, then back at the alley. Another scream. He let Vince go, pulling out his gun.

“Stay here,” he said, moving toward the alley.

Vince briefly thought about running but decided it was best not to risk it. He was already accused of something he didn't do, so why add real charges? He watched the policeman disappear around the corner with his gun drawn. He leaned against the car and wondered how long this would take.

Two minutes passed and the officer had not returned. Vince shrugged it off, thinking he must have found some bum to arrest by now.

Suddenly the cop's screeching voice echoed in the night. Vince's attention snapped back to the alley. Gunshots, and another scream. Vince began shaking.

“Oh God … wh-what's happened? What the hell is in there?”

He desperately wanted to run, but the desire to help the officer overpowered his impulse to flee. He swallowed his fear and approached the alley.

Vince peered around the corner. The alley was draped in darkness. He couldn't see more than two feet. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. Maybe he should go for help. As he turned to leave, something grabbed his ankle and yanked his leg out from under him, making him fall. He landed with a cry, glancing back to see a tendril from the dark pulling him in.

“No!” he screamed, struggling and cursing the handcuffs still binding his wrists. “Help! Somebody help me!”

He was pulled into the darkness, skin scraped on the ground. He screamed and sobbed, kicking his free leg wildly. When the darkness had fully consumed him, the tendril let go. Vince scooted backward until he felt his back hit a wall. He whimpered, trying in vain to see. He cringed at the sounds of breaking bones and tearing muscle. A feast had begun, and he was soon to be part of it.

“Oh G-God. I don't w-want to die,” he sobbed.

Slowly, the darkness receded and he was able to see a thin silhouette leaning over a mass on the ground. As it cleared more, Vince realized the darkness was actually part of the creature, the shadows withdrawn into its back.

It looked almost humanoid, and somehow female. It was black with tentacle-like hair that moved around as if with a mind of its own. Its toes and fingers were tipped with long, sharp claws that were covered in blood. Its eyes were pure white, and while its fangs were also, they were currently stained red. What shocked him the most was the torn T-shirt and ripped jeans the creature wore.

This thing had once been a human girl, but now it was making a meal out of the officer, who lay motionless on the ground, rib cage open. Vince took one look at the corpse and promptly vomited. The creature looked up at him briefly, as he sobbed and curled into a ball, before leaning down and tearing out one of the cop's lungs.

“Th-this can't be happening. This is a nightmare. Wake up, Vince, wake up!” he whimpered, rocking back and forth.

“You aren't in a nightmare, Vince. This is reality,” came a demonic voice followed by chuckling.

He looked up to see the creature only inches away. He opened his mouth in a silent scream, watching it laugh at him. It reached out a claw, stroking his cheek. He let out a choked sob and turned away, shaking.

“It's horrendous, isn't it?” the creature asked, grabbed his face, forcing him to look at the corpse. “Just awful. And yet so delicious.”

Vince gagged and nearly vomited again.

“Of course, no one will believe you when you say that it was me,” the creature said. “They will all think that it was some man who was getting arrested.”

The next thing he knew, Vince was struck by the monster. His head hit the ground, causing him to black out.

When his vision returned, he was being hauled up by the collar.

“Wh-what?” he groaned. “What's going on?”

“Sick bastard,” said a policeman, one of many who were there, as he spat at Vince's feet.

Vince blinked rapidly, suddenly noticing he was wet. He looked down and screamed. He was covered in blood from his neck to his stomach. From the feel of his face, he knew it was around his mouth too.

“I didn't do it!” he shrieked, growing hysterical. “It wasn't me!”

The crowd that had formed behind the yellow tape could hear Vince's screams. One small girl in the back sneered, revealing sharp teeth still stained with blood.