All I want is a quiet life. I have a one bedroom apartment, it’s rent controlled, and I’ve never missed a payment. I work hard and I pay my bills on time. I work in warehouse moving boxes and driving a forklift. Mostly at night. I clock in and out on schedule. I’m not a social animal, and I like it that way. I have three other apartments on the same floor as mine, and they all know to stay out of my way. I stay out of theirs, so it’s only fair. That’s the way I like my life. Quiet. Without incident. No complications that come from willingly interacting with others. I work, come home in the early morning hours, go to sleep, eat, relax in my apartment, and then head back out to work. A quite but stable existence. Normal. Safe.

All in all, my hermit lifestyle was going really well. Until she moved into number 12 directly opposite me.

I saw her for the first time 3 months ago. I was minding my own business, holding a grocery bag in each arm to my chest and five strides away from the door, when there she was. The door to number 12 propped open with one foot as she signed for a parcel. She was smiling and her loose curly blonde hair was tousled around her face like a damn halo. Her eyes were the deepest green I’ve ever seen. Her lips thin and expressive. Smiling seemed to be her default setting. She was even humming as she signed for a large flatpack box.

Somehow I forgot my usual habit of avoiding eye contact and stared right at her. The siren smiled directly at me, despite my rough as hell appearance, and waved.

“Oh you must be my new neighbour. Hi. I’m Candice. I’m moving in today. I have some furniture to build today but otherwise I’m really quiet. What’s your name sir?”

I stared at her then. I didn’t talk to people. I quiet easily went weeks without uttering a single word, since no one tended to be around at the warehouse when I clocked in and out. Yet here was a beautiful young woman, looking me in the eye and expecting basic conversation. How she could even see my eyes beneath my old hoodie and I’m so unkempt you couldn’t spot any seam between my black beard and my scraggly hair. Instinctively I lowered my head and hunched a bit to appear smaller and less threatening.

To my humiliation I coughed when I tried to speak. Eventually I managed to grunt out ‘Dax’, before shuffling to my door number 11. Thankfully the delivery guy took her attention again as I put one of my bags down to unlock my door. Once inside my apartment I locked the door and put my groceries on the table in my open plan kitchen…

…to then return to my door.

I knew it was a bad idea to look through the spyhole at her and listen in to her sweet voice. For one such as me, she was bad news. She was beautiful, even in her ripped jeans and long sleeved pink sweater, she looked far too tempting. I resound myself to just avoiding her. Tennent’s came and went all the time. Surely a beautiful and happy woman like this Candice wasn’t going to be stuck in this squaller for long. The building used to be a massive derelict warehouse on the docks, until 10 years ago when the owner had it converted into apartments. Yeah. Young pretty trouble beacon wouldn’t stick around the likes of here for a while…

Or so I thought.

A few days later I find her in the hallway again. This time struggling with her own groceries and trying to make it to her front door before her bags split. She didn’t make it.

“Damn it! I was so close too!”

I watched her like the predator I am, peering out from beneath my hoodie and gripping my fists by my sides. She knelt on the ground and comically scooped her hands around to try and gather together her various tins and jars as they rolled around. One particular bottle came to a stop at the toe cap of my left boot. Without thinking I reached down and picked it up. If my face wasn’t mostly buried beneath hair and a hood, I would have likely looked just as pink as Candice did when she realised what I had picked up. “Oh-oh no I-crap. I erm…yeah that’s mine.” She giggled with embarrassment and put down her retrieved food items to sheepishly retrieve the bottle of strawberry flavoured lubricant I now held like contraband in my left hand. “I…I’m a young woman in my prime. I’m not apologising for seeing to my own needs. So…can I have that back?” Candice was flustered, but she wore it well. She laughed and held both hands out. “Please can I have my lube Dax?”

When I saw her lips form my name, and the sound slithered beneath my matted hair to my ears, I felt something spark deep inside my chest. Rattling the dust off my self-restraint and testing my resolve. I quickly grunted and extended my hand to release the little pink bottle into her waiting hands, before grunting and shuffling around her to get to my apartment. I had to get away from her.

As the weeks pass the most I would see of Candice is from across the hall. She would smile and blush, likely recalling the lube incident, but never seemed to shy away from me. Unlike the rest of my neighbours, now and past tense, she didn’t seem to have the natural prey instinct to stay away from me. Every time we crossed paths she tried to engage me in conversation.

“Lovely weather we’re having ay Dax?”

“Did you catch the game last night? I mean, I prefer baseball myself. What about you Dax? You a football or a baseball kind of guy?”

“Hey Dax! I don’t suppose you know any good places to order out from around here? I’ve had a long day and really can’t bring myself to cook.”

“Good afternoon Dax. You’re like a night owl huh? Off to work at this time? Yeah I do night shifts at the 24 hour diner I work at sometimes. Not through choice of course. It’s a bit spooky at night when the place is near empty.”

It was getting harder to appease the blonde nightmare with nods, grunts, and the odd single word here and there. She kept trying to engage me in full on conversation. There were times where I would just have to back away and retreat to my apartment. That worked the first few times, but then she started to frown the moment I’d take a step back, and trap me there. Candice was devastatingly beautiful and bright, but when she was upset it seemed to cut me deeply. Like I’d done something wicked by rejecting her pleasantries. So as the time went on I found it harder and harder to flee from her hypnotic green eyes and soft smile.

I had to admit, that by the time two months had passed, I was getting used to Candice. She ordered a lot of stuff online so she was regularly out in the hallway when I left for work or returned from grocery shopping. One polite almost conversation later I’d be in my apartment and doing everything I could to calm my skin. It itched and my fingers itched even more so.

To move unnaturally. To obey my instincts. To take what was not mine to take.

It had been years since I had to increase my regime like this, but darn it if Candice didn’t tempt me something awful. I was determined not to relapse. So I made sure to wash or spray away her scent, get a cold shower, eat and meditate to relaxing music.

Oh, and drink my body weight in blood.

It wasn’t human blood or anything like that. I was on the wagon. Reformed and happily living a secluded life of isolation. Apart from grocery shopping, and now a certain chatty neighbour, I didn’t see anyone to be tempted. I knew my baser nature was being resuscitated when my gums started to itch too. At first I only ended the night after returning from work to swallow gallons of pig blood and lay comatose on the sofa once a week. Then it became every few days. Now it’s a daily occurrence...

I find myself listening intently for any sign of movement. Going to my door and staring through the spy hole whenever I heard her come out to sign for another parcel. It was my guilty pleasure. I could never allow myself to be close to beautiful Candice, but on the other side of a locked door I could look at her. She was so radiant. So full of life and warmth. Like a moth to the flame I was drawn to her light. But I would not allow myself to risk exposure, or her inevitable rejection. If she knew what I was? What I truly was? The only way Candice would greet me is by screaming and running for her life.