I pull on some party-friendly clothes, a pair of supertight black jeans and a red-sequined tank top. It wouldn’t make sense to wear any other colors, the blood I’m bound to get on them will stain. I run to the party, the night air shooting into my lungs like cold metal, tasting different on my tongue with each step.

The party is huge, held in an abandoned barn on the outskirts of town. I’ve never been here before, so I quickly scout it out before heading inside. The stars and moon illuminate everything, turning people a strange silver-blue. Girls in too-high heels stumble from inside, laughing, followed by a burly-looking guy holding car keys. I smile, this is perfect.

Heading inside, I brush gauzy strips of fabric from my eyes, someone’s coked-out idea of decorations. It’s dark, with strobe lights flickering over the crowd, people dancing against one another. The stretched sequined halter tops act like too-round disco balls.

The smells of sweat, of pheromones, reach my nose and I grow hungrier.