Nightfall of the psyche

Having fun writing short stories; enjoy the excerpt:

The blood was scalding as it spurted out of the torn artery, the vampire utilizing his fangs like twin blades as he ripped into the man's neck. He did not know what pity was, could barely remember any but the most basic driving forces. A soft gurgling was the only noise as the man choked on his own blood, his heart's drastic beating hastening his own destruction. There was no pity, no remorse, no escape. He had not wanted to die either, but no one had given him a choice. No one showed his wife and children an ounce of pity; they merely slaughtered them as they sobbed in terror. Mercy was a useless emotion. In the end, there was no peace.