àWell, fuck. I should have made the connection more obvious.
The idea is, the main character had been fighting her urges for some time now û even before she meets the other character, sheÆs mentally blocking out the descriptions of blood and flesh. The problem is, this leaves her achingly cold and wasting away from hunger.
And then she meets the man. Her mind is ordering her to feast on him, drink and bathe in his blood û and as time passes, it gets harder to block the voice. Her will is weakening.
But, heÆs warm. After years, decades of cold, to be warm is to be in paradise.
So she risks what she has û her sense of morality, her sanity û in order to stay with him. But she underestimated her hunger, foolishly believed that it could be sated with cold, disgusting blood. She had survived for who knows how long û had she left him, she would have kept her mind.
But she made the gamble. She tried to resist her hunger, tried to win her ticket to paradise. And she lost. Everything.
When she wakes up, she believes herself to be warm, to be full. But theyÆre booby prizes û she lost her source of warmth, her paradise. She lost her mind, because, in the end, she canÆt block out the hunger anymore. Sure, she thinks that sheÆs warm, full, happy. But itÆs not what she wanted, and the price was far too much. Her soul is no more; what remains is a monster driven only by instinct.