being a red life as body horror. as an unrelenting pressure pushing out of every orifice of your body until you feel like you're about to explode. until you can think of nothing else. as the inability to draw your eyes from the flush of your friends' cheeks or ignore the warmth of their skin. red life as a living Thing inside of you wrestling its way out, no matter how hard you try to control it. slipping past your teeth with pleas to get a kill, a whine that you cannot contain, no matter who you are with. being around other red lives like being dogs straining against their leashes to attack prey (and if you can't find any, the voice whispers-- the other dogs can bleed just as well). red life as a constant body need like hunger or thirst or rest, all of which are muted the longer it's been since you've killed, body on a thrumming, low fight mode to satiate the craving.