Arete leans against the wall of a nearby building once she's out of the house, relieved to finally be away from the temptation to kill, and out of her bloodied clothes. Now she's at least not going to be an obvious murderer.
With the urgency of dealing with those problems gone though, she finds her fears and thoughts coming unbidden back to her mind. Why was all of this even necessary? Why was she murdering random people to sate some sort of insane blood addiction? And, she noticed this earlier, why is her heart not beating?! Her hand flew to her chest to confirm that last thought. Nothing. ...Fuck.
Arete didn't feel dead. In fact, she felt all too alive, already having killed three people. Come to think of it, she had sensed the drugs in one of them--was that why she had gone for blood? Had someone drugged her, and then she somehow just subconciously decided she needed to drink blood to get more? And the drugs were just suppressing her heartbeat so she couldn't feel it? Did that even make any sense?
She clutched at her face and growled, a disconcertingly bestial sound. None of this was making sense, crazy things like blood addiction were the stuff of children's stories, little tales to explain why murderers murder. She had known murderers throughout her life, and knew quite well that they didn't need anything like this to push them over the edge.
...She needed to get home. Her mind was still slow, foggy, and it would only get worse once people started to wake up and take to the streets. Right now, she was blessedly alone, but that wouldn't last. The fledgling vampire looked skyward: she was on the wrong side of the city, but maybe if she ran, she could get off the streets before too many people started waking up and she was choked in crowds. Then she would have time to piece together what had actually happened to her, and how to deal with it.
Just try running home. Avoid places where nightlife thrives, or anywhere else where there'd be lots of people at this hour.