I was just trying to make it to graduation. Classes by day, coffee shop by night, that was my life. No parents. No foster homes. Just me, surviving on scraps of hope and caffeine. But one walk home changed everything. One moment, I was on the phone with my best friend. The next, a hand was clamped over my mouth, the world spinning as something sharp sank deep into my skin. I should’ve died right there on that cold, dark street. But death never came. Instead… I woke up hungry. Not the kind of hunger food fixes. This was deeper, darker — and it came with fangs and cravings I swore I’d never have. I despised humans for the way they used, abandoned, and broke people like me. Now? They’re the only thing that keeps me alive. I never asked to become a monster. But that’s exactly what I am.
View MoreI don’t know what it is about the walk home after work maybe it’s the quietness of the road or maybe it’s the fact that the whole city feels like it’s holding its breath but there’s always a moment when my brain decides to be dramatic. And tonight, that moment came the second I turned down the alley. It was colder than usual today not sweater-weather cold just bone-prickling, skin-goosebumping cold. The kind that crawls under your jacket and settles there like it plans on staying forever and that didn’t make sense. We hadn’t had so much as a breeze all week, and suddenly the air felt like November decided to pay an early visit. “Okay,” I muttered to myself, hugging my arms a little tighter. “That’s weird. But not horror-movie weird, Just… weather weird.” I kept walking,my sneakers echoed on the cracked pavement. The alley was narrow and long, framed by rusting fire escapes and graffiti-covered walls. Trash cans lined the sides, their lids rattling softly whenever the wind pi
There’s a special kind of chaos that comes from being late. Not fashionably late though, I mean sprint-down-the-hall-while-your-heart-beats-like-a-jackhammer kind of late. And that was exactly the mood I was in when I spotted Mia standing at the front steps, waving her arms like a human windmill. “Finally!” she yelled, shoving a breakfast bar into her mouth mid-sentence. “I was starting to think you died.” “Not yet,” I panted, slowing my jog as I reached her. “But if I have to run any further, that might actually change.” “Running’s good for you,” she teased, tossing her hair dramatically. “So is shutting up,” I shot back, grinning myself an loving this. She gasped in fake offense. “That’s rude!, I am a morning sunshine incarnate.” “You’re morning nuisance incarnate,” I corrected. Before she could fire back, Jonah joined us, earbuds dangling from his neck and that lazy smirk plastered across his face,the one that made teachers think he didn’t care and made girls line u
By the time I got home, my body felt like it was made of wet cement. My shoes hit the floor with a dull thud the second I stepped into my apartment, and my backpack followed, sliding down my shoulder and collapsing in a sad heap by the door. My fridge hummed lazily when I opened it. I got half a carton of orange juice that I left maybe probably last night, a sad-looking apple, and the remains of last night’s pasta which stared back at me. Yup gourmet dining at its finest. I tossed the pasta into the microwave, listening to the dull buzz as I took off my jacket and let it hang from the back of a chair. When the microwave dinged, I hurriedly plopped down on the couch and dug in, barely tasting a thing. It was fuel nothing more, nothing less not you whole favorite kind of pasta trust me. It was survival on autopilot kind of pasta you just take it to fill your stomach. When the plate was empty, I stared at it for a long second before setting it aside. My eyelids were already heavy, a
LILIAN POV: My alarm on my cracked phone screen screamed at me like it had a personal grudge, I mean why won't it and guess who set the damn alarm me!. “Ugh,” I groaned, rolling over and slapping it into silence. “if morning had a face, i swear I'd punch it.” The ceiling of my tiny studio apartment stared back at me with the same dull indifference it always had. There was a single water stain above my bed which looked suspiciously like it was growing mold, and the half-broken fan in the corner rattled like it was one more spin away from giving up, i know it's pathetic but whatever, I sighed and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Congratulations, Lilian,” I muttered to myself, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “You survived another night of not dying in your sleep. My medal’s should be in the mail.” The floorboards were cold against my bare feet as I shuffled toward the bathroom. I got my toothbrush ready to start off with my morning grooming, and I had a quick co
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