But as I stepped out of the school entrance into the parking lot, there she was—Vic, waiting on her Harley-Davidson Iron 883. She looked every bit the rebellious spirit she always was. Clad in her usual attire—a crop top with a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and sunglasses—she exuded an effortless badass vibe. The faint glow of her cigarette punctuated the dusk, a thin wisp of smoke curling around her like a halo of defiance. She took a drag, the ember flaring briefly, illuminating her face in the twilight. Her presence was a stark reminder of the duality of our existence: the calm before the storm.
I knew she was going to ask about my day. I just hoped she wouldn't ask where I was heading. But by the look on her face, I knew she knew I was hiding something. She'd probably run me over with her Harley if I didn't spill or make a run for it. And I didn't want to look like roadkill when I officially introduced myself to the girl.
She put her cigarette down. "Vinnie, you better spill whatever you're hiding," she said in her usual older sister tone.
I knew her weakness was usually my emotions, and she knows I never lie about them when they're overwhelming. I also hate lying to my sisters, especially Vic, but this whole day screamed abnormal. If this day is going like this, I might as well go with it and lie.
"Look, sis, you weren't at school with me today, and it's been one emotional explosion after another. I just need to hit the woods for a hunt, clear my head, and get some peace away from all the commotion. I'll meet you at The Den when you finish your night shift, alright?"
She sighed, patted my head, messing up my hair a little. Then she took a final drag, hopped on her Harley, and rode off.
I thought I was in the clear. As I passed the asphalt road toward the woods, following the trail toward the mysterious girl, I heard the unmistakable roar of Vic's Harley engine—a deep, guttural growl that sent vibrations through the asphalt.
All I could think was, shit, she knew me too well. I knew I was going to get run over, but crossing the road, I realized I should just give up and end up as roadkill. Sighing, I lay down on the ground, eyes closed, waiting for the inevitable: all the lying, grief, and love, all in one day. I just waited for it to end.
I woke up. I wasn't at home with Vic patching me up. My head buzzed. I was lying under trees. It was dusk. My body ached, and I craved blood. I tried to get up, but my legs were still shattered. I twisted my fingers back into place. Then I heard a bittersweet humming in the distance, mixed with a heartbeat.
Hunger and adrenaline helped me heal. I rushed toward the source, and with vampire speed and thirst guiding me, I pinned someone to a tree.
In an instant, I saw I had pinned a girl—around my age—against the bark. My fangs were bared. Her scent hit me. I opened my eyes and froze.
Those green eyes. The dramatic eyeliner. The parted lips. The fear and defiance were mixed on her face.
It was her.
Her chest heaved. Her warmth radiated off her. I froze. My mouth opened. My instincts screamed, but I couldn't move.
Her heartbeat echoed like a drum solo in my ears. I stared into her eyes, flooded with tenderness and longing. Tears welled in my own eyes. I almost took the life of someone who stirred something profound in me.
Then, she bit my neck.
It didn't hurt.
It sent a wave of unexpected pleasure through me.
The intimacy of it threw me off. She shoved me away with surprising strength. I stumbled and fell hard. My legs—still healing—protested. Pain lanced through me.
But I laughed. A light, childlike laugh. Because even that pain was better than the maddening desire she made me feel.
Her scent lingered. I could track her. We were deep in Raven Woods. Running would be hard for her.
She was my obsession.
I brushed off the dust, reset my bones, and followed her trail.
Despite my slow start, I caught up easily. I stood in front of her, 6'1" to her 5'6". She shook slightly, trying to hide her fear. But I didn't want to hurt her. I just wanted to know who she was.
I could erase her memory. Make her mine. But that would be hollow. I wanted something real.
I listened to her body—her heartbeat, her breath. I was mesmerized. If she ran, I would let her go.
She took a deep breath. Then asked, "So, aren't you going to kill me or suck my blood?"
I didn't answer. I was too stunned. The forest wind blew through our hair. She fixed hers, then stared into my eyes, searching.
She didn't speak again. Just looked.
Her gaze was intense. Time slowed. Her trembling lip, her steady breath, her heartbeat—all drew me in. The world faded around us.
Her eyes asked questions I couldn't answer aloud. Was I always a monster? Could I ever be human again?
Did she see the predator? The killer?
Her bravery ached in my chest. Maybe she understood the loneliness—the pain.
Then, I made a decision. I shared a piece of my memory with her—me sitting beside her in history class. I let her hear my thoughts and feel my longing.
When the vision faded, tears streaked down her cheeks. She turned her face away.
Had I gone too far?
But then she said, "I thought I was the only one who saw you in this school. Since you entered junior year, I've wondered who that quiet kid under the bleachers was. I tried calling you many times but could never reach you."
Her voice shook with honesty. "It felt like you were in your world, and I was in mine. I always tried to peek into your world. To understand you."
Then, more clearly: "I'm Annabel."
Like her name alone could build a bridge between us.