I can’t tell her the truth about what happened to me, what I am now, and what I spend my nights doing when she thinks I’m fast asleep in bed. It’d only make her worry and would probably result in me being locked up in a mental institution. Or, if she did end up believing that I needed souls to survive, she’d be afraid of me. I don’t think I could handle my mother looking at me the same way those criminals do when they see the darkness in my eyes. My mom is all I have left in this undead life of mine, even if we’ve never been close.
My dad took off when I was a baby. I don’t remember anything about him. I’ve never seen photos of him or spoken to any of his relatives. Even his last name is a mystery—my mom changed mine to hers a long time ago. The only relative on my mom’s side that I’ve met is my grandma, but her and my mom haven’t been on speaking terms in over a decade.
I used to have friends I spent time with and told my secrets to, but those bridges were burned the first day I attended school after I died, or whatever the hell happened to me.
Maybe I was being a little overdramatic, but that day, I decided to match my outfit with the darkness I felt pumping through my veins. My normal look used to be dresses, frilly skirts, and light colors, and there were many times I joined in with my friends when they mocked the Goth kids in our school. So, imagine everyone’s surprise when I strolled into school that day sporting shredded black jeans, a black shirt, a matching hoodie, thick boots, and fingerless gloves. To add to the angst, I had stained my lips black, traced my eyes heavily with kohl eyeliner, and put a few leather bands on my wrists, but that was mostly to hide the scars on my arms. Needless to say, I was the subject of almost every conversation. I also learned that day who my real friends are, which turned out to be no one. Not even Nina stood by my side.
Honestly, when I think back and analyze our entire friendship, I’m not really that surprised. While Nina and I were besties, a lot of our friendship centered on me doing whatever she asked. In fact, I was basically her puppet, so the moment I stepped into that school wearing my all-black attire, I basically announced I cut the strings, something she was definitely not happy about.
“Where have you been?” she hissed as I approached my locker where she was waiting for me. She then noted my outfit and her eyes widen. “And what the hell are you wearing?”
“Clothes,” I said then nudged her over so I could do the combination to my locker.
“Obviously.” She narrowed her eyes. “But, why do you look like you spent the entire weekend shopping with Thorn?”
Thorn was Stars Grove High’s most feared student. He dressed head to toe in black all the time, rarely spoke to anyone, and had no real friends except for Revenna, who was about as socially awkward as one can get. No one really knew anything else about Thorn, other than he moved here freshman year from somewhere, but apparently, that was enough to socially scorn him.
“Maybe I did,” I said as I pulled open my locker. “But the real question is: why do you look like you let little birds dress you this morning?” I arched my brow at her as I gave a glance at the flowery dress she was wearing.
A few days before, I would’ve worn the exact same thing, but now all the flowers made me want to barf all over her sparkly heels.
“You’re the one who helped me pick out this outfit,” she scoffed, stomping her foot and crossing her arms, throwing a typical Nina tantrum. “Rem-Rem, seriously, what’s going on with you? You spend all week ignoring my texts and not coming to school. And you didn’t even have the courtesy to text me and let me know you weren’t coming to my party last weekend, which FYI, Zane’s pretty upset about, too. And then you show up dressed like that”—she gestured at my outfit and pulled a disgusted face—“with an attitude.”
The mention of the party made my veins simmer. I had been heading to that party when I had been attacked and I think killed by a group of people who were faceless in my memories. Then, somehow, as I lay dying all alone, I had been brought back to life. Or, well, I was moving around and acting like I was alive. But the breaths I was taking were purely instinctive. I knew this because I’d spent the entire weekend seeing how long I could hold my breath and had ended up spending the entire weekend doing so. My heart was still beating, but my chest felt hollow. Not to mention my body had more scars on it than it had a week ago. So did my soul, if I even had a soul anymore. I wasn’t quite sure about that. I also hadn’t eaten a damn thing for days but was starting to feel really hungry and that hunger was begging me to do some strange things, things I hadn’t acted on yet, but really wanted to.
Maybe I should just lean forward and press my lips to hers …
I blinked at the thought and realized I was nearly panting and Nina’s eyes were wide with horror.
“Jesus, you’re acting like a freak.” She spun on her heels and took off down the hallway, her blonde hair swaying behind her.
That was the last time she’d spoke directly to me, but she has spread a ton of rumors around school since then, so there’s that …
The truth is, I really don’t care.
I really don’t care about much anymore, except for feeding and stalking criminals. It’s become an obsession, but one I need to embrace or I’m going to return back to that place I was right after I died. The one where I nearly drank my mom’s soul when a frenzy of desperate hunger took over my body and mind. It was also the same day I realized I possessed what I call the breath of forget, which is why my mom doesn’t have a single memory of the day I pinned her down and tried to drink the life out of her. Luckily, I have a bit of humanity left inside me and managed to stop myself.
After that, I knew I had to find a way to feed my newfound hunger for souls, so I came up with my lovely vigilante plan of only drinking evil souls. It took some time to put the plan into motion, and my first attempt did not happen as flawlessly as the ones from last night. But after the third or fourth time, I started to get the hang of it, and look at me now. I’m basically a soul-drinking, vigilante expert. Well, almost.
As I rise to my feet, my gaze drops to the hole in the sleeve of my shirt, a reminder that I was shot last night. Not that the bullet did much damage. In fact, the wound has already pretty much healed. But I’m out a shirt, so that sucks.
Tugging the shirt off, I grab a T-shirt from off the floor and pull it on. Then I head over to my dresser, dig out a pair of black jeans, socks, and underwear to match, then head to take a shower.
My mom is hurrying down the hallway when I open the door.
“Good, you’re awake,” she says as she digs her car keys out of her purse.
She’s dressed for her job as a secretary at the Stars Grove Research Facility. She also takes night classes on the weekends, so she’s not around a whole lot. I used to hate her being gone so much, but now that offers the convenience of being able to do whatever I want when I want.
I brush strands of my long, wavy brown hair out of my eyes. “I told you I was.”
“I know, but you’re usually lying.” She glances up at me with a frown on her face. “I have to work late tonight, so you’re going to have to make dinner for yourself. Please actually eat this time, okay?” Her gaze skims up and down me and her frown deepens.
While she hasn’t flat-out said it, I think she believes I have an eating disorder. Not that I’m unhealthily skinny, but I am tall and slender and she barely sees me eat.
The only reason she’s seen me eat anything at all is because I purposely stuffed a slice of pizza into my mouth, hoping to alleviate her eating-disorder worries. Although, about five minutes after I swallowed the food, I got sick and puked it back up. And I think she heard me vomiting in the bathroom.
“All right, I will,” I lie, fiddling with the leather bands I always wear on my wrists to keep the scars hidden.
Her frown becomes even more prominent. “I think you and I need to have a nice, long talk about some of the stuff going on around here.” She reaches up and secures her hair into a ponytail. “How about we have lunch Sa
turday?”
“What about your classes?”
“I can miss one day.”
“Are you sure you want to do it on Saturday? We can always do it Sunday night or even Monday night?” Because, on Saturday, I have big plans. And by big plans, I mean I’m going to start tracking down my next victims. I have to start soon so I can be good and certain they’re rule number one worthy by the next time I need to feed, which will be in about two weeks. Maybe a little longer since I ate five souls last night. Still, I want to be ready when the time comes.
Suspicion rises on her face. “We’re going to have lunch on Saturday. It’s nonnegotiable, so don’t even try to get out of it or I’ll turn off the service to your phone.” She zips up her purse. “I’m sorry I’m being harsh, but you’ve been distant over the last several months, and snappy, and you’ve ditched school and snuck out of the house. Plus, your appearance …” She shakes her head as she eyes me over. “Just make sure to eat dinner tonight and get your homework done. We’ll talk more about this on Saturday.” She then turns around and walks down the hallway.
Well, this can’t be good. She’s probably going to drill me with questions in an attempt to get to the bottom of my sullen makeover and indifferent attitude. Not that I blame her, but that means I’m just going to have to lie to her more.
I’m really getting tired of it, but telling her the truth isn’t an option.
I need to think of a good lie. One that’ll satisfy her and get her off my back so I can continue on with my undead life without her breathing down my neck. Because, if she actually starts to pay attention to me and everything I do, I’ll have a real problem on my hands.
I Am Scary! I Swear I Am!
After I shower, put on my outfit, and cake on my black lipstick and eyeliner, I open my laptop to add some notes to my Eliminating the Warehouses plan. So far, it’s mainly a list of the people I’ve discovered may be involved in the human trafficking going on around here, along with the info I’ve collected on them. I also have a few potential locations of more warehouses where I plan to get my next meal. Today, though, I get to start a potential Head Honcho list.
“Axel M. and Jerry B., who are you?” I say as I type their names into the hidden file on my computer.
I thrum my fingers against the tops of my legs, debating my next move. I need to find a way to get these guys’ last names. I could always continue the torturing-their-lackeys routine, but it took me nearly six months just to get their first names.
“I need a quicker way.” I rack my mind for a few more minutes before putting a tack in it and shutting my computer down. Then I grab my bag and head for school.
I used to ride with Nina, but that hasn’t happened since the day I insulted her outfit in the hallway, so now I get to trek the couple miles to school on foot. Not that I mind. Walking helps burn off some of the restless energy that’s always buzzing through me whenever I’m around humans. Working off the energy makes me feel less hungry, which reduces the risk of me accidentally drinking someone’s soul. So, basically, me walking is a win-win for everyone if you really think about it.
Not that anyone actually knows or appreciates that. In fact, I think just seeing me walking around makes them worry about their safety.
Take my neighbors for instance. Every time they spot me strolling down the sidewalk, they either hurry back inside or glare at me like my presence is somehow offending them. Yeah, I get that I look like I just rolled out of my grave and spent the night feeding off blood, but that’s totally stereotyping. I drink souls, not blood, which is way better if you ask me. Plus, as far as I know, vampires don’t exist. Then again, up until last night, I didn’t believe any other magical or paranormal-like creatures existed. For the last year, I believed I was going to spend my entire, very lengthy life wandering around in this world alone. That if I ever did die, I’d die alone.
Not that I believe the dudes I crossed paths with last night are going to become my besties. No, if anything, I could see them becoming my arch nemeses. Not that I care. The idea of kicking their asses sounds mighty appealing. Their existences, though, means there might be others out there like me.
I’m really going to have to look into it …
I tear myself from my thoughts as one of my neighbors glares at me. At first, I used to glare back, but now I go another route.
Plastering on a big, old grin, I give her an exaggerated wave.
She’s in her front yard, watering her roses and wearing a pink, fluffy bathrobe, yet she’s looking at me like I’m the freak? Seriously, I don’t get it. But it’s amusing to watch her squirm, and I get an extra reward when she drops her hose and ends up spraying herself in the face.
She curses then glares at me like it’s somehow my fault she’s soaking wet.
Giving her another wave, I mosey my ass along toward school.
About ten minutes and a dozen dirty looks later, I’m stepping onto the asphalt that paves the parking lot of Stars Grove High. The place is depressing, all bright colors, painted banners, the air buzzing with excitement over this Friday’s football game. Gag me. I want darkness and sinister sarcasm, not school spirit and gossip about who’s going to win the big game.
“Good morning, Stars Grove students,” the intercom clicks on as I near the sidewalk that leads to the entrance doors. “I hope everyone is ready for the big game on Friday night. Just a reminder; to celebrate, we’re holding a pep rally in the gymnasium during sixth period today. Attendance is mandatory, and so is your school spirit!”
Blah. I so did not get enough sleep to deal with a pep rally. Maybe I’ll just cut sixth period so I won’t have to go. Then again, my mom will get a call from the school, which will give her one more topic to discuss with me during our Saturday lunch.
“What to do? What to do?” I mumble to myself as I make my way toward the entrance doors.
On one hand, I want to keep the lengthiness of our conversation as short as possible. On the other hand, just thinking about school spirit and pep rallies makes me want to drink all the peppiness out of everyone …
My stomach grumbles just thinking about it, and a tiny part of me wants to act on it. I could do it if I wanted to—drink everyone’s soul—but the splinter of humanity left inside me whispers that it’s probably not a good idea and that I made my rule for a reason.
Stupid humanity. Why does it always have to be so reasonable?
Sighing, I adjust the handle of my backpack, draw my hoodie over my head, and then push open the doors and step into the hallway.
While some people have gotten used to my dark presence, there are still a few who find me startling enough to gawk at. I like to play with them like I play with my neighbors, so I grin darkly at anyone who glances my way. Almost all of them look like they’re about to piss their pants. All except for one unique person.
Thorn, the goth boy of our school.
He’s basically the only person I can tolerate these days. Although, he doesn’t even try to tolerate me. He usually straight-up insults me and continuously points out how annoying I am, something I find amusingly entertaining, much to his demise.
“You’re such an attention whore,” he mutters as I stop in front of my locker, which is located next to his.
“Good morning to you, too, bestie,” I greet him with an amused grin as I spin my locker combination.
He shakes his head, strands of his raven black hair falling into his blue eyes that look alarmingly bright with the all-black ensemble he’s wearing. He even paints his fingernails black and traces his eyes with kohl eyeliner, yet he thinks I’m the attention whore?
“Stop calling me your bestie,” he gripes as he digs a book out of his locker. “I don’t even like you.”
“Lies. You know you love me.” I grin to myself as he glares at me.
“You’re the bane of my existence,” he states, slamming his locker shut.
“Which makes us so perfect for each other,” I quip with a wink.
“We’re
not perfect for each other.” He slings the handle of his backpack over his shoulder and gives me a cold look. “Unlike you, I’m not playing dress-up and pretending to be someone I’m not.”
“Hey, I’m not pretending to be anything,” I start, but he cuts me off with a snide laugh.
“You’re so full of shit. You may dress differently, but deep down, you’ll always be the shallow, self-centered girl who is Nina’s little puppet.” He holds up his hands and lifts his hands, pretending to play with puppet strings.
“You know, if I was pretending right now, I’d think you were being very cruel, but fortunately, I’m not, so I’ll let you off the hook.”
“Like you could ever do anything to me if you wanted to.” A daring taunt glitters in his eyes that makes something spark inside me.
I chew on my bottom lip, biting back a smile. I’ve always loved playing with him, but his last remark … There’re just too many fun quips that I can barely think straight.
“Do you want to test out that theory?” I finally ask.
He cocks a pierced brow, the corners of his lips tugging into a dark smile. “Is that a threat?”
“Would it matter if it was?” I question. “After all, didn’t you just say I couldn’t do anything to you even if I wanted to?”
His blue eyes assess me with either disdain or intrigue—I often get confused over emotions these days.
“You’re ridiculous,” he says conclusively.
I tsk him. “Thorn, Thorn, Thorn, how you disappointment me so? Out of all the clever remarks you could’ve come up with, the best you can do is, ‘you’re ridiculous?’ I expected so much more from you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I have to get to class.” He turns to leave, and a grin touches my lips.
“See you in third period, bestie,” I call out, drawing the attention of people around me.
Thorn flips me the middle finger from over his shoulder, but I swear I detect the faintest smile touching his lips as he glances at me. But I could very well be getting a smile confused with a sneer—it happens often.
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