May 12th, 1994
I gasped, breathing in a stinging sensation that spreads wildly across my chest.
Dust moves with my body...
What happened...?
Oh.
Oh...
Immediately, an overwhelming sadness floods my being and I struggle to inhale. My chest feels heavy, like if i laid pounds of bricks upon it.
Music bumps through the soft walls of the apartment, blocking the sounds of my agony.
I sob. I cry. I break.
"No." I would have rather die, than feel all of this. Everything hit me with ten times the impact, like a semi truck. Tears fell out of my eyes, like a stream and I struggled to keep up with wiping them away.
Words can't help me, can't describe any of this. This is wrong, it's so wrong. This wasn't what was supposed to happen to me... I was supposed to grow old, find someone or something, have purpose and settle when I needed to.
I looked down at my hands...
I am so wrong.
This isn't even me, at all.
I wasn't even at home... I was on the very other side of town, all alone.
I weakly push myself up off the floor, and the sunlight hits my eyes. I guess getting your neck snapped fucks you up, because the migraine that trailed the inside of my skull felt like an ice pick jabbing me.
"Ah," I groaned slightly, stumbling to my balance and started rushing towards the door. I said a silent prayer for hope beyond the door, something that can push me to make it home.
-
My clock ticking comforted me, as I settled onto the floor of my kitchen because I was home.
I silently hoped that magic had saved me, because the alternative would mean... a lot.
A lot of things that I would never be ready for, things that would ruin me.
I looked at the phone, longing to call my parents for some sort of relief but I looked away and decided to remain alone.
That night would be my one day off, but I considered calling in to ask for an extra day or something. "Hey, a guy with fangs snapped my neck and- oh! did I tell you I'm a witch?"
I laughed dryly at the excuse that was unfortunately my surreal reality. My gaze found the patterns of the tiles on my kitchen floor...
A line here... a line there.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5-
I got the sudden urge to call my friend, Adrianne, because she'd know... know what to do about my situation.
I picked up the blocky telephone and dial in her number, while my heart raced against the wall of my chest. Every fiber in my being was shaken and I needed someone... anyone.
"Hello!"
"Hello? Listen, it's me, Amber, I -"
"It's Adrianne Bridgers. I can't get to my phone right now, so leave a message," and the dial tone fractured the bones of my soul.
I hung up, because the weakness in my body couldn't keep me steady enough to last even five seconds longer on the one-sided call.
What do I even do?
Another ring interrupts my spiral of thought, but I recognized the call to be from my mother. "Hello?" I tried to sound bothered, but the child in me wanted her to hug me.
"Amber, are you okay?"
No, I'm not.
"Yeah, I'm fine, what's up?" I tried to keep my cool, a tear slyly fell down the left side of my face and stuck hair strands to the side of my face.
"You hung up on your father..." she paused for a moment to sigh, like she was preparing for how to handle a bomb, "look, I know it's been a while, but you should at least come over for dinner. Settle things, fix things."
"Don't bother trying to convince me... my magic isn't working. I'm a bit..." i looked down at my blood stained hands, realizing I forgot to even wash myself.
"I'm a bit rusty in that department, haha..." I tried to fake a laugh, but my voice cracked at the very end and I choked. I prayed my mother wouldn't catch it.
"Amber, please. Leave this angst and rekindle what time you have left with your father."
"Goodbye, mom." I hang up, tossing the phone and letting it hang from the line it was connected to.
It's 7 PM...? Already?
I decided to shower at that time, scratching the wrong away. Red streaks layered upon my skin and the hot water didn't burn it off enough.
My stomach growled, prodding at my attention and I turn off the water. Stepping down from the difference in level, I wrap my body and my hair.
I looked into the mirror but... I looked like nothing happened at all.
My mascara was smudged, sure, but everything else was normal... the thought of yesterday not being a bad nightmare scared me.
I looked away, not wanting to accept more of my shaken appearance. Even though I had spent the last hour in the shower, I felt so dirty still.
I still remembered the feeling of his hand pulling at my hair and the smell of alcohol on him. I remembered the stinging in my eyes, where I pleaded for my own life.
I walked out into the kitchen, looking for something to satisfy my cravings but I wasn't very surprised by this sudden appetite.
You were just dead, less than 24 hours ago...
"Shut up," I said aloud, immediately trying to shut down any flow of emotions. My body felt drained and dried of all my tears.
So weak that I couldn't even hold myself together, and I wanted to run away.
Leave this feeling all behind.
Finally, I forced myself to put on clothes like if it's the biggest challenge of the century.
The mirror of my reflection stood in the glass of the stove.
I couldn't deal with this anymore. This nagging feeling that demanded itself to be felt, so I grabbed my bag and made a run for the door.
I have to get out of here...
-
Why in the world was I walking this same path?
The same path to the library that I had taken last night.
The night before, the thought of the parker boy kept provoking my curiosity. I couldn't really ignore it, no matter how hard I tried.
We were never close, but his mysterious disappearance definitely piqued my interest.
I walked up the stairs of the library, silently counting each step and avoiding the cracks of the decaying cement.
I felt so... cold.
Dizzy.
I coughed, struggling to catch my breath at the very last step. My rings made a clashing sound, when I gripped the rail of the stairs.
Maybe yesterday was catching up with me physically...
I continued my path, ignoring the lady at the desk who eyed me from above the frame of her glasses.
"Family Massacre Portland, Oregon."
"Jeez, I'm gonna get a hit from the FBI, now." I muttered to myself, trying to break the depressing tension that had been following me.
Every article said the same thing...
"Four casualties... One missing... family has refrained from commenting further..."
I searched... and searched... but every article was a repeat of the last with the same old photo being reused. "Speaks volumes," I scoffed, and begin to log off the computer.
...
I was about halfway home when I saw her.
She looked young, maybe 17? She was walking the opposite direction, barely brushing past me when I felt something possess me.
Something took ahold of me, moved my limbs one by one with no effort. I felt inside of myself and outside all at once.
I turn around, a version of me hungry.
She turned, directly into a deserted alleyway.
This behavior was so compulsive, my morals didn't give time for reason or question.
I just knew I had to follow her...
We turned a few more times, but I guess she had taken a notice to the extra pair of footsteps. She stopped suddenly and I followed her actions like a puppet.
She turned around slowly, but breathed a sigh of relief when she saw me... A girl. A random young girl.
"Oh gosh, haha, you scared me," she laughed me off, but for some reason this irked me and I wanted to slash her throat with every particle in my body.
I said nothing, too far unfocused and way too hyper focused at the same time.
...
She began to back away slowly, hesitating before she ran the other direction.
Her freedom lasted only a few seconds, before she fell and scratched herself against the gravel of the floor.
What's that... smell?
I kept walking to her, even though she was already down.
"Please, I don't have any money," she pleads with me, plastering the palms of her hand together.
The smell...
of blood.
I just wanted a taste.
That's all I needed, I promised myself mentally.
On the outside, I remained in a daze and shakily reach out for the surface of her cheek.
Her eyes widened, "What's wrong with-"
She stopped speaking in horror, as i grazed my lip with her blood.
Then all of a sudden, pressure built itself up in me and I needed release.
My hand gripped the side of her head, and she finally screamed out.
"Somebody, help me-"
I silenced her, biting down into the flesh of her neck and her head made a splitting crack against the pavement when I let go of her limp body.
What did you just do?
I don't know... I don't know.