#tw:death

You still aren’t sure what happened. Her entire family was so hush about it. All you knew was that one day she was laughing and smiling with you at school. The next, she was gone. 

Word travels fast in your small town. Everyone knew the Gojo girl mysteriously vanished. There were so many theories. Everyone made your friend their own little true crime fixation. It made you sick. Some thought she was taken for ransom. Others thought she ran away with a man double her age. 

The worst one were rumors of a sacrifice to a demonic entity. 

Hearing people speculate of her disappearance and missing her presence all felt so unbearable. Days passed, and your morale grew lower and lower.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure everything’s ok. Stop worrying so much.” Your mother assures you. 

“Her family probably went on a trip and she forgot to tell you. You know how careless that girl is.” She laughs. 

You do know how careless she is. Toru was smart, but she constantly dropped pens and pencils. She’d forget what her next class was. She’d lose her own head if it weren’t attached to her. 

You berate her for it. She only laughs you off.

“I have you to take care of me, don’t I?” 

You felt like crying all over again. 

Disappearing without telling you wasn’t like Satoru. She’d tell you everything, regardless if you wanted to hear it or not. A sudden family trip without you knowing is unheard of. 

Something had happened to her, but no one believed you. 

“At the same time she’s so responsible.” Your mother continues to gush. “I still remember how brave she was the day she saved you from that lake. How old were the two of you? Nine? Ten?” 

Your mom is starting to say something else, but you want a break from her rambles about Toru. Instead, you grab the full trash can, muttering how you’ll be back, before disappearing out into the night air. 

October night blooms above you. It was chilly- enough to make you feel goosebumps. You didn't linger on it. You’d only be out here for a few minutes at most. 

You placed the trash can beside the curb. The suburban community you lived in was quiet as always. It was dark. The only light you had was the dim glow of a nearby streetlight. 

It takes a while for your eyes to adjust. 

And then you notice there’s a person on the other side of the road. 

You’re not too alarmed at first. It’s probably just someone taking a walk. This is a safe neighborhood. 

But they move so silently. You didn’t notice them until you saw them. They’re so quiet, even as they step off the sidewalk and onto the road, headed straight for you. 

You’re too slow to react. You take a step back, then another. You might’ve run after that, but you couldn’t trust yourself. You always had terrible instincts. 

There’s a flicker of light. Long, white hair makes you pause. 

“…Toru?” 

She freezes. 

You watch as a slow smile stretches across her face. 

“I found you.”

You should’ve noticed it then. You should’ve picked up on how off her smile was. Too wide, too many teeth, like she was mimicking mirth. You should’ve noticed her stature, the way she moved when she walked. 

You don’t. You just run to her. 

You just care how cold she is as you hug her. She’s always been taller than you, but you manage to envelop her in your hold as tightly as you could. 

She doesn’t react. She remains stiff as a corpse. 

You pull away. She’s still smiling. 

“Where were you?” You exclaimed. “I was so worried! I—I called and texted but you never responded. I even went up to your house and it was completely empty. Did you guys go on vacation or something…” Your voice trails off as you glance down. 

She was barefoot. When you glanced around, you didn’t see her car parked anywhere. 

“Toru?” You ask, finally taking a proper look at her. “Did you walk all the way here…barefoot?” 

Her eyes, they’re so bright and blue. 

Almost glowing. 

“I found you,” she says again. It’s the only thing you’ve heard from her tonight. 

She's reaching up, brushing her fingers against your neck, your face. Only then do you notice how unkept she looks. Her hair is brittle and messy. Her clothes are faded and worn. You see dirt underneath her nails and neck and clothes, like she crawled out of the Earth herself. 

“I found you.” She repeats. 

Your name being called snaps you out of your trance. 

Your mother stares at you with furrowed brows. 

“What are you doing?” She chastises. “Get inside. It’s cold.” 

“But–” When you turn back, Toru’s gone. 

You’re alone, standing out in the middle of the road. The air is colder now. 

“Are you okay?” She wonders when you stumble back inside. 

You try to smile but it comes out stiff. The more you thought about it, the less reasonable it seemed. Satoru would not trek miles and miles on foot to your house. She wouldn’t roam the streets caked in dirt. 

Maybe mom was right. You were getting so worked up you were starting to lose your mind. 

“It’s nothing,” you say. “Nothing.” 

~

You liked Shinichi. 

He moved to your town a few years ago, back in sophomore year. The crush started when you two were paired as biology partners last year. You think it might be mutual. Sometimes his hand lingers on yours for a little too long when you hand him a pen. You noticed he watches your lips when you’re talking. 

For whatever reason, you never told anyone about your crush–not even Toru. 

“Did she really?” Shoko cocks her head. “I don’t believe you.” 

“She did.” Suguru insists, coiling up her hair in that signature bun. “How could you not believe me? I’m so hurt.” 

“‘cause you’re a liar.” Shoko responds. 

Suguru laughs. Or maybe she doesn’t. You weren’t paying attention. Despite the girls hanging beside your locker, you were still nose deep into your notes. Your anatomy test was happening next period and you had an awful feeling you were going to fail. 

You were barely past the mandible before your notebook was ripped away from you. 

“Hey—“ Your voice dies in your throat. 

Satoru grins. 

“Missed me?” She teases. 

You can only watch as the rest of your group crowds around her immediately. Shoko and Suguru ask where she went, eager for answers. 

A last minute ski trip. 

“Sorry I went AWOL like that.” She shrugs. “There’s bad reception over there.” 

They both buy it. Shoko demands pictures. Suguru prods about the mountains and slopes. Satoru eagerly shows the girls the pictures she took along the Swiss Alps. 

You can only stare. 

She looks like the same Satoru you’ve known for years. Her smile is just as playful. Her eyes are the brilliant blue you’ve come to admire. Her ivory hair is long and pin straight (‘which I could never do anything with’ she always complained). Her hands are unblemished and dirt-free. 

You still can’t get that sight out of your mind: her cracked nails caked in mud. 

She catches you staring, finally drawing her attention back on you. 

“What?” She prods. 

“You never texted me about that.” You blurt out. 

She rolls her eyes. “Must’ve forgotten. I don’t gotta tell you everything I do. Stop worrying so much.” 

She reaches out to pinch your cheek. You wince, wondering if she meant to be this rough. 

“Right,” you say when you brush her hands off of you. Only then do you notice how much taller she is. 

Satoru has always towered over you, but she’s never worn lace-up stilettos. Not ever. 

You trail over her outfit. Her dress is short and tight, trailing right past her hips and barely covering her ass. The sheer stockings do little to cover the fat of her thighs. Her jacket is unzipped, leaving you to see the amount of cleavage she proudly showed. How she didn’t get dress-coded already was beyond you. 

She never dressed like this before. Sure, Satoru had amazing outfits, but she was never this daring. She preferred more conservative clothes: longer skirts, shirts with higher scoops, hoodies that hid her shape. 

You can smell her perfume. It’s different. Bolder, compared to the light floral stuff she used to wear. It’s smokier. You feel like you’re standing next to a blooming fireplace.

Shoko and Suguru have hoarded Satoru’s phone, chattering over her trip. You hear the slam of locker doors all around you as the bell rings for the first period. You have a test soon, but you can hardly bring yourself to look away from how different she looks. 

Uncanny might be a better word. 

You think about the Satoru you saw last night, the one with empty eyes and cracked nails. You want to reach out and ask her, but she’s already slipping away to class.

“Fuck, I gotta’ go.” She sighs. “See ya at lunch. Don’t stress too hard about that anatomy test.” She tells you. “You’ll get wrinkles.” 

You manage a weak smile at her joke. When she blows you a kiss, you half-heartedly wave back. 

You were freaking out over nothing. The Satoru you saw last night was part of some stress-induced hallucination. And today, Satoru is trying out a new look. She doesn’t have to tell you everything she does. You needed to stop being so paranoid. 

School drags on hour by hour. Lunch is just like before. By the time the last bell rings, you’ve almost forgotten all about it. 

Usually, Satoru drives you home. She’d sit by the curb, honking if you don’t get in fast enough. She was dramatic like that, but you liked that side of her. The fun side. 

Today,  there’s no black Maserati waiting for you. You glance around the parking lot, wondering if maybe Satoru’s running late. 

You spot ivory white hair blow in the wind.

You watch as she continues to hold Shinichi’s hand, dragging him along. She glances back to say something to him. You can see him throw his head up and laugh. 

Something boils on your face. You can’t look away as Shinichi gets into the passenger seat of the car. Satoru follows right after. Tinted windows conceal their faces. 

Just for a moment, you swore she turned back to see if you were watching. 

~

You had that dream again. 

You were at the bottom of a lake, watching the bubbles rise up to the surface. A soaked letter floats next to you. Tiny hands reached in to pull you out–

You wake up in a pool of sweat. Your breaths are heavy. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out again. 

The ceiling fan gently whirs above you. It felt nice on your heated skin. You kick the thick blankets off, letting your bare skin cool down. 

After a few minutes, it becomes apparent you won’t get any sleep tonight. You rise from your bed, cringing at the stickiness of your skin. It was like you woke up from a nightmare. 

Well, it was more like reliving the memory of a near-death experience. 

You stretch, pushing your arms up and out. Your bones crack at the release of pressure. Still sitting on your bed, you reach over for your phone. It’s nearly four. You’d have to get ready for school in three hours. There was no point in going back to sleep. 

Maybe it was because you were still-half asleep, and now your brain-fog is gone. Maybe the fan was obscuring it, spinning noisily above you. 

But you swear you could hear breathing. 

Loud. Deep. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out again. 

For a moment you thought it was your own, maybe you hadn’t calmed down all the way. But you could still hear your breaths. Quieter–slower than whatever this was. 

Vents, you tell yourself. The A.C was acting up. You try to ignore the chills that run up and down your back. Goosebumps rose along your arms and shoulders. The air felt colder. 

With your tank top and your shorts, you felt so naked. Almost like you were being watched. The only thing rivaling the sounds you keep hearing is your loud heartbeat. Blood rushes through your ears.

There’s a hint of a footstep. On the other side of your bed, there’s a creak. 

You lean over to flick on the lamp. 

Light engulfs the shadows. You can see your four walls. The ceiling. The fan. The trinkets you gathered for years sitting nicely on your shelves. 

You’re alone. 

You wait again, listening. There’s no breathing. Of course you didn’t hear anything. You must have imagined it. You were still so strung up from your nightmare. 

You fully roll out of bed, deciding to get ready for school a little early. Maybe you can get a little homework done too before class starts. 

It’s another remnant of your night terror. You ignore it as you trek into the bathroom. 

For a moment, you thought you could smell a bonfire 

~

“Did you two fight?” Suguru suddenly asks. 

You barely glance up at her from your phone. 

“What?” 

“You and Satoru,” she presses. “You two fight?” 

“And who won?” Shoko chimes in. 

You roll your eyes. “We didn’t fight.” 

“Then why is she ignoring you?” Shoko prods. When your gaze lingers on your phone for too long, she plucks it out of your grasp. 

You glance over to the other side of the cafeteria. Satoru was crowded around the other girls in the color guard. They seemed to be having a lively conversation. You glanced back at Suguru and Shoko, who were coming up with their own analysis. 

“She’s usually so obsessed with you too.” Shoko thinks out loud. “Pretty sure this is the only conversation I’ve had with you where she hasn’t butt in.” 

You stare at her, unimpressed. 

“What are you talking about?” 

They exchange glances. 

“You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed it, right?” Suguru asks. When you continue to give a blank stare, she sighs. 

“She’s constantly walking you to and from class. You’re one of the only people allowed in her car. Ninety percent of her conversations revolve around you too. She shares food with you, even when she’s so possessive over her snacks.” 

“Not to mention you’re the only one who’s allowed to call her ‘Toru.” Shoko gives. 

“It’s a childhood nickname.” You mutter. 

“Oh! Maybe it’s from the time she saved you from that lake.” Shoko wonders out loud. “After that day, her brain forced her to think of you as some helpless animal who needs to be protected all the time.” 

“Oh, like conditioning?” Suguru prods. 

“Yeah, exactly.” 

Maybe if you ignore them and their stupid theories, they’ll finally leave you alone. 

Suguru leans over your shoulder, pressing herself into your space until you can’t ignore her anymore. She grins when your scowl grows deeper. She’s so much like Satoru it actually enrages you. Maybe that’s why they were such good friends. 

“So, did you two fight?” She urges. 

“No.” You stress. “We didn’t.” 

You would have to talk to fight. 

Since the day she got back, you hadn’t spoken to Satoru. You never called or texted, you barely even looked at her. She did the exact same. It was like you two were never even friends in the first place. Acquaintances. Strangers that shared the same space. 

You’d be lying if a part of you wasn’t mad at her. She left for days with no texts or calls. You were worried sick about her and yet she comes back perfectly fine. It was like she didn’t even care about your feelings or worries. How could she do that to you? It was so shitty. 

You still think about her and Shinichi getting into her car and driving off. You don’t think you were too mad about the Shinichi part. You liked him, but it was barely a crush. Him seeing someone would be like someone stealing the last piece of pie before you could. Disappointing, but easily forgettable. 

It was the fact that she almost seemed to know how you felt about him that irked you. The way you were sure she glanced back at you to see if you were watching before they drove off. 

It felt…mean. Unwarranted. 

Still, that wasn’t the biggest issue you had with her. 

“Doesn’t she feel a little strange to you?” 

Both girls look at you. It’s the same look a parent would give to a child when they’re rambling about Santa Claus. You feel yourself heat up. 

“What do you mean?” Shoko asks. 

What could you say? What would you look like if you started bitching about how strange her new wardrobe looked? Who cared if you pointed out her new heels? The smell of smoky fire never left you.

You knew Satoru. She constantly moved from one thing onto the next. When has she ever stuck to something? Why was this so different? 

You give a helpless shrug. “She’s just…” You trailed off. “Strange.” 

Shoko leans in closer.

“Do you think she’s pregnant?” 

You gape at her. “What? No!” You squeeze your eyes shut. Forget it, you were just seeing things again. “Never mind.” 

Suguru laughs. She leans the rest of her weight on you. 

“You’re so paranoid. It’s actually a little cute.” 

You’re about to respond, but something prickles over your skin, ever so slightly digging in. 

That oppressive weight remains all throughout the rest of the day. You don’t understand it until the school administration hastily calls for a last minute-assembly. 

It was just before the end of 8th period. You weren’t too upset,  preferring to sit in the gym bleachers than physics. The entire student body shifted and murmured all around you. The principal stands in the center. He transfers his weight from one foot to another. His expression matches the one you saw on teachers and a few of the students too. Those people are a lot quieter today. 

The microphone squeals in his grasp. He clears his throat. 

Inu Shinichi, a senior in high-school. 

Dead at the young age of 18. 

Immediately the crowd erupts. People start asking questions all at once. You can hear the confused clamours of students all around you as staff tries to assuage the panic. 

The noise, the voices are all too much to keep track of. In the background, you can hear the principal try to continue. It was an unfortunate accident with a wild animal. Police think there might be a bear in the area. Everyone is highly encouraged to stay away from the woods. His words seep in and out of your ear. 

You feel that prickling sensation again. You search through the crowd, eyeing the rows of frantic students. 

Toru stares right back. 

~

Eventually, the school releases you. 

People are encouraged to pair up in groups if they are walking home. Suguru had a club meeting that ran late. Shoko went home early. In the end, you were forced to walk home alone. 

It’s not as scary as people thought. Besides, it gives you time to think. 

Mostly, you thought about Shinichi. 

You saw him just yesterday. He was smiling, maybe even laughing. And now, he was gone. 

You were probably one of the last people to see him alive. 

You and–

A loud honk disrupts your thoughts. You whirl your head to the side. 

Her window is down. Her head is leaned against the wheel. There’s a sly smile on pretty pink lips. 

“Tryna’ ditch me?” She teases. “Get in.” 

You blink at her. 

“No,” you eventually say. It sounded snappier than you liked. “I’m fine, thanks.” 

She says nothing to that. You keep walking. You expected her to whine, inch her car forward as she demands you to get in. She’s always been a brat, it’s not like her to give up so easily. 

There's a yank on your back. You stumble, feeling your backpack slip from your arms. When you glance behind you, Satoru’s already shoving your bag into the back of her car. She shuts her trunk with a victorious grin. 

“If you want it back, you’re gonna have to work for it.” She tells you, before climbing back into her seat. 

Like you could ever win against her. Feeling your mood sour by the minute, you slipped into the passenger seat. Satoru doesn't wait for you to buckle yourself in before driving off. 

The two of you sit in silence for two minutes. Eventually, Satoru breaks it. 

“So?” 

“So?” You repeat. 

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re so pissy lately or will I have to needle it out of you?” 

You stare out the window. “I’m not pissy.” 

“That.” She tells you. “That’s pissy.” 

“I’m not–” You swallow. 

You peel your eyes from the window, daring to glance her way. Her shirt is low enough for you to see a hint of cleavage. Her makeup is bold: deep red lipstick and dark eyeshadow. Her skirt keeps riding up, letting you see creamy thighs. 

It’s not like her at all. 

“Did something happen?” You finally ask. “On the trip.” 

“What do you mean?” 

You can’t help it. It comes out all at once. 

“What I mean is that you disappeared for days. You refused to call or text or anything. And now you’re back like nothing happened, and I’m supposed to believe you went on a ski trip?” 

She waits for a minute. Maybe two. 

“Oh,” she says. “You missed me.” 

You’d yank her hair if your life wasn’t in her hands right now. 

“You get so cute when you get all worried.” She gushes and you frown even deeper. “Don’t worry, I missed you too!”

She giggles and you feel your face heat up, but you’re not too upset at her teases. It reminds you of what you two used to be like. 

“Of course I was worried for you, idiot,” you say. She was your best friend, after all. 

She laughs again, before it dies down. 

“You’re right,” she finally says. “I didn’t exactly go on a ski trip.” 

You glance over. She’s still smiling but it’s strangely shadowed somehow. 

“Oh,” you respond. “So…where did you go, then?” 

She taps dainty painted nails on the steering wheel. You like the color. A glistening red.

“My folks took me to some last-minute family thing,” she says. “They called it tradition-” She rolls her eyes “-a bunch of bullshit really.” 

You nod, not wanting to prod further. You knew Satoru’s family. They considered family and the clan to be extremely sacred. Obviously, they’d have some weird customs they’d force Satoru into. You also got the feeling they were elitist and maybe sexist. Despite the financial freedom Satoru got, it always felt like it came with strings attached. Good grades, perfect attendance, a compliant demeanor. Absolute perfection. The tension between her and her folks was ice-cold. She was constantly at odds with them. 

You take a peek at her outfit again. You may not know them intimately, but the Gojo family would definitely not approve of her outfit. Especially the matriarch. 

You’ve only met Satoru’s grandmother a few times, but it didn’t take you that long to realize she didn’t like you. Her blue eyes were always tainted with disdain whenever she looked down at you. It was a bit insulting, honestly. Apart from her, you were actually great with the elderly. She was a stain on your perfect people skills record. 

“Satisfied?” She asks. You can hear her smile. “Are you still angry I ghosted you?” 

“I wasn't angry.” You tell her, and now your irritation feels silly. “I was just thinking.” 

“About?” 

You make sure to keep your eyes on her, wanting to watch every micro expression as you speak. 

“Shinichi.” 

She didn’t stop smiling. She didn’t even blink. 

“I was just really surprised about what happened to him,” you continue. “I knew him. Just…one second he was in class, the next–” Dead. Gone. Devoured. 

Satoru hums. “Yeah, I heard it was a bunch of coyotes. They just tore him up until there was nothing left.” 

You almost take a moment to comprehend her casualness. She spoke like she was talking about the weather, not a gruesome death. 

“Yeah…” You trail off. “It was horrible.” 

“I–I still can’t believe someone I knew died like that,” you say. “And it was Shinichi. How is that even–” 

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice is sharp. It startles you. 

Her smile is gone. A thin line replaced it. Her grip on the steering wheel is tight enough to make her knuckles grow white. 

“Let’s stop talking about him” 

You wanted to ask about it right there. The words were on the tip of your tongue. She was the last person who saw Shinichi alive. It was a morbid curiosity to ask what he was like just before he fell off the world. 

“Okay,” you say instead. 

Despite ordering you to stop, Satoru didn’t seem too keen on following. 

“You liked him, right?” She presses. 

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. Satoru takes it as her answer. 

“I just don’t see what you saw in the guy,” she continues. “So…bleh, y’know?” 

“We shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.” 

“I’m just saying,” she argues. “You deserve someone way better. Trust me, that guy was not good news.” 

You think of the heat in your stomach when Satoru led Shinichi to her car. The tight grip she held onto his hand. Envy. God, it all felt so silly all of a sudden. 

“Do you like him more than you like me?” She suddenly asks. 

You burst into laughter.

It was just like her, to constantly ask for scraps of attention and approval. She strove to be the best in her academics. She wanted to be number one in her sports team. Why would competition for her best friend be any different? 

“What’s so funny?” She demands as your laugh dies down. You shake your head. 

“I don’t like you, I love you.” You ease into your seat. Your heart feels full. You’re happy.

You two were back. 

She’s smiling. It’s goofier, and a bit smug. You missed that smile of hers. 

You missed her. 

For the first time in a week, you two finally have a real conversation. Satoru shit-talks the girls in her color guard team, as always. You chide her for being too strict on them. You complain about teachers and pop-quizzes. Satoru shows you a band she’s been listening to. 

You almost don’t want to get out of the car by the time she pulls out on your street. 

“Wanna come in?” You ask. “My mom would love to see you.” 

“I got something I gotta do.” She waves you off. “But I’ll text you later.” 

You hum, stepping out of the car and grabbing your bag. 

Her hand latches onto your wrist. 

When you glance back, her eyes have soured. Warm oceans turned into cool ice. 

“You do like me, right?” She presses. “More than anyone?” 

You smile, confused. 

“I kind of have to.” You respond with a laugh. “We’re best friends, right?” 

You expect her to smile back. She doesn’t. 

Her nails dig into your skin ever so slightly. 

“Yeah.” She pulls away. “Besties.” 

You can’t name her tone, but the firm line on her lips remains. It’s like she’s retreated back into her head, obscuring herself from your view. 

That prickling sensation is back again. It crawls up your back, latching at the sides of your neck. It only stops when you shut the door behind you, blocking yourself from her vision. 

The scent of smoke fades and you finally feel yourself breathe again. 

~

Now thinking about it, you could name the exact day the Gojo matriarch stopped liking you. 

Truthfully, she never actually liked you. A mild tolerance, maybe.

Clearly, she was the type of person who believed that those of higher class should mingle with each other. When her granddaughter started bringing home a child who’s parents were middle class at best, she wasn’t pleased. Still, she never outright chastised Satoru. Again, it was a mild tolerance. You were a blip on her radar.

You became friends with Satoru in the first week of second grade. It was less of a meeting, more of a kid latching onto your arm and immediately declaring you as ‘hers’. You don’t remember having an issue with the possession. You liked being Satoru’s friend. She let you braid her long wispy hair. 

Satoru soon became Toru, and you quickly found yourself inseparable from each other. 

Teachers found it adorable how much Toru clung onto you. You two were always found together, always paired up for projects and assignments. Sometimes, when she’s riled up enough, she’d suddenly declare how she’ll marry you. The surrounding adults got a kick out of that.

Peas in a pod. Two halves of a whole. 

The real issue started when Toru began bringing you home. 

You’ve never been in a house so large. You were scared you might get lost, so you’d hold onto Toru’s hand even tighter as she gleefully led you through her maze of a home. Up winding staircases. Past doors and doors. 

You two would mostly stay in her room. You’d play with her grand dollhouse, dress up in her fancy clothes, have pretend tea parties and horribly tried to replicate royalty. It was stupid. It was childish. It was fun. 

Even back then, you knew Satoru didn’t have a lot of fun within her cold, empty home. 

Once, and only once, she took you into the backyard. 

It wasn’t a backyard. It was more of a botanical garden. There were pretty flowers of all colors. The grass was neat and pristine. You’d never seen any place more beautiful in your life. 

“This.” She told you when she led you through a patch of chids. “This is where we’ll get married.” 

“It’s so pretty.” You gushed, plucking at a dahlia. “Can we invite our teacher to the wedding?” 

“Yes!” She declares. “Everyone will come! I’ll be the bride, and you can be the groom. I wanna wear a pretty dress.” 

Your lips sour into a frown. “I don’t wanna be a groom.” You complain. “I wanna wear a pretty dress too.” 

Even from a young age, she hated seeing you unhappy. “We can both wear pretty dresses.” She decides.

You giggle and she holds your hand even tighter. 

It’s barely a kiss. It’s a soft peck, a light brush of her lips against yours. When she pulls away, her ocean ocean eyes bloom just as fiercely as the cherry red across her cheeks. 

“What was that?” You wonder. 

“It’s what two people who want to get married do.” She tells you. For once, her voice is quiet. “Now, we’ll be together forever.” 

You two were seven years old: too young to realize what it meant, too innocent to understand the danger of a small town with backwards customs. 

The Gojo matriarch was not. 

She grabs Toru’s arm before you could blink. Her grip on the younger Gojo is rough and violent as she drags your friend back into the house. 

A short while later, a servant politely tells you that your parents are waiting for you at the front. You go home in silence.

You only see Satoru the next day at school. There’s a large bruise on her cheek. The teachers, pockets filled with Gojo’s money, ignore her. 

When she sees you, she smiles. 

It’s not as bright as it used to be. 

~

As much as you try to avoid it, it forces you to notice it eventually. 

It was the weekend. Satoru had dragged you out to the city. She parked her car somewhere in a crowded garage, forcing you to walk through dirty streets and busy roads. 

Another shopping spree. So far, you've picked up some shorts and a velvet top. She, on the other hand, had about two bags per arm filled with skirts, dresses, crop tops. Designer. Expensive. Heavy. You had no idea how she was able to carry them all. 

“Toru,” you call as she hurries on in front of you. “It’s getting late. We should head back.” 

It was already dusk. The sky was filled with purples and pinks. The shadows grew longer and longer. You wanted to be back by the car before night came. 

Satoru didn’t share the sentiment. She carried onward, the bags shuffling at her sides. 

“Just a few more minutes,” she insists. “The store I was talking about is right around the corner, I’m pretty sure.” 

You sigh, but you have no choice but to follow. As much as you loved her, she was way too overzealous for you sometimes. Constantly hyper-fixating on one thing or another, and tugging you along for the ride. 

Despite it all, you shuffle towards her when you see a dark figure in a hoodie. Just from the way he stands, you could already tell what he was planning on doing. 

“Nice legs.” He whistles at Satoru right as she passes him. 

She barely spares him a glance, flipping him off. 

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath. You curl your lips in disgust. 

You stared for too long. He catches your eyes.

A nasty smirk crawls along his haggard face. 

“What about you, gorgeous?” He prods. “Wanna have a good time?” 

It happened in a flash. 

One moment, Toru was next to you on the sidewalk. 

The next, she was grabbing the man by the throat, pinning him against the building. 

With a single manicured hand, she hoisted him up until his feet dangled, crushing his windpipe. He choked, immediately grabbing onto her wrists, trying to wrench her off of him. She barely even flinched, continuing to keep him up there with a strength you’ve never seen from her before. 

It was inhuman. 

You only move when it sounds like he’s dying. 

You pull on her hand. Nothing. 

“Toru,” you say in urgency. “Let go of him. It’s fine.” 

She barely even twitches. The look on her face is unsettling. No scowl. No smile. Her features were completely blank. 

Like she was staring at nothing. 

You yank harder on her wrist. You squeeze. 

“Toru, please.” You beg. 

She takes a moment, but eventually, she drops him just when he’s about to pass out. 

He falls to the floor, holding his throat. Already a dark ring is starting to show on his skin. 

You expect him to yell and scream. There’s nothing. He just staggers off, trying to get as far away as he can. 

Relieved, he didn’t make a scene, you turn back to Satoru. 

She had yet to move. 

“Hey.” You shove at her. “What was that? Where did you learn to do that?” 

Nothing. You give up trying to get anything out of her. Something on the ground catches your eye. 

The shopping bags. She must have dropped them when the skirmish happened. You go to pick them up. 

There’s a hand on your chest, forcing you against the wall. Immediately, she presses up against you, caging you in. You don’t move. You can’t. You just stare forward, right at her neck as her throat bobs up and down. The smell of the campfire is back again. Flickering and burning. 

There’s a hand at your waist, keeping you in place. You press your fingers against the wall. 

“Toru?” You weakly ask. 

There’s a sharp inhale above you. 

And then she’s gone. 

By the time you blink, she’s already picked up her bags, continuing her way along the sidewalk. 

After a second, you’re bounding after her. 

Your mouth opens and closes as you stare at her back. What the fuck was that? You wanted to ask so badly. 

“I think we might’ve missed it.” She suddenly says. 

“What?” You say dumbly. 

“The store.” She glances back at you with a ‘duh’ look. “I think it might’ve been on the next corner.” 

“Oh,” you say, voice vacant. “Toru?” 

“Hm?” 

Your mouth closes into a sharp line. 

“It’s nothing.” 

~

For the first time in a while, Satoru comes over for a sleepover. 

Your parents were ecstatic. Dinner was served with hot homemade food and extra hospitality. Your mother was delighted that her “second daughter” came to visit. She offered Satoru, seconds and thirds. You were starting to acknowledge that Satoru might be your parent’s favorite child. 

“Your parents are always so sweet.” Toru tells you. 

You sit on the blankets, still scrolling on your phone. She’s already underneath the covers, peering up at you. She smells like your soap and shampoo, dressed in your clothes because she always manages to ‘forget’ to bring her own. 

“Pretty sure my mom loves you more than she loves me.” You mutter. “Trust me, you’re the favorite.” 

Your words sound bitter, even when you truly aren’t. Your parents know better than anyone how neglected Toru is in her home. Being showered in money and luxury could never replace parental affection. 

She laughs, curling up in your pillows. 

“I missed this place.” She murmurs into your pillows. You know she’s annoying you on purpose when she buries her head into the pillows, taking a deep breath. 

“If you keep being creepy, I’m kicking you out,” you tell her pointedly. 

She pouts, arching her pretty lips into a frown. “You’re a meanie.” 

You scrunch your nose when the smell of incense wafts into the room. 

“And why are you wearing perfume?” you chide, “we’re supposed to be sleeping.” 

“I’m not wearing perfume.” She tilts her head. 

Was she telling you that was just her natural scent? You doubt it, but you don’t bother arguing. Besides, she’s already starting to whine. 

“And we can’t sleep now!” she argues, “we never hang out these days. We should do something.” 

“Are you not exhausted?” You two had been running around all day: spa day, manicures, shopping trips. How was she not tired? 

She shakes her head, rocking back and forth from her spot on the bed. 

“C’mon!” she urges. “Let’s watch a movie or something. A horror movie.” 

“You watch,” you tell her, crawling underneath the blankets. “I’ll sleep.” 

She frowns and if she was the Satoru before, she’d be whining more. The Satoru tonight pouts as you lift the blankets. 

You stare down at her pretty blue eyes. Pink lips. Long lashes. Her nails are a different color today. Black. 

“Yeah.” You finally say. “You are different.” 

“Hm?” She peers up at you. 

“I don’t know how else to say it,” you confess, “but you’re…brighter somehow.” 

You can see it in her eyes. Lighter. Less cloudy. The sky on a bright summer day. You haven’t seen her like this since she was a kid. 

Like she was free. 

Toru takes interest in this. She props her head up, eyes lingering on you. 

“Am I?” she wonders. 

You nod. 

“It’s nice,” you tell her, “you used to act like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders and now…” 

Before, she still laughed, still joked around, but it all felt controlled. You always thought of it as strings digging into the skin of her arms and legs. She was a puppet hung on nylon thread. They yanked her back every time she said the wrong line. 

“Yeah, I can feel it too,” she tells you, “I think I’ve just realized that I can do whatever I want.” 

Her fingers gently crest on the skin of your arm. 

“I can have whatever I want.” 

You catch the stress in her words. 

“Is there something you want?” Something Satoru wants? For a girl who has everything, you can hardly comprehend her having a desire for anything. 

“Yeah.” 

The air stops. The room grows dark. For a moment, you feel as though you and Satoru are the only two people left in the world. 

She’s closer now. You hadn’t noticed she moved. Her breaths match yours.

 In. Out. In. Out. In. Out again.  

“Something I’ve wanted for a really long time.” 

Blue fills your vision. The walls are closing in. Lips draw closer to your cheek. 

 “I think I’m finally gonna have it.” 

Her head suddenly slumps down onto your shoulder. Soft white hair tickles your neck. 

“Your mom’s fluffy pancakes,” her whine is muffled by your shirt, “can you please ask her to make them tomorrow?” 

You’re laughing out of relief. You push her away from you, urging her to lie on the pillows. 

“Only if you sleep now,” you say. 

She grumbles something, but she doesn’t argue after that. It’s quiet after you shut off the lamp. 

The next morning, Toru gets her wish. She eagerly chomps down on your mom’s cooking, while your parents gush at how well she eats. You were chiding at how messy she was, urging her to add less maple syrup. 

It’s still in the back of your head all morning. It lingers when Satoru leaves your house. It stays until days later. 

Eventually, you tell yourself that you were flustered. Of course you were flustered. You hadn’t expected Satoru to get so close like that. She was always clingy, but this was the first time she was this daring. It was just playful, you don’t need to over analyze yourself. 

And yet you can’t help but remember the shiver down your back. You remembered the way you could hear your heartbeat throughout the night. 

It almost felt like fear. 

~

(It was some type of field trip. 

The last day of third grade. The teachers wanted each student to have one last fun day before school broke out for summer break. Over 90 kids were released to run around the local park. Most children gravitated towards the lake, entranced by fishes and ducks. 

You and Toru wander toward the other side of the lake, straying from the teacher’s eyes. 

It was your idea. You’d been giddy all morning, barely able to contain the secret. You wanted to wait until you and Toru were alone before you showed it to her. 

She was equally excited, following obediently as you led her along the shore. Dragonflies soared across the lake’s surface. Frogs dove under lilypads. If you weren’t so distracted, you might’ve been tempted to catch one of them. 

Today, you had a mission. 

“Look!” You tell her eagerly. The envelope in your hand laid crinkled. You weren’t kind to it, opting to stuff it in your pocket for safe-keeping. Stubby hands carefully unfold the paper. 

“What is it?” She curiously asks. She recognizes the name scrawled in bright green crayon. It was that kid with thick-rimmed glasses. Toru often saw him doodling wobbly monsters on his papers. 

You give a coy smile. 

“It’s a love letter.” 

You keep on rambling, too engrossed in your own story to notice the way Toru’s breath hitched, the way she froze. You talk about how he stopped you just before class started. His hands shook. His voice wobbled. Cherry red plastered across his cheeks as he shyly murmured, ‘I like you’–

At first, you thought you fell. 

You sank further down. Your ears filled with water as your clothes softly swished in the current. Panic was slow to catch up. At first, you thought about how angry your parents would be when they found out you drenched your clothes in pond water. 

The water wasn’t deep. A little more than one foot. You could easily wade out. 

Tiny hands break the surface, reaching out for you. Toru’s hands. You instinctively reach out so she could pull you out. 

Her hands reach past yours, right at your neck, and you’re pushed further underwater. 

Panic kicks in then. You flail your arms. Your feet. Adrenaline claws at your veins even when there’s nowhere for it to go. Your lungs are screaming for air but all you can do is look up at the blurry image of your friend because she’s killing you, she’s killing you, she’s killing you.

Just when spots cloud your vision, something gives. You’re hauled up from the surface and dropped onto the banks. Sunlight heats your soaked skin. Your drenched clothes cling onto your arms and legs. You’re coughing up water and sobbing. You still can’t understand what happened. 

Satoru is silent. Through your tears you can still see her. Her clothes are also wet but it doesn’t look like she cares. You’re barely able to control your shuddering breaths when she speaks. 

“He can’t have you.” 

Her voice is devoid of that childish lilt. It’s smooth and calm. 

You look up at her. 

Her face is blank, but her eyes are filled with so much venom…

“He can’t have you. Nobody can have you. You’re mine.” 

…you feel like you’re staring at a monster, rather than a child. 

People catch on eventually. Adults and other kids crowd around your soaked body. There are worried shouts of ‘What happened?’ while teachers gently urged you to calm down. 

“She fell.” Toru spoke up. Her original voice is back, filled with childish innocence that now sounds as fake as candy. 

Someone is urging you to your feet. Another is urging you to breathe. All you can see is how the teachers and students gather around Satoru, praising her for saving your life. 

She meets your gaze then. 

She’s smiling.)

When you wake up, your breaths are just as ragged as that day from the lake. 

You kick off the blankets, uncaring if they fell off the mattress. The carpet is soft under your feet as you make your way into the bathroom. You flick on the lights, knowing what you’ll see but still uncertain. 

Your skin is shiny and dull. The circles underneath your eyes are darker. Makes sense. You haven’t gotten a lot of sleep lately. 

It was the first time you ever truly completed that dream. 

No, not a dream. Not a nightmare. A memory. 

You must’ve repressed it for years, forcing it to sink down and down. 

You think of Satoru’s eyes back then. They were just as bright as the ones Satoru has now. 

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe Satoru was always like this. 

Until now, she just hid it better. 

The memory of the lake, that cursed letter, still plays in the back of your eyes. 

You take a deep breath, and you drown it.

~

You hadn’t visited the Gojo household in a while. 

Satoru doesn’t invite you too often. You understand why. She prefers your house over yours. You share her thoughts. Her house always felt cold and empty. Despite the multitude of servants and housekeepers hired to keep the house running, it always felt lifeless. 

Tonight, that feeling only got worse. 

Your mom dropped you off minutes ago, but you still hesitate to go in. The house looks darker, somehow. Maybe you hadn’t been here in a while, but it felt so different. 

You linger around the mansion. A ding from your phone indicates your time is up. It’s from Toru. 

‘Door’s unlocked.’ 

Large, mahogany doors groan as you push them open. The interior isn’t so much different compared to the exterior. The house looks just as abandoned from the inside. There’s barely enough light to see. Apart from the windows casting in sunlight, there’s not much else. There’s dust on the floor, in the air, on the windows. 

It’s such a stark contrast to house strict the gojo household was typically maintained. Earlier it looked well-kept but empty. Now, it just looks…empty. 

“Boo.” 

You scream. 

Satoru laughs. 

“I really hate you,” you tell her once you’ve calmed down, “you know that, right?” 

“I know,” she cheerily tells you. 

She leads you through the house. You follow close behind. 

“So, where is everyone?” You finally ask. You don’t usually see Toru’s family members during your visits, but you always see attendants and servants around. 

Right now, it just feels like it’s just you and Toru. 

“My folks went to some gala thing.” She tells you, walking ahead. You can’t see her face. 

“Right.” You nod. “But what about the others?” 

She hums. 

“No idea,” she says, “they just stopped coming around. ‘Must’ve gotten fired.” 

You don’t know what to say to that, so you say nothing. Satoru is more than happy to change the subject to whoever pissed her off that day. You idly listen as she rants and rants. You don’t mind her griping. It’s a nice distraction from the hollow mansion. 

At least her own room is warm. It’s bright and completely lit up with fairy lights. You sit on the fluffy pink comforter, admiring the posters she put up from her favorite band. She changes her favorites every two weeks. You doubt those faces will be up the next time you visit. 

Toru turns the lights off, taking her own seat next to you. 

“Ready?” She asks, the tone of her voice is mischievous. 

You settle onto the bed, frowning. 

“Let’s just get this over with.” 

After days of begging, Satoru finally convinced you to watch a horror movie with her. You were never a fan of scares. Up until recently, neither was Toru. 

“When did you suddenly get into the genre?” You prod. “You used to be scared of Goosebumps.” 

“The summer camp one is really scary,” she argues. “Also, aren’t people allowed to change?” 

Yeah. 

She’s done a lot of that recently, hasn’t she? 

You don’t respond. Instead, you turn back to the TV screen. 

“So, is it a slasher?” 

“No,” she tells you, fiddling with the remote, “It’s a bad-good horror movie. You’ll like it.” 

She was wrong. It was a lot gorier than you anticipated. The storyline itself was pretty cliche. A family moved into a haunted house, oblivious to the haunted part. Very quickly, things begin to go wrong. All the classic tropes are there: delayed jumpscares, pentagrams in the basement, children crawling up walls. 

“Let’s skip this part.” You tell her when the male lead and female lead inevitably start making out. You immediately sour when the scene stretches on to them taking off their clothes. You never understood why horror movies always focused on these parts. 

Satoru laughs. “What, never seen dick before?” 

When you stay silent, she slowly turns to look at you. 

“Really?” 

“You haven’t either.” You argue. 

“I have, but I didn’t just look.” She tells you with a sly grin. You blink, thinking of the numerous boyfriends she used to parade out in the past.  You never knew she went that far. 

“You’ve never even had your first kiss, have you?” She leans in, clearly delighted at embarrassing you. 

You frown, speaking without really thinking. 

“My first kiss was you, idiot,” you tell her. 

It’s the wrong thing to say. You immediately sense it in the air. There’s a sudden drop in temperature. A chill travels down your spine. 

Satoru opens her lips. A deep breath. 

“Yeah,” she says, voice quiet, “I was your first.” 

You don’t know why she says it like that. It sounds less like a funny memory and more like a claim. Her eyes are wide and unwavering. She leans in closer. You’re stiff. 

“I was always your first.” She’s close enough that you can feel her breath on your cheek. “‘Makes sense I should be your first for this, also.” 

That same feeling is back. You’re a mouse, caught in sticky sap, the more you struggle the more you sink. 

Her hand ever so slightly brushes up against your thigh. 

The jolt is enough to send you careening back. 

“The fuck are you talking about?” You hope your laugh isn’t too forced. “Oh, we forgot the popcorn! Should I go make some?” 

You’re already slipping off the bed. The movie is still playing. There’s the exaggerated sounds of screaming and ghostly moans. You can’t look at Satoru, but you can feel her stare. 

“Sure.” She finally says like nothing just happened. “I’ll pause the movie.” 

“Don’t you dare.” You tell her. 

You finally feel like you can breathe again when you leave the room and start for the kitchen. The chill returns, but you prefer it compared to the suffocation you felt in Satoru’s room. 

Why was she acting like this? You try not to think too hard. She was just joking again. It’s her personality to be clingy. 

But you’ve never seen her act like that before. 

You brush away your thoughts about Toru, for now. When you get to the kitchen, your thoughts are focused on popcorn and nothing else. 

It’s strange being here alone. Usually, there’d be an attendant or two lounging around, waiting on hand and foot. Now, there’s nothing but the chill to keep you company. 

You watch the popcorn rise in the microwave. The loud pop pop pop is a relief to your ears. It’s a nice buffer from the quiet. 

Since you aren’t an animal, you take your time to find a nice glass bowl. You wait until the popcorn is cool enough to pull apart the back. Slowly, you shake until every last kernel is safe in the bowl. 

You’re stalling, but you won’t admit that to yourself. 

Eventually, you have to return. You trudge your feet up back towards Toru’s room. A curtain catches your eye. 

The door to the garden is half-open. 

You hadn’t been to the garden in years. Not since that day. 

You slow your walk just before you pass it. It’s barely lit outside. The flowers still bloom, even when the only light source around is the moon and the dim lanterns. 

You set the bowl by the door.  

Toru wouldn’t notice if you got back a little later, right?

It’s a lot cooler outside. The chill air leaves goosebumps across your skin. The grass is damp beneath your feet. You don’t mind it. The scent of flowers is fresh in your nose. You hadn’t been here in almost a decade. You wondered if anything’s changed. 

Things have. There are more labels now. Beneath every shrub and flower, there’s a tiny sign. Plumbagos, one reads underneath dancing purple flowers. Cosmos, says another. Echinacea, delicate pink petals sing. Lantana, Guara, hibiscus, Aster, Roses. 

You follow the signs deeper and deeper into the garden. You linger around others, breathing in their scents. Some smell sweet, others smell a bit more like citrus. 

And then, there’s suddenly the pungent smell of death. 

It’s such an instant shift you feel your throat close up. For a moment, you get nauseous. What is that smell? Did some type of animal die in the garden? Or maybe it was some type of new soil treatment? Compost? 

You pull out your phone, and flick on the flashlight.

Instantly, you regretted it.

Bodies. A pile of bodies laid right next to the roses. Flies buzzed around decaying flesh. The smell only got worse the more you stared.

Is

The worst part was that you recognised them. You knew their faces. Before, they wouldn’t even glance at you. They used to ignore you. They used to look down at you.

Tonight, the entire Gojo family gazes up at you in frozen horror.

“You aren’t supposed to be here.” 

Your phone drops. You spin around. 

Her face is dull. She’s no longer putting up the faux bright eyes and the artificial smile. 

Maybe she’s realized there’s no point anymore. 

Deep down, you understand what happened. Deep down, you know what’s about to happen. 

Still you blabber. Still you fumble because Toru is your friend. 

“Toru?” You call out, voice weak. “What—what is all this? Did—did you—“

“Go back inside.” 

You shake your head. You feel like you barely have the strength to stand. You can’t stop shaking. It’s not because of the cold. 

“What happened?” You beg. “Just—just tell me what—“

She says your name then. There’s no term of endearment. It’s clinical. Devoid of any feeling. 

“Go back inside.” 

She takes a step forward.

You take a step back. 

She tenses. Her body shifts in a way that can’t be human. 

You run. 

You don’t know where you’re going. The garden is a dead end. You just want to get away from her, away from the flowers, away from that cold mansion, away from the bodies. 

She lets you go for 45 seconds, and then she closes the distance. 

There’s a yank on your shirt, and you’re pulled down into the grass. Your back hits the ground, and she instantly straddles your hips. You shut your eyes as you hear her haggard breathing. It’s not from running. 

She sounds animalistic. Excited. 

“Look at me,” she demands. She pulls back your arms as you pathetically try to hide your face. 

You refuse. You can’t. You’re so scared. You’re close to breaking. You can’t look. 

“Look at me.” 

There’s a squeeze on your wrist, threatening to break. 

Slowly, you pull your arms back. 

You look. 

The gibbous moon illuminates her white flowing hair. Her skin is paler, almost a stark white. She’s grinning. Her teeth are sharp. 

But her eyes are what truly makes you cry. 

Her eyes are so bright and blue. 

They’re glowing. 

She looked just like she did on that chilly October night. When there was dirt underneath fingernails. Bare feet in the ground. 

The smell of bonfires singes your nose. 

“It was you,” your voice shakes as the pieces come together, “you killed Shinichi, just like you…with—with your own family.” 

“They were in the way,” she hisses and you flinch and sob harder, “Don’t you get it? He—They were in the way of everything we should’ve been.” 

She reaches for you. You bat her fingers away. Weak, barely enough to do any real damage. 

She leans down. There’s a sharp inhale as she leans into your neck. 

“Stop it!” You thrash in her hold. “Stop talking like her—stop looking like her. You’re not her. You’re not Toru.” 

“I am her.” She growls into your skin. “I’m better than her. I’m doing the shit she never had the balls to do.”

You’re shaking your head. 

“You wanna know the truth?” She asks, shaking your shoulders. “Where did I disappear to for days? I was out here, getting set on fire by my dearest family.” 

She grits her teeth. “They tied me down, told me it’d fix me, told me that what I felt about you–what I always felt about you– was unnatural. Monks were chanting as I screamed and screamed. I thought I was gonna die.” 

You can barely listen. Your hands are on her shoulders, trying to push away, but she’s barely budging. She’s like a wall, unwilling to move, set on keeping you there. 

“And then I woke up.” Her eyes simmer, like she isn’t there anymore. “I was stronger, faster, I wasn’t me anymore…I was more.” 

Your sobs quiet as you stare up at her. 

Hands trace your shoulders, your neck. Manicured fingers swipe across your trembling lips. 

“They tried to take me away from you,” she’s telling you. “Of course I had to get rid of them. All of them. Shinichi too.” 

A wide smile stretches across her face. You’re suddenly eight years old again, held underwater by childish fingers. All you can do is suffocate. Drown. 

“It was the only way to get everyone out of my way,” she whispers. “I’d do it over and over again. No matter what.” 

You didn’t mean it. You were scared. You were pinned down by something that looked like your friend. Something that talked like your friend. Something that acted like your friend. You were scared. It comes out more hateful than you meant. Less fearful.

“You’re a monster.” 

Her face falls. Heartbreak is written all over her face. You think she might cry. 

“I thought you’d get it,” she softly says, sitting back up. “I… I thought you’d understand what I did for both of us…” 

Another tear slips down your cheek. She brushes it away. 

Her bright eyes narrow into slits. 

“It doesn’t matter if you understand or not.” Her voice is harsh, devoid of any softness. “You’re mine, either way.” 

“I just need to get that into your skull.” 

“No,” you beg as claws dig into your skin, your shirt, yanking on your clothes. “Please just–” 

She’s hissing into your neck, as she tears off your shirt with inhuman strength. You’ve only seen glimpses of it before. Now, it shows just as fully as tonight's moon. 

Hands rake over your bra, playing with the strap. 

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” She growls into your ear as she pushes up the cup to fondle your tits. “Do you know how many times I’d lay awake with you next to me?” Her voice is shaky, excited, as she pinches your nipples. You yelp under her touch. A purr rumbles within her throat. 

“You were right there. You were always right there. I just could never touch you–” When you reach out with your own hands to stop her, she shackles both wrists with one hand, keeping them above your head “-until now.” 

Fingers trace down to your stomach. You jerk. 

“Stop–” 

Your voice gets caught in her lips. 

Your second kiss is nothing compared to the first one. There’s no yearning, gentleness care. It’s harsh–filled with sharp teeth, lust, possession. 

She bites down on your lips. You whine against her mouth. 

When she leans back, there’s a trace of blood on her plush lips. Her eyes are at half-mast. It’s like she’s drugged. Drunk off the taste of you. 

“You taste so good.” She sighs. “Even better than I thought you would.” 

You’re dazed from the kiss, your mind struggling to understand how this night turned so wrong. You don’t notice the way her fingers tug on your shorts. Nimble fingers skim past your panties. 

Her forehead presses to yours. Bright blue eyes stare into your own. 

“I love you,” she tells you and you think she believes it, “I love you.” 

You think once she did. Once, her love was gentle and pure as she held your hand as you two squabbled about wedding dresses. 

And maybe she still does. However, it wilted and burned. It was charred from the outside fires, left abandoned. And then it was warped into something sicker, more twisted. 

A kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I love you.” 

Two fingers roughly enter your pussy. 

You gasp. So does she. You realize it the same time she does. 

“You’re so wet,” her voice is quiet in wonder as she continues to push her fingers into your hole. “Fuck.” 

You jerk under her grasp. You hate how well she plays you. The noises that escape your hole are humiliating. A wet squelch every time she forces her fingers back into your warm heat. Your pussy contracts with her movements, like it’s trying to keep her inside. 

You zip your lips shut, forcing yourself to curl into her chest to hide. She’s not kind enough to let you. 

“Stop that,” she chides, nudging you away. “I wanna hear you. Lemme hear how good I’m making you feel.” 

You shake your head in the last form of rebellion you have. As punishment, she shoves her fingers deep enough that it hits something spongy inside of you. You can’t help it. You moan around her fingers. 

“Yeah.” You could hear the grin in her voice. “Just like that.” 

Her thumb presses on your clit as she leans down towards your chest. You shiver as a hot tongue circles your nipple before she envelopes it with her mouth. She suckles and bites, leaving you to squirm and weakly cry out as something coils deep inside you. 

She’s not quiet either. Her gasps and purrs and is muffled by your tits as she lightly circles your skin with her teeth. She curls her fingers inside of you. Your hips snap up. 

You can’t hide it. Satoru knows you too well for you to hide it. She knows when you're about to laugh, when you’re about to smile, when you’re about to cry…when you’re about to break right on her fingers.

She releases your tit with a humiliating ‘pop’. It’s already swollen. 

“Getting close?” She goads when your thighs unwillingly clamp together. 

You don’t respond, doing all that you could not to fall off the edge. Your hips jerk up and down, like you’re trying to ride her. A broken wail stops right at your throat. 

“It’s okay baby, you can do it.” She urges, raking her teeth right on the skin of your neck until you feel the burn. “C’mon baby. Just a little more a little more–” 

You’re screaming as your orgasm picks you up and smashes you onto the ground to splinter apart. It’s the hardest you’ve ever come in your life. Toru works you through it as your pussy milks her fingers. 

She only pulls them out when you go limp. 

Slowly, like she’s savoring the feeling of your battered pussy still clinging onto her. You spasm weakly as she retracts her hand from your underwear. 

Her fingers, covered in your juices, glisten in the moonlight. She eagerly takes them into her mouth, loudly slurping on your essence. 

“Sweet,” she grins. 

There’s a flush to her cheeks. Her eyes no longer glow. It’s like the taste of you made her regain her human facade again. 

You can’t move, not even when she’s done. All you can do is lay there as Satoru clicks her tongue, mumbling something about a mess. She adjusts your clothes, pulling back your shirt, realigning your shorts to preserve what little dignity you have left. She gives a satisfied sigh when she’s done, laying next to you on the grass. 

She moves her head so she can hear your heartbeat. Satoru closes her eyes. 

“Should we go out somewhere tomorrow?” She asks, calm, happy, elated, victorious. 

You think of the bodies lying just on the other side of the garden, rotting away. You think of Shinichi left mangled in the woods. 

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds so far away. “Okay.” 

Your mother often warned you of monsters when you were little. She told you they’d hide under your bed, deep into your closet. They’d steal your shoes and coats, if you weren’t careful. 

She forgot to warn you about the monsters on the bed. The ones you invited into your home. The ones with painted lips and freshly manicured nails. 

You see her. The girl who stayed up with you until 4 am. The girl who helped you with your homework. The girl who stole your pens and pencils, claiming they worked better than her own. The girl who’d never leave your side.

But you also see her. The girl who’s controlling. The girl who constantly manipulates you into doing the things she wants to. The girl who hates seeing you happy if it’s not with her. The girl who nearly killed you over a fucking love letter.

You see someone who’s both a monster and a girl. 

The day you met Max would be forever engrained in your memory. You were in a hurry to meet your friends at a bar and the road was slick with rain. You slipped when your heel got stuck in the trolley tracks and you hit the pavement. In a flash, he was there, and before you realized what was happening, he was lifting you off the pavement with ease. You would never forget the way his eyes shimmered in the streetlights.

Falling in love was never part of the plan. It was just supposed to be fun, with no strings attached. Somehow, you found yourself ensnared by his crooked grin and effortless charm. Those eyes pulled you in; sparking pools of chocolate that pulled you in and refused to let go.

Pushing him away was the hardest thing you’d ever done. He told you he loved you; he all but begged you not to go, but you walked out anyway. You didn’t have a choice. They had given you a death sentence, and you wouldn’t let him watch you slowly slip away. It was better this way, at least that’s what you told yourself, but the ache in your heart reminded you of how much of a lie that was.

Life wasn’t fair. How could the universe be so damn cruel to give you this death sentence after you finally found the love of your life? The two of you were supposed to have years together, maybe even eternity. You wish you could live in blissful ignorance of this disease and believe that you had the best years of your life ahead of you with the man you loved. Now, you had to face your mortality alone.

He never thought he would find love after being turned, but you had wormed your way into his heart without even trying. Your blood called to him like a siren song, your scent like honeysuckle and strawberries. He tried like hell to fight it, but he knew the second he saw you that the two of you were meant for each other.

He knows he shouldn’t be here; you asked him to stay away. He should respect your wishes, but he can’t.

The slight pressure of his knuckles against the door causes it to creak open. His brow furrows: It isn’t like you to leave your door unlocked, let alone open. The soft click of his against the hardwood floor echoes through the empty room. The apartment is too quiet. You always have the television or music on in the background. The little hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He calls out your name once, then twice, and gets no response.

His eyes go wide as he finds you curled up on the bathroom floor. Immediately, he drops to his knees and scoops you into his arms. Your skin is clammy, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Something is wrong, and he’s thankful he showed up when he did.

“Baby…are you okay? What’s wrong?”

It sounded as if he were talking underwater, his voice muffled. You blink a few times, trying to clear your blurry vision before giving up and closing them again. How did he get in here? You thought you locked the door, but you don’t even remember closing it.

“I-I’m fine.”

Like an idiot, you forgot your pills this morning. You thought you’d be home before your headache got too bad. Obviously, you were wrong.

The ringing in your ears is subsiding, the world slowly coming back to you. You push away from Max and rest against the bathroom wall. His pity is the last thing you need.

“You’re not fine.”

Max’s eyes roam over your body and settle on the angry, raised bump on your forehead.

“I said I’m fine.” you snap.

“You’re not fine,” he snaps back. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your head jerks up to look at him. Bile rises in the back of your throat, and you clamp your eyes closed. Maybe your medication hasn’t kicked in yet.

“No.”

“Damn it! Why are you being so stubborn?”

You release a shaky breath. Why couldn’t he just stay away?

“The hospital won’t to help me.”

His fists clench at his sides. Why won’t you just let him help you?

“What? What wouldn’t the hospital be able to help you?”

You swallow hard. The truth was bound to come out eventually and now that he’s seen you like this; you know he won’t stop until you tell him the truth.

“I-I’m dying, Max.”

Your voice echoed off the tiles. That was the first time you said those words out loud. The devastation you felt when you got the diagnosis comes rushing back.

You didn’t think you had any more tears left to cry, but once again, your cheeks were wet. Your tears blurred his beautiful features. You could barely make out his mocha eyes and his pouty lips.

Strong arms wrap around you. His left hand snakes into your hair, cupping the back of your head and cradling you to his chest. He was at a loss for words. He could feel all your pain…all your heartbreak. For the first time since he turned, he felt powerless. He hated the feeling.

“How long?”

His voice was so quiet, you almost didn’t hear him.

“Six months.” you mumble. “But the doctor said there’s no way to know for sure.”

The rage he felt made his fangs itch. He wanted to tear the entire world apart for doing this to you. You were a beautiful, vibrant woman in the prime of her life. You didn’t deserve this.

The silence between you buzzed in your ears. The universe must be punishing you for what you were doing. Maybe God was real, and this was the consequence of dancing with the devil.

Max loosens his grip on you and tucked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Even your tears didn’t dampen how beautiful you looked.

He knew there was something he could do to fix this, but it was the one thing he dreaded most. His eyes bored into yours and his Adam’s apple bobbed. He wouldn’t suggest this if there was any other way.

“I could save you,” he whispers. “I could take this all away.”

Your eyes went wide, knowing exactly what he’s suggesting.

“Are you offering to make me like you?”

The last time you brought it up, he flat out refused. He shut you down without even discussing it. He said he would never hurt you by making you a vampire and made you swear to never bring it up again. You kept that promise.

“Yes.”

The word felt like acid in his throat. He swore he would never turn you into a monster, and now here he was offering to do exactly that.

He had never turned anyone before. He wasn’t even sure exactly how it worked. There was no one he could turn to for help; he’d have to figure it out on his own.

“I thought you didn’t want me to be like you.”

He never wanted this life for you, but things had changed. Losing you wasn’t an option. Keeping you with him was his only priority.

“Things are different now.”

His eyes darkened as he looked at you. Would you be different once you turned? Would his sweet girl disappear? A million other questions ran through his mind, but he couldn’t think about all that now. He had to save you, no matter the cost.

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I know what this will cost you.”

He crushes you against his chest and slants his lips on yours. He kisses you hard, his tongue pushing past your lips to taste you. There’s nothing sweet about what he’s doing; it’s rough and passionate. He pulls back, leaving you panting for air.

“Yes, I do.”

The conviction in that statement made everything real. Your heart pounded in your chest. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? This wasn’t just a little taste, he would have to drink more of your blood than he ever had before. He had always been so careful with you, but would the temptation of be too much for him? The risk you were taking was huge, but then again what was the alternative? Wasting away, becoming weaker until your body finally gave up?

There was no doubt in his mind that he would do whatever it took to keep you. He spent so many years feeling like he didn’t deserve love, and you changed all that. He wasn’t about to let you slip through his fingers.

He kisses you once more. This time, it’s soft and sweet. He gently nibbles on your bottom lip before his tongue slips inside. His tongue languidly explores your mouth for the briefest of moments.

Your mouth chases his as he pulls away, but he stops you by pressing his forehead against yours.

“I love you.”

You feel a rush of air against your face and open your eyes to find he’s already gone.

“I love you, too.”

Max scoured the notes and journals he’d acquired, looking for anything that might help him. There had to be something in these old papers that would help him do this right. The few journal entries about turning a human were vague at best, leaving him with more questions than answers. For the first time in a very long time, he wished his maker were here so he could tell him what to do. This had to work; the alternative was unthinkable.

Time was not on your side. If he was going to turn you, he had to do it sooner rather than later, or you would be too weak to survive the transformation.

He hated that he even had to do this. He was supposed to spare you from pain, not cause it. This wouldn’t be easy on you, not by a long shot. All he could do was hope that he was doing the right thing.

You both decided his place is where it would happen. His apartment was soundproof, so no one could hear you if you scream. He tried to prepare you the best that he could. He explained what he would do and how you would feel. It would be painful, but that pain would subside into a peaceful sleep and when you woke up, you’d be his forever. The two of you would be forever bonded by blood and you would feel a connection unlike any you ever felt before.

You put on a brave face, but you were scared. Max sugarcoated the process, you were sure of it. He was trying to keep you from getting too scared to go through with it and you loved him for it. Before stepping into the bedroom, you sneak into his study and slip a note into the desk drawer. It’s a note you hope he never has to read.

Max set up his bedroom like something out of a romance novel. There were dozens of candles lit, giving the room an ethereal glow. He made the bed using the softest cotton sheets in your favorite color, adding pillows and warm blankets. This should be the most special night of your life. You were taking a risk and trusting him to do something that might kill you. He had to make this everything you dreamed of.

Everything about the room was perfect. He filled the room with all your favorites: your favorite colors, your favorite scents, and your favorite sounds. It was beautiful. You wanted to remember this moment. Tonight was the last night of your life as you knew it. You hug yourself as the reality of what’s about to happen hits you.

“Do you like it?”

The touch of his hand on your shoulder makes you jump.

“It’s beautiful.”

You walk to the bed and run your fingers over the sheets. This was really happening; You were about to let him turn you into a vampire.

He gently grasps your shoulders and turns you to face him. His eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them. He swallows hard and smiles.

“Do you want another minute?”

Your lips press into a thin line. Your throat is so dry that you can barely get the words out.

“No…I’m ready.”

Max’s hand trails down your arm and takes your hand in his. He hopes you can’t see how scared he is. If this doesn’t go well, he’ll never forgive himself. He has to try though, it’s worth the risk. He can’t lose you.

He guides you to the bed, helping you to lie down. The scent of your blood is driving him crazy; making it hard to think straight. Watching the bounce of your carotid is mesmerizing. He could just bite down and take his fill. He knows you would let him, but you’re not just a meal. You are the love of his life. You are the one that loved him for who he really was, not the monster he’d become.

He crawls over you and slants his mouth on yours. His tongue dances with yours as he pushes up the hem of your dress and caresses your thigh. The monster within him wants to ravage you. He wants to take you rough and fast, devouring every inch of you until you are completely his for eternity. The man he wants to be is trying to do the exact opposite.

He pulls back and turns his face away from you. The war within himself is raging. He didn’t want you to see his darkness; He wanted to be strong for you and be the man you deserve.

You reach up and touch his cheek, trying to turn his face back toward you. You can see the tendons in his neck strain. The muscles of his jaw twitch. Was he having second thoughts?

“What’s wrong?” you pant softly.

His eyes are closed so tightly that he sees white. He has to get control of himself for your sake. This isn’t supposed to be a terrifying experience for you.

“Nothing.” He says through gritted teeth. “I just need a…a minute.”

The tingle in his fangs grows stronger; the blood lust is taking over. He runs his tongue over his teeth to buy some time.

You stare up at him. He looks like he’s in pain. This isn’t what you want for him; you don’t want him putting himself through this just for you.

“It’s okay, baby.” you whisper. “I trust you.”

His jaw goes slack. Your trust is the greatest gift you could give. He looks down at you, his mocha irises have taken on a maroon hue. He knows what he has to do. The monster can’t win.

He doesn’t respond, he just kisses you again. He wants you to get lost in the feeling and let all your worries go.

Nimble fingers ghost over your skin as they follow the trail of open-mouthed kisses down your body. A gentle nip against one thigh, and then the other before he descends upon your center. Your hips twitch as his lush lips suction over your sensitive bundle of nerves. The sensation zings through your body and you know your orgasm is only seconds away. The delicious tension in your lower abdomen is enough to make your eyes water and your first tightens in his hair. He draws his tongue in tight circles, and waves of pleasure wash over you as you cry out his name. 

“Max…” you breathe. “Bite me, please.”

“Not yet.” he murmurs into your skin. “Not yet.”

His lips find every spot on your body that makes you shiver, marking them as his. You are an addiction for him; the one that he can’t get enough of. His world is so much brighter with you in it. You believe he’s saving you, yet you’re the one giving his life purpose.

Every kiss, every ragged breath, draws you further into him. He’s the only thing that exists for you now; he’s your second chance at life. Life…what a funny word. How ironic that the one thing that will allow you to live is death.

 He makes love to you slowly and gently, making you fall apart for him, ringing every bit of pleasure from you until you're exhausted and sweaty.

He kisses you one more time. His eyes are even more red now, but you’re not afraid. You want this; you want him, more than anything.

“Just try to relax, okay? It’s going to hurt for a minute, but then it will feel amazing, I promise.”

You smile weakly and nod your head. If this is how it ends, it’s worth it. Dying in the arms of the man you love is the way you want to go. 

“I love you.”

Your whispered words float to his ears like a gentle breeze, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked smile.

“I love you, too.”

His fangs glisten in the candlelight and then sink into your neck. There’s a slight pinch and then your body feels as if it’s on fire. The heat spreads from your neck, radiating out to your arms, down your torso and all the way to your toes. Your fingers dig into his shoulders and a scream ripples from your throat. The intense sensation becomes even stronger, like you’re burning from the inside out. Your back arches off the bed as he drinks from you. All you can feel is pain…and then it’s gone.

Max moans as your blood touches his tongue. It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, better than the finest wine or richest chocolate. He could drink from you forever; it’s as though every bit of goodness from you is a part of him now. All your love and compassion are just as much his now as they are yours. Your essence flows through him, making him feel whole again.

You feel lighter than you ever have, like you’re floating on the fluffiest cloud. It doesn’t hurt anymore, and you’re at peace. Your mind drifts and you imagine yourself in a beautiful open meadow; birds are chirping and the sun is warming your face. Max is beside you as wade through the tall grass. It’s euphoric, like the best high you ever had. This feels like heaven.

Max drinks deeper. He should stop soon, but you taste so good that a little more won’t hurt. You feebly push at his shoulder, but he can’t pull away. He keeps taking and taking; drinking in your essence.

Darkness descends on your meadow. The vibrant colors of the flowers and the sky become muted. Looking down at your hand, you see it’s become almost transparent. You're fading away and you’re powerless to stop it. You grasp for Max, but he slips through your fingers. Little by little, your body is disappearing until you completely fade away.

He doesn’t have the strength to pull away. In the back of his mind, he can feel your breathing become more shallow. ‘Just a bit more…it’s okay’ he tells himself. The monster inside him won’t let him stop.

Your hand slips from his shoulder as your final breath leaves your body. There’s just nothing now, just endless black all around. 

Max pulls away and wipes the blood from his chin. He feels more alive than he ever has. He looks down at your still form. You look so peaceful, like a beautiful angel sent to earth just for him. You made him believe in love again, and now you were his for eternity. He kisses your parted lips and tears himself away from you.

As he waits, he wipes the blood from your neck with a soft cloth. His mind races. What will you say when you open your eyes again? Will you feel scared or angry? Will you regret letting him do this?

Each tick of the clock feels like an eternity. It could take several hours for you to complete the transition and become your new self, but he doesn’t want to leave you alone; the worst thing that could happen to a new vampire is to wake up alone.

Time is crawling. He paces the floor in front of the bed, waiting for a sign that this worked. He prayed for it; something he hadn’t even thought about since he was a little boy when his mother forced him to attend church every Sunday. The silver cross his mother wore around her porcelain neck is permanently etched into his memory.

Looking down at the dried blood crusted on his chest, he felt his skin tighten. He should clean up, so you don’t panic when you see him. The red tinged water cascaded down his body and into the drain, washing away the brutality of his actions. This was a new start for the both of you, a chance to go anywhere and do anything. You would be free of pain and the two of you could spend forever together.

He sat down on the bed and took your limp hand in his. Little droplets of water ran down the back of his neck. You should be awake by now; it had been hours. He ran his hand through his hair as the panic set in. Maybe he just needed to give it more time. There wasn’t an instruction manual for turning humans into vampires.

The hours ticked by and he couldn’t take it anymore. This was taking too long. Something was wrong. 

He sat at your side, never moving as the sun’s rays slipped past the blinds. When he shook you gently and you didn’t respond; he shook you harder, your body jerking with the motion.

“No, no, no.” he whispers.

He tapped your cheek, but you didn’t move. A feeling of dread washed over him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You should be awake right now, looking at him with tired, beautiful eyes. You were his.

He gathers you into his arms and holds your limp body to his chest. He slowly rocks you as tears stream down his cheeks. You’re gone…and you’re not coming back.

Rage fills his body, and he gently lowers you back to the bed. He paces, raking his fingers through his hair. This was supposed to save you, not end your life. He can’t help but think of all the things he’s stolen from you, from the both of you.

Max pulls the journals off the shelves, furiously flipping the pages. There must be something that he missed…but there’s nothing. There are no magic words, no spells or potions that can take back what he’s done. He’s killed the thing he loved most in this world. The desk landed on its side with a loud thud, sending the books and papers flying.

Something caught his eye in all that mess. An envelope with his name on it, the handwriting was yours; he could recognize it anywhere.

Max, 

If you’re reading this, it means I’m gone. I want you to know I fought so hard to stay with you. I wanted that forever so badly. 

Whatever you do, promise me you won’t blame yourself. I don’t. You did the best you could for me. It just wasn’t meant to be. 

There is so much good in you, my love. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Please don’t lose that. Fight the darkness inside you. 

I love you with all my heart. If there is something after this, I will find you again. I swear. We’ll have the things we’ve always dreamed of. 

His head tilts back, and he howls, screaming to the heavens and cursing anything and everything for taking you from him. He chucks a lamp across the room, watching it shatter against the wall. He’s blinded by hatred for himself as he tears the room apart, the crashing and banging doing nothing to absolve him of his guilt.

You lie splayed across the bed, and he moves to you once more, the mattress creaking softly beneath his weight. His fingers caress your cold cheek as he murmurs his apologies into your temple.

“I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry, baby….”

He’s not sure how long he holds you like this, but his voice is hoarse and he’s hungry. He needs to feed again. The thought disgusts him, but he can’t deny the need for blood. That monster inside him is calling to him once again, the monster that he could only keep in check because of you. There wasn’t any need to fight that monster anymore.

Under the cover of night, he takes your wrapped body to your favorite place. You loved stargazing, and it only seemed right for you to be where you had the best view of the stars.

“Please forgive me, my love.”

Those whispered words would be the last he ever said to you. He hoped he hadn’t dammed you to some horrible afterlife by doing what he’d done.

He pulled his mother’s silver cross from his pocket. He hissed in pain as he laid it on your chest. His skin sizzles and thin wisps of smoke rise into the air. The wound will heal soon enough, but he wishes it wouldn’t. The pain was a small price to pay. He deserved to suffer for his mistake, to burn for eternity for harming the most precious thing in the world.

He looks to the full moon, shining down on the freshly packed dirt that covered your body. Never again would he let someone in; he wasn’t worthy of someone’s love.

The hunger gnawed at him again. The monster called out, and this time, he didn’t fight it. It started with a hallow feeling in the pit of his stomach, shadows wrapping their dark, wispy tendrils around what used to be his heart. He let the darkness consume him…and then he was gone.