A Sanguinary Rose (Complete)
First Blood

Their looks burned through my skull and their uncaring remarks bored into my soul. Nevertheless, the same night that I first saw the swollen moon turning red like a titan’s heart was also the night I found the courage to approach my crush.

You see, where I came from, the formal etiquette was that boys approached girls. Not the other way around. And yet, out of the many things I regretted before I died, this was not one of them.

The party was overcrowded—it was a far cry from the environment where I thrived. Was I slouching too much, or was my back comically upright? Was my stride too lanky or too stiff? Even after the many hours practicing my gait before the mirror, I still felt unnatural, as though I’d jumped into someone else’s skin. My hair, light bronze and wavy, what if it shuffled to the side the way it bothered me so much? The smile on my face felt more artificial the longer I forced my lips to stay curled. But my biggest fear was losing my footing to my high heels.

He saw me stumbling toward him.

Alan Grayson. He held a mystifying quality about him by the way he carried himself with such grace in a fashion almost noble, how he moved about with aristocratic flair. For context, here was a 16-17-year-old high school student from a pint-sized town in the PNW acting like he’d just attended a ball in royal regalia.

His frame was lithe, his limbs toned. His white blond hair was slicked back, keeping his spotless features in full display. Almost everyone wanted to be his friend; a few, his rival. He was one of, if not the most popular boy at Farpoint High School.

I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I faced down the abyss where my social status was about to go plummeting in one false move.

There was still time to turn back, to pretend something else had caught my attention, but some madness in me drove me forward and I stumbled into his personal space.

The music killed my voice before a word came out of my taut lips, which prompted this otherworldly beauty of a boy to lean down with his ear towards me. I produced another meek ‘hi.’

“What’s that?” Alan said loudly. He scratched the back of his head, as if not wanting to state the obvious. “Music’s too loud.”

Between the din of frantic guitar strings and students hooting and pushing, I would have to speak above my comfort zone. Thankfully the flashing lights concealed my reddening cheeks.

“No need for words if we get on the dance floor,” I said louder, pulling the sweetest smile I could manage. I felt my face burning up. Now I would’ve welcomed the sweet release of death.

Perhaps there was reason to hope, but judging by his reaction, I failed miserably. Alan stiffened on the spot, and the boys flanking him stopped mid-conversation to snicker. He threw them a murderous glance. “Guys… shut up,” he said, before turning back to me. “I’m sorry, Scarlett, but I hate dancing.”

He knew my name even though we weren’t classmates. That, at least, gave me a small boost of confidence. But my heart thundered against my ribs still.

I couldn’t stop fidgeting with my hands. “Just so happens I don’t enjoy it either, so maybe we could... do something else?” Off his nonplussed look I hurried to add, “Talk? I mean...” His eyes were a mesmerizing gray, like liquid silver. It was easy to become lost in his gaze.

That is if he didn’t yank you out. “It seems we’re not on the same page,” he said, standing straight, hands tucked in pockets. One of his friends burst out laughing. “Guys, I’ll kill you for this.” He eyed me then, and I thought I saw something harsh and stern in him mellowing out a little. “It’s me they’re laughing at, not you. And it’s not the reason you think it is. Look, it’s hard to explain these things because...” He had had the answer on the tip of his tongue, and I knew it. I just didn’t understand yet why he wouldn’t tell me. “I mean, you’re not my type. And I mean that on many levels. There’s no tale to tell here.”

I couldn’t help the inquisitive furrowing of my brow. “On many levels… you mean as in, not into... girls… or…? I mean, that’s fine. Can’t really blame you.”

“What?” He gave me a tight-lipped smile that spelled out defeat and turned to his friends. “Help me out here, what else am I supposed to say?”

“That’s why it’s hilarious,” one said.

“Or, you know? Just don’t,” another quipped.

“Sorry, man, you’re on your own.”

This time Alan wore an annoyed expression. Whatever had mellowed out earlier in him came back morose now. My legs quivered a little. “I don’t feel like explaining myself. I have my reasons. I don’t want to dance, and no, I don’t want to talk either, so save your breath and ask somebody else next time. Many will say yes, you can bet on it.”

My thoughts shifted gears to focus less on impressing him and more on who else might be watching, judging my every move, my every word. This would become school-wide news by tomorrow.

I gave Alan a thin smile before retreating through the ever-shifting amorphous crowds that covered the makeshift dance floor. “Hilarious, Evan. No, I won’t be guarding anybody from my temper.” That was the last thing I heard before their voices got drowned out in the blasting music.

I wanted nothing more than to hide the fact that I was so upset, but sad eyes made for terrible liars. If only I could vanish into thin air. Going home was my first impulse. At least no one would see me curled between my bedsheets, clutching my pillow, I figured.

I strained my sight in all directions, searching for a sign of my friends. Last I knew of Rick and Amanda, they were making out on the couch by the chimney. And Tiffany had offered me a drink before my ‘daring venture,’ though I had to reject her offer. Disco lights of bright colors spun and drifted in the hall and living room, fuzzed out by cigarette smoke and small devices jetting billows of fog, so it was hard to distinguish the moving faces in front of me.

It was no surprise when I didn’t replace my friends by the couch. But the more I dwelled on Alan’s rejection and the fact that now the whole school would be sure to know about it, the more I wanted to leave, to hide, to disappear. Booze gave me no pleasure or escape, not to mention I was underage, and it tasted gross. Plus, only awkward conversations with my friends would result from this. I couldn’t stomach tonight anymore.

So, I headed for the front porch, threading my way among dancing couples, drunken students shuffling about their way, and groups of friends being rowdy. As I snatched my black faux-fur coat from the peg at the entrance, I felt her presence looming behind me. I pitied the family member that had to feed that mouth to near adulthood.

Melanie Noir stood at least three inches taller than me and easily weighed five tons more. “Gee, looking like that, small wonder he turned you down. I don’t think slutty-looking vampires are on demand right now.” The raven-haired vixen smiled at her clever joke. Ever since that clash we had at the Homecoming dance two months ago, I had become a target of her cruelty. Poking fun at my porcelain skin tone was something she loved doing.

“I don’t remember the last time cows were on demand,” I said, before slinking out into the chill of night, leaving Melanie to her outraged scowl and her stuttering mouth fumbling with insults.

Outside, the boisterous noise in the house made for a stark contrast with the nocturnal silence otherwise shrouding the whole town. Music rocked the windows in their frames. A trio wearing hoodies and tubed jeans puffed out trails of smoke. Two of them leaned against each of the banisters and the third sat on the topmost step.

“Want a cig?” One of them offered.

I slid past between them and turned sharply toward the end of the road.

The meandering side streets along Elder Grove Trail came to dead ends and cul-de-sacs with houses circling forested patches and some of the tall hills that dominated Farpoint, our fair and insignificant dot in Washington State.

Towards the end I turned on Winding Hills Avenue and followed it down to Weeping Willow Drive, the street I lived on. The low, rumbling noise of music fell off to near complete silence. Pockets of light glowed along the sidewalk, and one of the lampposts blinked for a beat. My shadow appeared, elongated, vanished, and reappeared. I shrunk into my coat’s warmth and hugged tightly to ward off the chill of the autumn wind.

A thin, faint mist had settled over the grass like a membranous spiderweb. Cars rested at the curb like slumbering sentinels. The wonderful thing about Farpoint was that no place was too far away for our puny human feet. Full-time Farpoint residents didn’t need a car for their commute. Of course, people owned them, nonetheless.

I think the first thing I noticed when my family and I moved here from Seattle last year was that the moon could be appreciated with greater detail than anywhere else, especially when full. Somehow it seemed bigger, and so clear you could count its craters. At first it was uncanny. But living here, you get used to it. It watches over us, our great white guardian. Yet, every time we traveled back to Seattle or out of state, it never failed to shock me like the first time just how big it is...

A wolf’s howl echoed in the distance once. Then the loudest sound came from my high heels clicking on the gravel. It made for an unsettling rhythm. Tack-tack-tack-tack. A rush of air made the trees rustle and the leaves scatter across the pavement, sending a cold shudder down my limbs.

Soon I realized someone had been following me. At first it was a hunch, but then I felt his presence. A stab of dread surged from my core. Goose bumps prickled along my arms and my throat went dry like sandpaper.

I looked over my shoulder. Streetlights stood far apart from each other, creating glowing pools of light in a sea of darkness. Towering pine trees watched over me from the sides, possibly giving concealment to my stalker. I hurried on. My rapid breathing came out in wisps of mist, wafting away by the chill of the night. By then I had my heart at my throat.

Something creaked a short distance away from me—a leaf or a twig, possibly. With a quick glance over my shoulder I caught a slight movement like someone lurching forward, a fleeting shadow within the gloom, and I turned tail, kicking off my high heels and running as fast as my feet could take me.

It was Dad who told me that: if you can’t run, leave behind whatever hinders you—it might just save your life. It wasn’t long before I heard his footfalls on the hard ground as he took off after me in a sprint.

I dug into my coat’s pocket for my smartphone and thumbed on the fingerprint scanner—try again. I cursed and fumbled until the home screen came up. My street was a few dozen yards away. I cut through the park, darting over moist grass, as the soles of my feet found relief and a firm foothold to run faster.

I hit the phone app. Three numbers. That’s all I needed. I couldn’t tap number 9 as the running and swaying motions made me miss. Delete. 9-1-1. He was close to me now, I could hear.

Somehow, he had cleared the distance faster than I expected. I caught a glimpse of his face, concealed in shadow, a transitory blur that would forever haunt me if I lived.

It was too late to scream, but I shrieked my lungs out anyway, before a sturdy hand wrapped over my mouth and drowned out my cries for help. The phone slipped between my fingers and thudded on grass. It never rang. I glimpsed a set of three piercings over his eyebrow, glistening against the lamplight while I struggled to free my mouth.

“Hush, sweetheart. You only get to enjoy this once in your life,” he growled. His breath stank of iron. I tried to kick him back, but I might as well have tried to kick a boulder. His free hand went over my breasts. Tears dribbled down the side of my face. A memory I thought I kept repressed stormed to the forefront of my mind as I tried to squirm free. “See you in the afterlife, darling.” Instead, he did something I didn’t expect, never would’ve expected.

He swept the hair away from my neck, and bit down on it.

It hurt for one tiny moment. Then I went numb. The one thing I felt was a lingering tingling sensation. Little by little, my lifeblood drained out of my body, along with all my strength and wits. I stopped fighting back within seconds. It’s not I didn’t want to. But my will to resist had abandoned me. A burning feeling took over my entire body, as though ants had come out of the ground to swarm and eat at my insides. I lay there at his arms, blinking at the starry night sky and the full red, bloody moon.

Nothing made sense. And everything made sense at the same time. As the last drop of consciousness left my body, so much regret filled me up to my head—all the things I never did or never said because I didn’t dare stand out or speak up. Finally approaching Alan was part of the change I wanted to see in myself...

The stranger let go, and I tumbled on the sweet-smelling grass without protest. Soon the edges of my vision blackened, and I became one with the dark.