The first thing Mika noticed was the sound.
It started as a soft hum in her ears, like white noise from a television left on in a darkened room. But then it grew louder—more pointed. Not just a sound, but a sensation, like her eardrums were vibrating against something invisible. The ringing deepened, growing painful, splitting into different frequencies until she realized they weren't just noises.
They were **heartbeats**.
One… strong and steady—her own. Another… deeper, heavier, pounding like a drum behind skin and bone—**his**. And then others. Dozens. No… hundreds. Each thump echoing like footsteps on pavement. Her neighbors. The man upstairs. The couple next door. A dog. A baby. The building had turned into a living hive of rhythm and blood.
Her hands trembled.
She staggered back from him, clutching the wall, the wallpaper's texture like razor blades against her fingertips. The hunger gnawed at her insides—**no**, not hunger. **Starvation**. Her stomach twisted, caved inward like a sinkhole, trying to devour itself from the inside out.
She hadn't eaten. That wasn't it.
It wasn't food she needed.
It was **him**.
Lex stood still, his shirt half-torn, sleeve soaked crimson. Blood dripped from a gash on his wrist, trailing down his arm in thick, glistening threads. She couldn't tear her gaze away. Every drop hitting the floor echoed like thunder. Her throat clenched, dry as dust, but her mouth—her mouth watered.
No. **No.**
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her legs to move, but her muscles wouldn't listen. Her limbs trembled violently, every nerve ending tingling. She tried to step back.
But her body **lurched forward.**
"Stop—" she whispered.
Her pupils blew wide, swallowing the blue of her eyes, leaving only black voids. Her breathing came in sharp, ragged gasps. Her lips parted.
And then—**she lunged**.
Mika latched onto his wrist like a starving animal, her teeth piercing skin without hesitation. There was no grace, no seduction, no cinematic elegance—**just raw, brutal instinct**. Blood flooded her mouth, hot and coppery, coating her tongue, sliding down her throat. Her hands clutched his arm like claws, nails digging into flesh, drawing more blood.
She was making a mess.
It dripped down her chin, soaked the front of her shirt, pooled onto the floor between her bare feet. Her body trembled, but not from fear—from **relief**. The ache began to fade. The starvation, for a moment, dulled.
Lex didn't flinch.
Instead, he tilted his head, eyes hooded, a dark smile curling his lips. His other hand rose and—**he began to pet her.** Slowly. Fingers threading through her hair, careful, gentle.
"Good girl," he murmured. "Just like that."
She froze for half a second—but her body didn't stop. Her mouth kept moving, swallowing, feeding. Her eyes brimmed with tears, panic surging through her veins like venom.
**What am I doing?!**
This wasn't her. This wasn't what she wanted. Her teeth were still sunk into his flesh. She couldn't stop. Her mind screamed, but her body only wanted more.
"Such an obedient little thing," he whispered, his voice as smooth as velvet—**and sharp as a knife.** "I knew you'd come around. You were always meant to, Mika."
**Stop.** Her inner voice begged.
She whimpered into his wrist, but it came out muffled, wet.
"You feel it, don't you?" he asked, tone sweet like poison. "Your body remembering what it's never known. Your soul waking up. I didn't force this on you. The rose chose you."
The rose.
Her mind reeled.
She remembered the thorn—how it pricked her finger days ago. How the pain spread like ink under her skin. How the wound never fully healed. And now…
The blood on that rose was **his**.
And now it was **hers**.
A fantasy book she read in middle school resurfaced—half-remembered passages about blood curses, rituals, vampire origins. It all sounded ridiculous back then. Stories. But now… her body was **changing**.
She was becoming one.
And Lex—Lex had done this to her.
She tore her mouth away from his wrist with a gasp, stumbling back, blood smeared across her chin and lips like war paint. Her knees buckled beneath her. Her body screamed in protest, still hungry, still aching.
He looked down at his wrist, torn and raw, blood still oozing.
"Why?" she rasped, her voice shaking. "Why are you like this now? You weren't always like this. You were kind. Sweet. You held doors open. You brought me tea. You—**you made me laugh.**"
Lex knelt in front of her, his voice low.
"Because that's what you needed me to be. Kindness is just another mask, Mika. You wouldn't have let me near you if I showed you what I really was."
She flinched as he touched her cheek, smearing his blood across her skin.
"I didn't change," he whispered. "I just stopped pretending."
His smile widened, teeth too white, too sharp, too real.
"And now, so will you."
She tried to pull away from his hand, but her body refused again. The hunger still burned beneath her skin, twitching in her jaw, aching in her gums. She felt her teeth pressing down—not fangs yet, but **almost.**
"You did this," she whispered. "You used the rose. You made me—"
"No," he said. "You touched the rose. You bled for it. That was your choice. Everything after that… was inevitable."
Her vision blurred, not from tears this time, but something deeper. Her body felt too tight, like her skin was trying to hold back something bigger than herself. Her heartbeat pounded in her temples, drowning out all other sounds—until she heard **his** heartbeat again.
And her neighbor's.
And the baby crying downstairs.
And the dog barking three floors below.
She could still hear **all of them.**
They pulsed in her head like a thousand ticking clocks. She clutched her temples and screamed—a ragged, animalistic sound that scraped her throat raw.
"Please," she said, her voice breaking. "Make it stop."
Lex tilted his head, expression soft—**almost loving.** But his words were a dagger wrapped in silk.
"Oh, my darling," he purred. "It's only just beginning."
She looked down at her bloodstained hands. Her trembling fingers. Her knees soaked in his blood. She was horrified—repulsed—but underneath the terror was something else.
**Elation.**
Her senses had never been sharper. Her skin buzzed with electricity. She could feel the heartbeat of the world.
And she was terrified of how **good** it felt.
"Why me?" she whispered.
He gave her that smile again—**the one she used to trust**, but now saw for what it truly was.
"Because I watched you," he said softly. "For months. I saw the sadness in you. The longing. You don't even know what you're worth, Mika. But I do. You're beautiful. Starving. Ready to be reborn."
She shook her head violently. "You're insane."
He leaned closer, lips brushing her ear.
"Then why do you still want me?"
She choked on a sob, curling into herself. She didn't want him—**but her body did.** The craving was still there, like a coil in her stomach, twisting tighter and tighter.
Then… a shadow moved behind him.
Mika's eyes snapped to it—reflexive, terrified. A flicker of something just out of frame. The wall behind him seemed to ripple like heat rising from asphalt. She blinked rapidly. Nothing.
No—**someone** stood there.
A man. Or the memory of one. Faceless, cloaked in black smoke. Its chest pulsed with glowing red lines—veins? Vines? She couldn't tell. It raised a hand and pointed—at **her**. She opened her mouth to scream, but Lex moved between her and the hallucination, blocking her view.
When she looked again, the shadow was gone.
Lex saw her face change. He smiled, slow and dark.
"They'll come to you more now," he said. "Echoes. Warnings. They're jealous. You're waking up… and they're still dreaming."
She shook, silent. Not knowing if it was a threat… or a promise.
He ran his fingers through her hair again, slow, possessive strokes.
"You did so well," he whispered. "Messy, but… endearing. Next time, you'll be more graceful."
She stared at him, numb, aching. Her voice cracked.
"There won't be a next time."
Lex only smiled, and this time, there was no sweetness in it at all.
"We'll see."
Mika's vision flickered—like a faulty projector skipping frames. The room stuttered around her. Lex's smile warped, his face stretching, distorting for a breath of a second, like his skin didn't quite fit. She blinked hard, and it was gone. Normal again. But nothing felt normal.
The walls… they pulsed.
Her fingers twitched against the floor as she looked around the room. The wallpaper was moving—**breathing**, inflating and deflating like lungs too full of air. Faces pressed through the plaster like drowning victims just beneath the surface. Their mouths opened and closed, no sound escaping. Just lips forming words over and over:
**RUN.**
**RUN.**
**RUN.**
Mika screamed, but the sound caught in her throat, a broken sob that never fully formed.
Lex tilted his head as if listening. "Do you hear them now? The dead don't stay quiet, Mika. Not when one of us is born."
She crawled backward, scraping herself across broken glass, not even noticing the shards embedded in her palms. The pain was distant—nothing compared to the storm inside her chest.
"I didn't ask for this," she croaked.
He rose to his full height, the blood on his wrist already beginning to close, skin knitting itself together in slow, lazy coils. His voice was almost pitying. "You don't ask to be chosen. You just are."
Something inside her snapped. She lunged upward, slamming her shoulder into him with all the strength her weakening body could muster. It was like colliding with stone. He stumbled back half a step—not in pain, but amusement. His laughter was low, vibrating through the room like thunder in her skull.
"That's it," he said, licking the blood from his thumb. "Fight me. Maybe it'll make you feel human again."
She staggered away, pushing herself to her feet, hands pressed to her ears to block out the overlapping thrum of heartbeats, but it didn't help. The sound came from inside her now.
And then—**another sound**.
A voice.
"Mika…"
It wasn't Lex.
It came from the hallway. Familiar. Broken. Young.
She turned, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.
Sunny.
Her sister's voice echoed like it was being dragged through water, distant and warped.
"Mika… what's happening to you…?"
Lex's smile faded. Just a flicker.
Mika stumbled toward the sound, hand outstretched, heart hammering. "Sunny?!"
The hallway at the end of the room shimmered like heat haze. And there she stood—her sister. Not how she looked now, but how she had at sixteen, in the floral sundress Mika always borrowed without asking. Sunny's eyes were wide, terrified.
"Mika, please," the illusion said, reaching out. "You're scaring me."
Lex stepped between them.
"It's not real," he said calmly. "It's just your brain catching up. Memories are tricky things, especially when you're rewiring every cell."
"Get out of my way!" she shrieked, shoving him.
He didn't budge. Instead, his hand snapped out, grabbing her wrist.
His skin was **cold** now. Not warm like it had been. Ice beneath flesh.
She tried to jerk away, but he held tight.
"You're going to see things now," he said. "Feel things. Hunger is just the first gift. The hallucinations come next. Then the cravings. Then the dreams."
"Dreams?" she gasped.
He leaned close, breath brushing her ear. "Oh yes. The ones where you forget you were ever human."
"No," she whispered, voice trembling. "No, no—"
Suddenly, his grip loosened. Not because he chose to release her, but because she bit him.
This time it wasn't gentle. It wasn't even instinctual.
It was **rage**.
Her teeth tore into his hand, right above the knuckles, crunching bone. He hissed, not in pain—but in delight.
He laughed.
Blood splattered across her tongue again, but it wasn't like before. This time it tasted thicker, darker, like something ancient was in it—something coiled and waiting. She gagged and pulled back, stumbling away, coughing violently.
"Mmm," Lex said, flexing his hand. "That part of you is waking up, too. The part that wants to destroy."
"I'm not like you," she spat, wiping the blood from her mouth.
"You don't know what you are yet," he said softly. "But I do."
She collapsed to her knees near the broken mirror leaning against the wall. Her reflection stared back—only it wasn't her. Not exactly.
Her eyes were black, the irises swallowed whole. Her veins stood out under her skin, dark like spiderwebs. Her teeth were sharper. Her face—**too still.**
Behind her, in the mirror, Lex stood watching like a shadow.
He didn't even blink.
She stared at her reflection. She wanted to scream, to cry, to claw the image away. But instead, she reached toward the glass. Her fingers brushed against her reflection—and it **moved without her**.
Her reflection smiled when she didn't.
And whispered, "You're already dead."
Mika recoiled, a whimper escaping her.
"Fight it," she begged herself. "Just fight it. Just—hold on—"
But the reflection wasn't finished.
It opened its mouth wide.
Fangs. Long, elegant, hungry.
Her breath caught.
Lex knelt behind her, wrapping his arms slowly around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder like a lover.
"I told you," he whispered. "You were always meant for more."
And this time, she didn't pull away.
She just closed her eyes—and **listened** to the blood. "I still hate you." She muttered quietly.