Back to Alice's pov.
I sat quietly in the back of the taxi, the engine humming as the streets of Witmore rolled past the windows. My mind was far away, tangled in the events of my first day at Witmore College—Kaiser, the chaos, the whispers, and the cold stares.
I clenched my jaw.
Why did today feel like the beginning of something that wasn't meant for me? Why did the air around that school feel heavy—like I'd walked into a world that wasn't made for someone like me?
The taxi driver turned up the radio. A sharp, urgent voice cut through my thoughts.
"…Authorities urge all civilians to avoid Eastward Block due to a series of unexplained deaths. Reports suggest bodies were found… mutilated. No suspect or creature has been caught yet. Stay indoors and avoid the area for your safety…"
I stiffened.
Eastward Block.
That was where I lived.
The driver caught my eye in the mirror. "That's not where you're headed, is it?"
I swallowed. I could ask him to turn around. I could spend the night somewhere else—anywhere else.
But I shook my head. "It's fine. Just drop me at the corner."
"Not like I can afford an hotel anyways. ", I said sadly.
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he didn't. The cab rolled to a stop a few minutes later.
I stepped out.
The street was… wrong. Too quiet. No footsteps, no children's laughter, not even a dog barking. Darkness sat heavily on the neighborhood. Most street lights flickered or were out completely.
My apartment building loomed ahead, a dull grey shadow against the night. I walked faster, my shoes crunching against broken glass on the sidewalk.
Inside the building, it was pitch black. I sighed, tugged my phone from my pocket, and turned on the flashlight.
"Great. Power's out again," I muttered, climbing the stairs.
My room was on the second floor. The halls were quiet as usual, maybe too quiet. I reached my door and unlocked it.
The smell hit me instantly.
Copper. Metallic. Thick.
Blood.
I froze at the threshold.
I lifted my phone.
A wet squelching noise came from inside—low, animal-like.
Then I saw her.
Standing in the middle of my small, crummy apartment was a woman.
Or what used to be a woman.
She was hunched over someone. Blood poured from her mouth, staining her chin and neck. Her skin was pale like wax. Long, thick fangs were sunk deep into the throat of a man whose body had stopped moving.
My neighbor. Mr. Del. The kind man who used to bring me groceries when I couldn't afford much.
His body twitched once.
The woman turned to me slowly.
Her eyes were black and hollow, sunken into her skull. Her mouth was open too wide—inhumanly wide—with blood-stained fangs glistening under the beam of my flashlight. She hissed.
I screamed.
The phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a crack.
My back hit the wall as I stumbled out of the room, my heart hammering in my chest.
She moved.
God—she moved.
Not like a person. Like something twisted, her bones bending wrong, her body jerking toward me.
I tried running but I just couldn't move, my body didn't responded to me.
The woman closed our distance with an inhuman speed, within nearly a second.
And she opened her mouth widely. She had long fungs, blood due to the blood of all her other victims.
And then I screamed.