Best Friends

“I met Eris at the start of Sophomore year.

“It truly started my first day back, when I got into a fight with one of the football players at lunch. He’d been making some rude-ass comments towards one of the girls, so I told him to cut it out. Needless to say— I ended up getting one good punch to his face, in front of the whole school. But I wouldn’t say I won.

“Turns out, he was dating a cheerleader, and from that day on, the whole squad decided I was public enemy numero uno. 

“One day, after classes, I was sitting on the bleachers next to the track, minding my own damn business. I was texting Mom to let her know I was on my way home when Chelsea Wright and a friend of hers passed me by.

“Something inside me shriveled up. I felt sick. I knew how to deal with black eyes or sore knuckles. But those girls. . . they were something else entirely. I don’t know what they’d said, but all of a sudden, I was a pariah to everyone, even people I’d thought were my friends. I walked down the hall and all the kids parted around me. Other girls left the bathroom when I walked in. Chelsea’s comment was the first thing someone had even sort of said to me in weeks.

“But I didn’t rise to the bait. Not there. I just got cold. I wanted to be the cool, laid-back girl— someone who couldn’t be broken. And it wasn’t like those rumors were even true. 

“Before I knew it, I was packing my bag and shirking behind the bleachers. I took a shortcut through the dingle to get home.”

“Oh, it is.

“In some ways, I was lucky. The path was covered in trash, old cigarette butts and needles, but it was empty for the moment. I tried to walk away, to not think about it. But at some point, my music ran out, and I was just marching along, hefting my bag on one arm, left totally alone with just what was going on inside my head.

“I broke down. Just, completely wrecked. Ugly sobbing my eyes out on the cold dirt, dropping my bag, dropping everything. I was so lonely, so lonely it was fucking with my head.

“That was when I noticed Eris. She was unreal, like something out of a movie. All in white, standing, hidden in the greenery on the other side of the broken fence. She was watching me, twisting leaves between her fingers, strands of hair curling around her smile.

“She didn’t answer. And— even though I didn’t even know her name— I was so messed up that I spilled right there, vented every stupid frustration with every stupid homophobic comment, every suspicious side-eye, every white kid who locked their car when I walked past— I cried until my throat was raw.

“She should’ve killed me, then. I was asking for it. Fucking idiot.

“Instead, she slinked towards me and wrapped her cold arms around my waist.

“The next morning, there was only one thing anyone wanted to talk about— the hot new transfer student.

“Those first few days, even though she had the attention of every student, and some of the teachers besides, she had eyes only for me. Whenever we were in the same room— and we shared plenty of classes— she stared at me for as long as she thought no one would notice. But I always noticed.

“She came to sit at my little loner’s table at lunch.

“I made her laugh— real laughter, or so I thought. She sat down, and she continued to join me day-by-day. We were making everyone jealous. Her presence was magnetic. It was Eris’s world, and we were all just living in it.

“As she explained to me later— much later— I had become her new mark. She was sick of waiting for her true love to come of age, so had decided to make a new companion for herself. To try and move on.

“We fit together perfectly. Eris— she was just like the sunset. She made any little thing romantic. The shitty school lunches. The changing of seasons. Smoking behind the bleachers. I thought it was the teenage dream.

“Now, it’s all a blur. The endless afternoons together, swapping mixtapes, stealing gum from the corner store. All I know is that I was the one who confessed first.

“We were in my bedroom. I was strumming on my guitar, and she was on the floor, looking through my bookshelf. My fingers kept slipping, whenever I looked at her, and silence would fill the room. She was a mystery, a miracle. The most beautiful girl in the world, and here she wanted to hang out with me. 

“Eris, like, freaked out. She crawled up onto my bed, like a spider, and pushed my guitar onto the floor. She laid herself on top of me, her fingers digging into my arms. Her hair caught in my teeth. 

“She grabbed my face.

“That’s when things started to go downhill. But not before we started dating.

“It was done in secret. Eris didn’t want it to be, but I held my ground. My mom would’ve freaked out. I figured if I could hold on until eighteen, I’d move in with Eris if anything drastic went down. 

“On New Year’s Eve, Eris dragged me to a party and she got— I guess I would call it drunk. I found her sucking— literally sucking— the neck of an honor student in the bathroom.

“And that’s how I learned that she was a vampire.

“She’d been laying low for decades at that point. She’d feed off women, but wouldn’t kill them outright. Apparently, this made her weaker. But she was so excited to tell me everything she could do at full strength— controlling shadows, turning into a giant cat.

“We left to stand out in the snow. She said she wanted me to be like her. That she could make me like her.

“I didn’t have an answer. So I stayed quiet. 

“Over the next few months, something inside me began to change. I was kept awake by horrible dreams. As the days wore on, I got weaker and weaker. Eris stayed close, doting on me. I was too delirious to protest. She’d sneak into my room after dark and cradle my limp body in her arms.

“When spring came, all my sheets stunk of rotten meat. I couldn’t eat, and sometimes when I tried to sleep, it felt like something was shifting inside me, against my will. Then I vomited blood on the carpet, and I swear— that was the last straw.

“Covered in sweat and bile, curling up the stupid rug into my hamper, rifling through the cupboard for quarters— what was I doing? 

“She came to me in the most romantic of places— the 24-hour laundromat. . .

“Looking like a ghost, wearing white underneath the buzzing lights, her hair black as shit.

“The machine shuddered as I struck it with the side of my fist. But Eris wasn’t phased.

“So she told me. And I never had time to really react to it at all. 

“The next morning, exhausted from my midnight excursion, my body rejected the change. So I died.”

“Something. . . pulled me back.”

A shooting star flickered over Eleanor’s head. 

I suddenly clutched my head in pain. Back to what was. . . almost reality, atop the headstone, Eleanor was leaking color. I was beginning to see the trees shine through her skin. 

My eyes were stinging.

“Why did you come to me, then?” I said. “And not Diana?”

“Lauren. . .” She sighed. “I’m trying to save your life.”

“You didn’t have to,” I said. “She— she misses you so much!”

Eleanor ignored me. “Your options are limited. If both you and Eris are alive by sunrise, you’re going to become a vampire.” 

“Oh.”

I knew that— some part of me had to have known that. Eris had told me outright only a few days earlier. But it still came as a shock to my harried system, chilled me down to the bone.

“That’s— bad,” I said.

Eleanor hummed. “Is it?”

Wasn’t it? A fate so horrible multiple versions of me had committed grievous violence against themselves to get out? “Y-yes?” 

Her expression softened. “What I mean, kid, is that it’s your decision. Don’t do anything rash just because someone told you to.” 

I was going to cry again.

I said, “But I don’t know what I want. I don’t know who I am at all.”

The graveyard was darkening to rapid nightfall, a sheet of velvet hung over the treetops. The snow flurries were suddenly sticking to my hair, over top of my near-blue skin, in my eyes.

“I love her,” I said. “But she’s killing me. She’s killing me, and I never even got a choice. R-really, that’s all I wanted. But—”

Eleanor was looking at me with an expression somewhere between sympathy and confusion. Her brow wrinkled, and her lips parted unconsciously. I tried to wipe my face, but everything, all the grief, was sticking.

“But if she’s gone, I know I’m never going to feel this way again. I don’t think anyone else will ever love me.” I pulled at my hair. “How could they?”

“Oh, kid.”

 Eleanor rose to her feet and offered a hand that I did not take, or even acknowledge. I stayed on the ground, on my knees, shivering uncontrollably.

“Breathe,” Eleanor said.

“You breathe.” I glared down at the dirt, but I followed her lead. I set my hands down on the frozen ground, let my body fold in on itself. Eleanor lowered herself down with me. She took one of my hands, stroking it gently— but I could hardly feel her anymore. With my other hand, I clutched at the sloppy knot at the base of my neck.

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, after all.”

“Kid.”

I pushed myself up to my knees.

“I thought maybe I could find another way. That I could survive. But— but now I’ve just ruined it all!”

Too ashamed to see Eleanor’s face, I hid my eyes with the heel of my hand. Hot tears bubbled up underneath, dribbling down my nose.

“I—I’ve thought about it for so long, before I even knew— what she was. It was, just— always there, in the back of my mind. And then it’ll be me. It’ll end with me.”

“And then, it’ll happen all over again,” Eleanor said. She was standing again, looking down on me. “Besides, weren’t you just talking about my sister?”

“S-stop,” I gasped, and looked up.

“You wanted my advice.” Eleanor’s black eyes bored into me.

“And you said it’s my choice.” I spat at the ground.

She nodded. “I did.”

“So, I want to kill myself.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Would you just stop being a hypocrite for five minutes?” I stumbled to my feet, and stomped over to her. She stood her ground. “Is this some kind of angel script? Do you have to meet your quota?”

She stiffened, her thumbs hooked into her belt loops. “I’m only trying to help,” she said, like I hadn’t heard that before. “Think about who you’d be leaving behind.”

I was.

“You should understand.” I was almost face-to-face with her— would’ve been, if I was taller. “She’s done the same thing to you. She can’t have us. She can’t have me. I want to make her— make her—”

“Make her feel it.” Eleanor nodded.

“I don’t want her to have a moment of peace for the rest of her stupid fucking life!” I tried to swing a punch. For a split second, I was nine years old again, attempting to brawl with her in the yard, and only getting the shit kicked out of me.

Eleanor smoothly stepped out of the way. I felt the wind whoosh against the side of my fist. “You want to make her cry.”

“And never stop!” I nearly fell right on my face. Eleanor grabbed my arm and pinned it to my back. She jostled me with her knee.

“How are you gonna do it?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I wriggled in her grip. “But it’s gonna make a mess. And before then, I’ll look her in the eye. And— and I’ll say—”

“You’ll say, ‘this is just—”

“What you deserve!” I jabbed my elbow into Eleanor’s teeth.

It passed through air.

The wind howled, whistling through nothing. I looked up; the sky was so black that the tops of the trees merely faded away into nothing. The snow was gone, replaced with a flurry of glittery white feathers. One of them fluttered against my open mouth.

I spit it out. “Eleanor?” 

Goosebumps raised on my ghostly arms as I whirled around. 

“I’m— sorry. For wasting your time. Sometimes I say things that are. . .”

She wasn’t there. Even the feathers, when they hit the ground, simply faded away. I couldn’t see the cemetery, either. I was standing in the absence of space.

I was out of time.

“. . . mean.” My hands fell limp at my sides, curled into fists. My thumb nails pressed into my palms.

“Well,” I said into the dark. “I’ll consider your advice, because you came all this way. But don’t count on it.”

All I had left, then, was the waking world. I began to walk forward, purposefully, one shaking leg in front of the other. When I crossed back into the forest, I was in unimaginable pain.

"Aw, balls.”

My phone bzzt on the floor, next to my ear. I opened my eyes, my lashes crusted to my skin from the dried blood. I was back in the bathroom, glass in my palms and my face pressed to the dirty tile.

On impulse, I grabbed the phone with a claw, pinning it to the floor and quieting the noise. My leg screamed as my body moved into a different shape too fast.

My mouth was open and dry. I had evidently coughed brown bile in the interim, the smell stinking the already unpleasant room. Bianca’s blood had leaked onto my broken pant leg. My head throbbed. Eleanor had been right. I was so dying.

In my grip, the phone shook again. 

“Oh my G— oh, Di!”

Standing up was agonizing. Eris had likely broken my shin in two, or nearly so, and the leg was swollen and bending at the break. I licked at the edges of my mouth where blood had dried, and began to run.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

I slid and stumbled out of the building. Every footfall was so jarring and painful that it knocked my breath away. I kept on stuttering to a halt, forced to lose precious seconds no matter how much I tried to favor my left. 

St. Catherine’s Church was only a block away. I burst out into the snow with my jacket torn to near shreds. My stupid treadless sneakers slid on the ice. I keeled upright, forced myself to fall forward, and so stayed on my feet. Falling forward so that I could keep on running.

Diana was in danger, so I had to go.

The solstice night was completely black, only yellow street lights providing me with feeble light. Down empty sidewalks I blazed, slipping a hand under my shirt to feel the rosary’s burn. So long as I thought of her, the cold pierced through the fog that had so long kept me numb to the world.

I didn’t have much time left before I was turned. I didn’t know where Eris had even gone. One of us had to go, and I only had myself. 

There was hardly any light shining outside through the stained glass windows. The hulking wooden doors were left ajar, the inside musty and umber. The bowl of holy water had been emptied onto the slick wooden floor (I slipped on that, too). I dragged my leg through the black entryway, peeking through creaking doorways and stairwells, until I found Diana.

She was standing in front of the altar, lit only with a row of candles, her back straight and feet balancing on the top stair.

At the sight of her safe and whole, the adrenaline keeping me upright began to peter out. My muscles tensed in pain. I gasped and fell forward, stabilizing a hand on my intact knee. My throat was raw— like I’d swallowed those mirror shards— when I said, “Di, what’s wrong?”

Diana didn’t so much as twitch, despite the fact that I must’ve looked like someone who’d just run a city block on a broken leg (because I had). With the candles at her back, her face was hidden in darkness. All around, the white arches that held the ceiling glowed in the circle of light before disappearing into black, cold night. 

I continued to battle my own body, which wanted nothing more than to sink into oblivion. Before I knew it, Diana’s warm hands were on me. She tugged off my torn coat, letting it slouch onto the floor, and held me by the shoulders. Her face was inches away from mine, rapid breath clouding in the freezing air. 

“This place is older than I thought,” she said. 

“What?”

“A vampire needs a tomb, right?” She squeezed my shoulders, hard. My sagging face jerked up to meet hers. “But, if her story is true, then Eris died in the Old World. I was trying to find. . . Well, I’d figured that she’d reburied herself in some out of the way graveyard— but no. It was the perfect hiding spot. No one would suspect a thing.”

“Diana, what are you. . .?”

She slowly turned and pointed down the aisle.

Only then did I notice the altar— cleared of all accouterments but the candles— and the way its white cloth twisted, like a box separated from its cover. The golden crucifix behind was draped with a heavy velvet cloth. 

There was a coffin inside the altar.

Then, Diana was shoving something into my hand.

“Now’s our chance!” she said. “The vampire’s in there, sleeping. We can kill her right now. You can kill her right now.” 

Diana grinned. Her makeup had gotten smeared, glitter sparkling across her cheek. Her hair, too, was unkempt, stray curls bobbing over her eyes.

“You just have to drive it through her heart. She’s probably going to make a racket, and there’s going to be a lot of blood. But trust me, it’ll work!”

She was wrapping her hand around mine, and leading me up the stairs. I followed along, biting my lip to keep from hissing. 

Diana rubbed at my back, ran her hands along my shoulders, as I stared down into the altar. She leaned over me to throw the white cloth back. 

“She’s totally helpless in this state.”

Eris lay in silent reprieve in a pool of blood. Her face emerged from the surface, still and sleeping. She looked so cold— like a statue. Not even her eyelids twitched behind their faint blue veins.

“Is she—” I winced, nearly coughing. “Awake?”

“Not at all. You could do anything right now, and she’d never know.”

I reached down and fished a strand of hair out of the blood. It squirmed between my fingers, drenched deeply. When released, it plopped back down and sunk into the deep red. Like nothing had been disturbed at all.

Behind me, Diana imitated the move and reached for Eris’s face. Something strange flared inside of me, and I caught her wrist before she could touch the sleeping form.

“Check her mouth,” Diana said, eyeing me. Then, “She’s not going to wake up.”

With my now bloody fingers, I pulled down her bottom lip. White fangs, like mother of pearl, sparkled underneath.

“See?”

My hand didn’t stop moving. I curled it around the base of her neck. I dunked it wrist-deep into the blood and felt her breasts; the push and pull of slimy, cold flesh. Still, she did not wake. She didn’t even seem real— an empty vessel. Was it really so simple, all along?

Finally, I looked into my other hand, at the amateur stake Diana had given me. It would be easy. Finally, something would be easy. But. . .

“Di. . .” I pulled my hand out of the coffin, blood leaking onto the altar. “Why are you doing this?”

Her hands left my shoulders, snaking down my back and leaving me cold. “I’m jealous.”

I dropped the stake.

When I turned around, Diana had already sauntered down the steps. Her dress sparkled as she moved, flashing yellow in the dim candlelight. “You don’t wanna go through with it, do you?”

“It’s just— It feels weird to not say good-bye.”

“You’re so sentimental, L-Lauren.” She stumbled over my name. “She’s evil.”

“And that makes you jealous?”

“What can I say?” Another shrug. “I was so lonely after Eleanor died. And when I went to seek the comfort of my BFF, she was too busy obsessing over the most perfect girl in the world to pay me any mind. I had to do something.”

“You— what did you do?”

“I lied,” Diana said. She ran a sheepish hand through her hair. “A lot. I made up connections that weren’t there. I planted doubts. You bit. It was easy.”

“N-no.” I took a step back, forgetting. My hurt leg slammed against the golden coffin.

“Yeah. Sorry.” She shrugged. “It is how it is.” She slipped her purse from her shoulder. “Did you really think she could kill that many people? But it was cruel of me, in hindsight. There’s just something about trying to destroy, like, the most pure love in the world that makes you gun-shy.”

I froze. “Eris!”

“Shh! What are you—?”

I stumbled down the steps, pushing Diana out of my way. I yelled as loud as my sore throat would allow. “I know what you’re doing! Come out!”

Diana steadied herself against one of the pews. The malice in her expression fell away. “No, L— no, Lauren. It’s just me.”

I ignored her and called for Eris again. 

“This is between us!” My voice echoed across the painted ceiling, us, us, us. . . “Leave her out of this.” 

“Do you really hate me that much?” Diana’s voice quivered. “I mean— I understand. I hate me, too.”

Her bag fell to the floor. I heard it before I saw it— the sudden click of a switchblade. 

“I d-don’t deserve to live.”

“Diana.” I looked straight at her. The blade flashed, held loosely near her thigh. “I don’t know how much control you have, but— if you can—” I took a shaky step forward. “Keep your mouth shut.”

She slapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide, near circles. Before I could try and help, she moved as if yanked, down to the floor. She crawled on all fours up to the altar. I was left standing in the aisle, my vision going fuzzy as I struggled to stay conscious. 

The lights flickered. The shadows cast behind the pillars danced, swirled like smoke. Blackness leaked out from underneath the coffin, pooling around Diana. She was biting into her hand, still holding the knife, her face pressed against the rug.

“Please, please. . .”

From behind the altarpiece, a black cat the size of a large dog slinked out from the shadows. It curled around Diana’s rattling knees and stared me down with familiar green eyes. I was weak, and still overcome with pain. I fell to my knees. 

“Eris. . .”

Her voice echoed across the church. “This is the girl you try and replace me with?”

Diana pulled her hand from her mouth. She did not react to the dark indentations left in her skin. Her face was blank again as she sat up, hands resting on her folded knees. The cat slunk behind her. Its lustrous coat rippled, and from the other side, Eris appeared. 

All illusions were gone. She looked the same as I’d first seen her— when I was almost a baby, barely able to speak, scared and crying in my own bed. Where I was supposed to be safe. 

Her white gown fell over the altar’s steps, her black hair glossy.

“It’s— it’s not like that,” I said. 

Eris hummed. She tilted her head, and long heavy hair cascaded down her shoulder. Her voice was high-pitched and patronizing. “Then what is it like?”

“She’s my friend.”

“Oh, of course.” She grinned. Her face distorted in the dim light, the shape wavering and eerie. “These are the kind of things you do for friends.”

“Eris, please.”

She flicked a finger towards Diana, who responded with marionette-like motions. She raised both arms and pointed the knife blade-first to her own throat. Eris turned to me again, still on the floor.

“Oh, sweetie, get up,” she said. “You must be in a lot of pain.” 

I was, and it was all her fault. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and all I could do was whimper and nod.

“You’re still human,” Eris said, “for now. Mistakes happen. I won’t hold this against you, my love.” She padded down the steps towards me, her feet soundless against the floor. “Just don’t do anything rash, hm?”

“I’m not going to kill myself,” I said. 

“I’ve heard it all before.” She stopped in front of me. Her white shift fanned out, clinging gossamer thin against her skin. “Will you come with me?”

She didn’t say it, but I could feel it in her quietly simmering anger. Or will I have to make you?

I was holding my tie, again, as if I could do anything with it. My hair fell in my eyes. “If you let Diana go.”

“Hm?” Eris turned to check over her shoulder. Diana was still there, her outstretched arms quivering. “Oh, her.” 

She snapped her fingers, then took a step to the side. I couldn’t see Diana at all. 

I was getting desperate. “Please! Wipe her memory, do-do anything you have to, just please, I can’t—”

“Hush, now.” Eris knelt before me, her face engulfing my vision. She pulled me up by the waist and cupped her other hand under my chin. “You talk too much.”

“Do—” My face burned as my weight gave out under me. I was forced to lean against her. I grit my teeth and stared up into her eyes. “Do you agree?”

“Sure, dear.” Eris smiled. “Whatever you say.”

“Then do it,” I said, glaring to keep from crying.

Her face crept down, slowly— before she bit my neck.

It was like a puzzle piece sliding into place, sharp pain slotting perfectly inside me. All those nights of terror and pain keeping me awake— it was preparing me for this feeling. It was almost nostalgic, being paralyzed. Held in the dark, my weak body failing me at all once. I couldn’t move at all; what little I could do was cry out, embarrassed. Eris muttered soothing words into my ear. Strong fingertips pressed into my ribcage.

Her lips followed their way across my cheek until she pulled me into a kiss. When I tried again to pull away, her face pulsed against mine, like a heartbeat, and my mouth was filled with iron.

“Mm—!” I gasped, and some of the blood escaped down my chin. Eris took my jaw and pressed it closed. Her eyes glittered while I quivered with fear and adrenaline. 

“Go on,” she said. “You’re being so good.”

I swallowed.

The pain disappeared. The cold church turned sweltering. The colors were acidic, bleeding into one another, the darkness a warm and welcome embrace. The sour taste turned into cotton candy as it slipped further down my throat.

This must’ve been how Eris felt all the time— buoyant and untethered, like the whole world was an all you can eat buffet. It washed over me, stitched together the bones askew in my leg, the gash in the back of my head. There was no pain anymore— no need for it. Though it was childish, the feeling made me recall being young and imagining a better world— where nothing seemed too absurd. Where you could wish for pink skies and no pets dying and candy for dinner every night, and it all seemed in your grasp, somehow.

She pulled me into a bridal carry, both feet leaving the ground. Tears flowed down my face, now so sensitive it felt like spiders crawling down my cheeks. I held Eris tight.

“I love you, I love you. . .”

Above, the ceiling was spinning. With those eyes I could now see the saints’ faces, their haloes flashing gold.

“And I love you eternally, Ophelia.”

I sniffled. My eyes were still facing the sky. “That’s not my name.”

“What?”

In hindsight, I didn’t know how long I’d been holding the rosary. It must’ve been before Eris had bitten me, the painful rash on my palm keeping me grounded. But it couldn’t have been much earlier, or else she would’ve noticed before I drove the cross into the naked back of her neck. 

“Ahhhh!”

We stumbled back. With my stubborn jaw set, I had nothing to see but Eris’s entire face and the journey it took— from confusion, to anger, to betrayal— ill-fitting, surreal on the form that had haunted my nightmares my entire life.

Her skin hissed, smoke escaping between my fingers. She tried to kick me off, but I hooked both legs around her and clung on. My fingers shifted, allowing part of the beads to slip out while the cross still burned her skin.

“W-why?” she cried.

“Something had to break,” I said. 

I took the other half of the unfurling rosary chain and pulled with both hands. Eris’s soft flesh gave way, a piano wire through cheese.

She was trying to speak, but it came out as nonsense. “But— I—I—I— loved— for— I-I did this a-all— you!”

My teeth rattled. Eris was crying— sobbing while writhing, trying to run. She tried to twist out of my grip to no avail. Nails out, she moved to claw at my face. 

I closed my eyes and bit her hand, but she only kept on pushing, my teeth digging troughs in her skin, knuckles nearly up my throat. With my legs still wrapped around her, I pushed her closer, until our balance began to sway. I let her hurt me, one last time. She was dying, and I had nothing left to lose. We held on.

I hit a vein. Blood splattered the pews, and then my face. It bloomed down her dress as she crumpled. No longer able to stand, we both dropped.

The back of my head hit a pew. Still, even dazed, I splashed my knees through the blood, and stood up. Eris was wrenched upright by the neck, still trying to speak. Bug-eyes bulged and desperate thin hands shook, first attempting to go for the eyes again and— when that clearly failed— cradling my cheeks. Eris moved to speak, but when she opened her mouth, her teeth were red and her tongue bobbed in a puddle of neon blood. 

The last sound she made was a sort of wordless keening, like a kitten mewling for milk, before the rosary finished cleaving her neck in two.

Eris fell against me like a shivering, nervous bride, her pathetic face smashed against my chest. The cross fell to the floor. I hugged her tight, fingers pressed between the sticky ridges of her spine. For a moment, my vision red and my mouth filled with the lingering taste of her, I pretended she was alive and just upset, that I was only trying to help. Her legs twisted at opposite angles, her ankle bones flopping uselessly. 

It’s okay, I thought. I caught you.

I kissed the top of her head and let go. Head and body separated and splashed the aisle.

“Ah—Ah—” 

I clawed at my hair, my body spastic with unspent energy. I looked no better than the dead vampire at my feet, now bubbling into dust between the pews. I was covered in blood down my front and up to my elbows. It was stuck to me forever, staining my chin and between my teeth.

And it wasn’t over yet. When I turned to the altar, Diana was slouched across the steps. Almost elegant, the knife hand lolled onto the floor and blood covered her neck. 

My vision went white. I forgot my surroundings, forgot the blood, forgot Eris. My shoes squealed across the floor, down to her. I kicked the knife away and pulled her into my arms.

I felt her pulse, her hummingbird heartbeat. She was undoubtedly still alive, and still clinging to consciousness. As I tried to pull her upright, her wound welled with blood. I laid her back down, now flat across the runner. Her eyes fluttered, pinned to me.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was raw and weak, barely a whisper. “It was— I couldn’t say no.”

“I understand,” I said, crying again. “I understand. I’m going to call. I’m going to get you—”

“Lauren. . .” Still shaking, she flailed and grabbed my bloody hand. “I might not—”

“Shut up!” I was suddenly fuming. “Don’t— don’t waste your energy saying silly things like—like—”

Her grip tightened. She attempted to swallow, but she only gasped in pain.

“I love you.”

“I know!” I squeezed my eyes shut. I leaned down, over her prone body, grappling her hand with both of mine. “I know. I’m sorry— I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner, I . . .”

When I opened my eyes again, Diana drifted under me, smiling. But her eyelids drooped, something behind them slipping away.

“Stay awake.” I rattled her arm. I pushed her with my knee. “Diana, you can’t— I love you, too! Diana, don’t go to sleep. Diana, you have to— you have to hear me, Di! I love you, I love you—” 

Beep, beep, beep.

They took my vitals, and determined that I shouldn’t be alive.

I couldn’t say I disagreed. Only hours after a body had been found in the school bathroom— and, therefore, the dance canceled— the hospital was made to deal with yet another unspeakable tragedy. Diana was carted off to emergency surgery, and I was left alone.

I hung around, a blood-covered ghoul, near a wall in the shadows until a nurse saw me, ignored my protests that I was fine, and checked my pulse.

Whatever she didn’t find, it was enough to force me into a hospital bed. I was fine, I was fine, I was just here for Diana, how was Diana?— but they got me down and hooked me to this beeping machine anyways.

For hours, I was pulled in and out of awareness of my dim hospital surroundings. I was out when the police came to question me. I felt my soul tugging urgently, trying to escape the back of my head. No, I didn’t remember what happened. No, I didn’t know anything about Bianca. I didn’t see Diana get cut. No, she didn’t do it to herself.

The man standing before me was red, which I didn’t realize people could be. I tried to calmly recite my lies again, but all I did was start crying when whatever was struggling to escape me failed. Then, I cried alone upright in the hospital bed, thin sheets against my bloody skin. The pain fell into place, sizzling beneath whatever cocktail of painkillers they’d given me.

I pulled out the wires that held me down and washed Eris’s blood off my hands in the bathroom. What remained had turned black and brown. When I dared to look in the mirror, what looked back at me was not so quivering and pathetic. My face was ashen white and further blood spilled down my chin. My nose was crooked and my eyes black. I was a wolf.

My back arched at a phantom sensation, a cold finger running down my spine. I left my room to a machine flatlining, my hands still dripping with murky tap water, to find Diana.

She was fast asleep, surrounded by machines that made mine look like nothing. Her mouth lolled open in pained rest. Her skin was gray against her bandages. I dragged a chair forward, so close my knees pressed into the mattress. I reached out, careful not to disturb any wires, and held her hand until morning.

At one point in my vigil, half-asleep, I became aware of another red figure lingering in the corner of my eye. I thought it was a nurse, so I raised my head to tell her to leave us alone.

But there was no one there. 

Beep, beep, beep.

When the sun came, it was like flowers pulled to the surface after a long winter. My foggy consciousness was wrenched aboveground by a set of footsteps whose gait I recognized. A laughing voice echoed down the hall.

“December 22nd, I think. Guess all that apocalypse stuff missed us by a hair, huh?”

Tears welled up in my eyes. “Dad. . .”

My eyes hadn’t left Diana’s bed for hours. She was not quite so stiff anymore. Her legs were curled underneath the cotton sheets.

The yellow walls of the children’s ward gleefully greeted the sunlight. It bathed Diana’s face even through our privacy curtain. It made every mark, every mole on her face stand out in sharp detail. Even with the dark bags under her eyes, the death-like shift in color her skin had taken, the sight of her buoyed what little spirit I had left. I wanted to run my hands over her sleeping face. I wanted to hold her, the girl that I loved.

Before I could try, my chair was knocked back, and I was pulled into a sudden bear hug. 

The nurse came running over. “Sir, please—!”

Dad hefted me off my feet and held me so tight I briefly struggled to breathe. I clung onto his neck to keep from falling as his nervous hands stuttered. He fretted over me, had been worried sick when I didn’t come back home.

“I’m fine, Dad,” I said. “Love you, too.”

Finally, with more coaxing from the nurse, he loosened his arms and let me stand on my own two feet.

He looked like shit, his hair akimbo and still in his pajamas, winter coat unzipped over them. 

“Sweetie, why aren’t you in a bed?”

I looked down at my shirt, blood now dried to brown. “It’s not mine.”

He swept forward and hugged me again, this time squashing my face against his stomach. His hands carded through my hair, and I began to cry all over his Mario shirt.

He paused. “Did I hurt you?”

I couldn’t possibly explain, so I shook my head. 

“I just—” I sniffled. “I missed you so much.”

Soon after, Mrs. Colón arrived, and we were escorted out of the room. Holding Dad’s hand, I wandered down the hall I had met Eris in— for the second time, at least. Ghosts upon ghosts crowded my mind. 

I picked up the pace, and hurried to the concrete stairwell. Early morning light illuminated the heavy dust drifting in the stale air. Dad paused on the stair behind me, unaware of all I was feeling.

“Eris wasn’t at home at all,” he said. “Have you seen her, Sweetie?”

“She’s dead.”

Despite the sunlight, it was as bitterly cold as the outside on the stairwell. I looked up so that it dazzled my eyes. 

I said, “I killed her.”

When I turned, Dad was staring at me. He blinked, but did not move.

“Where?”

I shrugged. “Church.”

“Do you need me to go hide the body?” He took a step towards me.

“There isn’t anything left,” I said. “She— wasn’t human.”

I was staring at his pajama pants, shaking with adrenaline. Oh, how jealous I was of Eris for a moment, for being gone and uncomplicated when I still had to do this— the stupid, the mundane, the blisteringly painful.

My voice broke. “This is where you’re supposed to tell me I’m i-insane.”

He didn’t. I was pulled into a hug so tight my ribs contracted, my feet left the ground. I held on for dear life as he dug his nails into my arm. All around us, it was all hard concrete, cold and sad and gray. I relished the unpleasant feelings that swirled within me, the dread and the winter mood. I was alive.

I was alive, and that meant smelling the hospital antiseptic and the bite of the rock in my shoe. It meant the lingering sludge of blood and skin in my mouth and my dehydration headache. It meant that when Dad released me from the hug, his hands lingered around mine. He lifted up my arm, and turned my wrist up to face the light.

Living was the eyeliner smeared down my face, unhealed and ugly scars. Living was wearing black and running into the fire, if that’s what it took. It meant painful decisions, and the consequences thereof. It meant I had to see him cry.

But I was still standing.

Living was pain, or so they said. And I was a sucker for it. I was going to take it for everything I was worth.