Monday, March 31, 2014

Eleven's Ink on... Letting Go and How Hard it Is To Do.

I often get asked how I feel about one topic or another. I am very opinionated and tend to be a bit more verbose than I should. The fact that I used verbose should be an indicator. The fact that I explained why is just proof beyond proof.

WTF Happened?!

So you just said goodbye to a friend, a lover, an important person in your life, and you're trying to assess the information. You re-read the texts, the FB messages; you grab at all the pieces that fell and try to assemble the puzzle. You think you have the answers, but every answer leads to another question. Did I end it? Did they end it? How did it come to this? You Google search "How to cope with endings" and "How to start anew" simultaneously until you realise that a Netflix Marathon is a hell of a better idea.

It's totally fine. I'm okay, I swear. KILL ME NOW!
You've had your first night's sleep. You probably slept like a baby cause your mind totally warped at the end of the season 3 finale of Dexter. You're most likely groggy and - OMG YOU JUST REMEMBER THAT YOUR RELATIONSHIP/FRIENDSHIP/KINSHIP ENDED. It's fine, you say. You calm yourself down and decide a shower is perfect to wash away the memories. Totally fine, right? Wrong, and cue the thought process: "how the fuck did this happen? Why aren't they texting me? Should I text them? No, no I'm totally fine. Don't cry, don't cry. Smile! Omg I'm crying. No I'm fine!" You basically want to place your own crazy self in an asylum for weeks on weeks to numb out the pain.

But everything was perfect!
You've gathered the puzzle pieces, but the end result does not resemble the picture on the box at all. You've accepted that it's your fault, their fault, your fault, their fault, and now you just want to plump on the couch with jalapeno pizza and forget it all. But you see their face in one of  the jalapeno slices. And the melted cheese reminds you of a steamy night you had with them. Oh and that fucking marinara sauce smells exactly like them!! And you finish by throwing the pizza on the wall and remembering just how magical everything was. The laughter, the excitement, the sharing of stories. What was so horrible about it?!?!?!

I'm the bomb.
You're done agonizing over whose to blame, why you're feeling crazy, and you've removed the rose-coloured glasses and guess what? It's time to take a selfie! You've lost weight, you went to the gym, you've been getting a shit-load of compliments and you're starting to feel awesomazing about yourself. The mission at this point is to cause as much accidents on the road as possible cause you just know people are swervin' and dodgin' over your looks.

BOOM. Explosion!
It's been like three days now and this whole process is amazing. You're glowing, you're flexing your muscles (guys), your pushing up that bra (girls), and you're moving on. Cause you look flawless, right? Wrong. All that excitement has finally fizzled and you're about to explode. This is the part where you throw everything of theirs in the trash, write obscene thoughts down in which you fantasize about murdering the bejesus out of them. You can also punch pillows and shit but for maximum effect, invest in a punching bag.

Should I or shouldn't I, that is the question.
You're passed out in pizza slices with wine and vodka stains all over the god damn floor. You're a mess. You've slept through the last four episodes of Dexter. You haven't showered in well over three days and it's starting to show. You've basically lost all sense of survival; get it together. In your mind, getting it together means accepting that it ended but HELLO, that's not what you want. You desperately search for your cellphone and think you found it when in reality, it's the TV remote. You panic. You NEED to reach them to let them know that it's all a mistake, everything will be okay and let's just forget this happen, k? K.
Yeah, no. Then you realise that this is all one-sided. "What if they don't want the same thing? What if they don't reply? What if they blocked your number? What if they laugh when they see how much you're still caught up?" You look at your phone, you've typed the message already (we're on the same page here, readers. I'm living this - you can't deny it.) and you're thumb is so close to the send button that your fingerprints can basically scratch the surface of your phone. And then you think: "But what if they feel the same? What If they are only waiting for me to write back? Maybe they're just shy or scared of what is going to happen." What to do, right?!

I'll just subtlety let you know I'm still alive. I'll be over here if you change your mind.
I cringe cause I did this. But hey, we're only human right! You've obviously decided NOT to contact the person cause "I'm such a strong individual." The phone is down, but not for long. Instead, you've switched on the Wi-Fi and liked their latest Instagram photo, you poked them on FB, and you shamelessly retweeted their last tweet about popcorn being the best snack out there. You want to tell them you miss them so much but are so afraid of the reaction that you go on this crazy tangent of just creeping the fuck out of them. Don't. Do. This. Go back to Netflix and dirty pizza slices.

Snap back to reality
It's been close to a week by now and you haven't lost all your hair. Your local mall is still up and running. The sky is still blue and Rob Ford is still mayor of Toronto. Clearly, the world didn't end. You decide it's time to shower and shut off Netflix (but omg what will happen in season 8 of Dexter?!?!). You're still talking about them but less frequently. You have occasional bursts of tears and you question absolutely everything. But you've slowly started realising the world outside again. You see people smiling back at you; children waving as you walk by them, head down and solemn. The sun is even peaking to say a short yet welcomed "hello!". You feel like things can get slowly get back to how it was before.

LOL, life's a bitch - it ain't this easy
And then a week and one day passes and you repeat the process. Oh you thought it was over? LOL, life doesn't work that way. If life was easy the saying wouldn't be "Life's a bitch", it would be "Life's a slut." But it ain't easy. There is no recipe for success, or shortcuts to happiness. You have to balance yourself out again and it can take time. So take it, enjoy it, live it. Cry it out, talk it out, laugh it out. The worst thing you can do is censor your emotions for whatever reason: "Because guys don't cry." "Because I want to show him I'm a lady." "Because I don't want them to see me weep." The relationship is over, so worry about yourself and what you have to do to move on and be happy. Life is short, love again.

There is not but. There is just life and their is time. And both need you right now. It's tempting as fuck to drop everything and rekindle but what if it is worst? What if the person moved on already? What if you're already a memory? Sure it could also be: What if they miss me too? What if they are waiting for my call? But the key words here are: What if?

You don't know. You can't know. It's up to you to decide if you want to put yourself out there or not and risk getting hurt again. It can also be the complete opposite and you might find them responsive to your request. Take a chance if you want. Or don't if that is what you choose. It's a personal decision but hopefully you found laughter and a bit of truth in this blog post. It definitely made me feel better.

If you need to talk or feel alone and have no one to talk to, feel free to contact me. You can find me on facebook by clicking the link on the right or on twitter at @Elevensink or on instagram at @K_kiddo86. You can also leave a comment on here.

Candles are out,
Eleven's Ink.

Monday, March 10, 2014

Eleven's Ink on...Awesomeness!

I often get asked how I feel about one topic or another. I am very opinionated and tend to be a bit more verbose than I should. The fact that I used verbose should be an indicator. The fact that I explained why is just proof beyond proof.


It takes a lot for me to qualify someone as being genuinely "awesome". There is a trial part where I generally just groove around someone to get a sense of how their fun gravitates around their logic. It's all about balance really: equal parts intelligence, equal parts humour. You need to have both to be worthy of this title.


Once the X is matched neatly with the Y and a yingyang of LAUGHS! and BRAINS! is created, that is when you start to see the foundation of awesomeness. It's such a fantastic event to witness, this creation of sheer awesomeness. I suggest you bring sunglasses and a bit of wine along for the ride. You've been warned.

The best part of this trifecta is, you gots it baby, the climax! That is when you see the "ok i'm cool" blossom into "Move bitch, i'm awesome". Seeing that state progress in its natural habitat is rare and should be taken advantage of. Film it, snap a picture - hey draw the fucking event if you have Picasso's talents! Don't have talent? Smudge paint on a canvas like a three year old and call it art. As long as you remember vividly the details of witnessing such perfection.


Once you've explored the universe of awesomeness, assured it's capabilities of life-support, and landed on Planet Fuck Yeah!, then you are good to remove gear and appreciate the land of awesome. Feel the earth, breathe in the air, run through the meadows, and swim across those oceans of joy and excitement. Be happy that you landed on a planet that welcomes your kind. Be awesome!

Not feeling awesome today? Think of good memories, good people, good food. Think about how awesome you are every other day and how today is going to be jealous. You don't want that. So be awesome again!

Candles are out,
Eleven's Ink

Friday, January 24, 2014

The Infected: Tokyo Kin (3)

three: doctor, doctor

My gaze lingers for a few minutes, my eyes drawn to the black and red content of the emptied tea pouch. My mind drifts back to last night, when Grams visited me in my sleep to warn me. So much has happened lately that I don't know if I should trust my mind or not.

I'm suddenly pulled back to reality when I hear a soft knock at the door. That must be the good doctor, I say to myself. I throw some unused tissue in the trash bin to cover up the teabag and then make my way to the door, when I hear a second, more urgent knock.

"Are you in there, Charlotte? It's Dr. Chatterjee!" He yells, a lot louder than what is necessary.

I smirk and wait at the door a few seconds longer. I like to test this man's patience. I finally relinquish and open the door wide, greeting the doctor with a smile worthy of an Oscar nomination.

"You didn't have to come," I tell him, and make my way towards the living room, leaving the doctor at the door.

"Your mother is worried about you, Charlotte." Dr. Malik Chatterjee is my mother's pet. She would ask him to jump off a bridge and he wouldn't even question her loyalty. I swear he's brainwashed.

"My mother worries for nothing. She should be worrying about what you and Aunt Lucy are sneaking behind her back." I bark, jumping on the couch. Neither of them had spoken to me about that mysterious packaged I handed over to Malik.

I hear him sigh and he finally lets himself in and sits down across from me, on my mother's favourite blue loveseat.

"What makes you say that, Charlotte?" He asks me and I can smell that condescending tone escape his mouth. The stench lingers around me and before long I am walking back towards the door.

"About my mother worrying for nothing," I turn the knob, "or the secret coup you and my aunt have set up? Cause I've just been feeling a bit under the weather but everything..." I open the door and Dr. Chatterjee understands that I want him to leave. "Everything is fine."

He walks up towards me and rests those old, silk-blue eyes on my own and if it wasn't for the glimmer in the crook of his pupil, I would have guessed he didn't like me. He was cold with me the moment I arrived in Tokyo a year ago. And only on rare occasions would I be treated to a smile or a warm hand shake from the doctor. He kept his distances and I won't lie, I preferred it that way.

"If there is anything bothering you again, you can call me directly." He pinched his lips togheter and I could almost swear he wanted to say something else. Alas, he only shook his head and stepped beside me to walk out my one-bedroom apartment.

I closed the massive oak door behind him and rested my back on the edged wood. I let out a sigh of relief and then continued to empty the packs of teabags my mom had left me. And as I emptied them out I remembered what Grams had told me. And then I remembered the boy from the hallway.

Felix. Felix Holloway.

The Rising: The Complete Blog Story




Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.

click on the chapter title to read.
Chapter 1: Dark Paradise
Chapter 2: Elvis
Chapter 3: Find My Own  Way
Chapter 4: Last Girl On Earth
Chapter 5: My Best Days
Chapter 6: Teenage Wasteland
Chapter 7: All You Need
Chapter 8: You And Me
Candles are out,
Eleven's Ink.

Monday, January 13, 2014

The Infected: Tokyo Kin (2)

two: a visit from home

I wake up abruptly, my hair plastered to my face with sweat. I turn over and check the clock - 5H23. My bedroom is dark and for some odd reason, I feel a presence watching me. Instinctively, I reach over to switch on the lamp but find it no use - the power seems to have been cut. With the feeling of being observed growing stronger, I pull up my blankets to my nose and close my eyes.

Nobody is here. It is safe, I say to myself. I open my eyes and see someone standing at the foot of my bed, looking down on me. The darkness prevents me from identifying the stranger and for some reason, I'm not frightened of the presence now that I've seen it. Because although it is dark and my tired eyes can barely see, I recognize the smell. It's Grams.

"Charlie," She says with such comfort and reassurance in her tone, "don't be blinded by the bag your mother put over your head. You have to remember what happened yesterday. You need to find him, Charlie. Don't drink the tea, baby. You need to stay focus. You need to wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP!"

Just then the ghost of Grams dissapeared and the bed started to shake, but not a soft raddle. I shut my eyes and begin to scream as loud as I can. A tender voice keeps repeating "wake up" over and over again. It's like a wild laugh of a hyena creeping all around me. Nausea soon invades me and I open my eyes and spot my mother standing there as I cripple over the edge of the bed and vomit at her feet.

"That's it, I'm calling Dr. Chatterjee. That's twice now you've done that." My mother, Sarabeth Olsen, says as she steps away from the puddle of my purge. "What is going on Charlotte?"

I roll back onto my back and look at my mom; her sad, worried face burried in the phone.

"I'm okay, mom." I whisper, barely able to speak. I know I am not okay but I don't want to see the doctor. He gives me the creeps.

She shakes her head and cocks her eyebrow, clearly not listening to what I want. "Oh, Malik, I hope I wasn't bothering you. Yes, I know how important it -" She looks in my direction and smiles," Yes, i'm with Charlotte - that's the reason why I am calling. I think she's sick." She says the last word differently, and even looks away from me. "Okay, I'll let her know. Thank you, Malik." She hangs up the phone and walks back towards the bed with some cleaning products and rags, ready to clean up the mess I just made.

"Mom, I don't want to see the doctor. I was just feeling dizzy."

"I don't want to hear it, Charlotte. Our community is not completely safe from the infection and until then we have to remain cautious." She finishes up cleaning the floor and then throws everything in the garbage by my door. Before she leaves, my mother comes back to my bed and kisses me on the forehead. "I just want you to be safe. Dr. Chatterjee will stop by soon and before then I want you to make yourself some tea. I brought some fresh bags and there's cream in the refrigerator." She walks towards the door and smiles at me. "I love you, Charlie."

I smile back and say the same to her. She closes the door and I immediately pull the blankets off me and run towards the kitchenette in my bachelor appartment. I rip open the bag of tea and empty all of it in the garbage. I can't explain why but I believe what happened with Grams was real.

Something just doesn't feel right.

The Infected: Tokyo Kin (1)

Hey readers!

I've been busy writing a short story for publication last month and had no choice but to put The Infected: Tokyo Kin on the backburner for a while. But it's back!

Without further ado, here's the first chapter of The Infected: Tokyo Kin. Enjoy!

one: a new encounter

The corridor is vacant, everyone having retreated to their rooms when the sun went down a few hours ago. I would be nestled in my bed too had it not been for aunt Lucy, who needed me to bring an important package to Dr. Chatterjee. Walking these corridors alone at night didn't scare me anymore, knowing how well protected the fourth quadrant was. It housed all of the medical personel and reasearch equipment - something too valuable for my mother to keep unprotected.

I arrived at the doctors room and knocked three times. I heard movement on the other side and then suddenly the door swung open, the small, Indian doctor greeting me with his trademark smile. He looked over his glasses and invited me in.

"How are you, Charlie?" He asks, and I follow him into the kitchen. "Want some tea?"

"I'm fine, doctor. And no thanks, I've had my cup before bed already." I smile and hand him the package. His eyebrows arch with excitement and some curiousity. He seems intrigued by what I just gave him.

"Lucy says you're expecting this?" I say, trying to formulate it into a question. They're always planning and plotting against the infection and I am always kept in the dark about things. Lucy was buzzing with excitement when she gave me the package and now the good doctor seems taken aback that I am handing this to him. Whatever is inside it must hold tremendous power.

"Yes, yes. Indeed. Well, time for bed I would say!" He places the package on the counter and whisks me towards the door. "Give thanks to your aunt for me."

I turn to say goodbye but Dr. Chatterjee has already closed the door. I sigh and start walking down the lengthy corridor towards the elevators. That thought, of using an elevator, still rattles my brain. I'm still adjusting to our new life here in Tokyo, with housing and schooling, combat training and medical school. It just all feels so surreal. I'm so grateful that -

"Whoa, watch where you're going!"

I feel something wet on my chest and look up to see a boy, about my age, holding what seems to be an empty cup of tea. I figure that is what's drenching my shirt.

"I'm so sorry! I was lost in my thoughts." I smile awkwardly.

He smirks and shrugs. "It's no problem, I'll just make myself some more. I've never seen you around here, are you new to quadrant four?" He asks, then shoots me a smile. I hadn't noticed until now just how good-looking he was. I have a soft spot for tall guys with messy hair.

"Oh, no - I was just dropping off something...for a friend...over there..." I point towards the doctor's room, feeling silly already for doing so. I'm being quite the dork right now.

He chuckles and then points back to the last door on the right. "I'm over there. I mean, if ever you want to come visit?" He blushes.

"That sounds like fun." I answer, feeling my cheeks getting hotter and most likely turning as red as a ripe cherry. "I have to go back to my quadrant, though. Next time I stop by I'll come knock."

I turn towards the elevators but remember I don't even know his name. I bolt around and call out just before he steps inside his appartment. "Hey! I didn't get your name?"

He smiles. "I'm Felix. Felix Holloway."

Man, even his name is dreamy. "Nice to meet you, Felix. I'm Charlotte."

Tuesday, November 05, 2013

The Rising | Chapter Eight


Got a light in your eyes, I can see it
Look into my mind to believe it
-Lana Del Rey

Denson and I are sitting in the living room, the soft glow of the burning logs in the fireplace setting the tone for our conversation. Louis' bright red firetruck rests lazily on the coffee table. The three men who accompany him are outside the door, presumably to keep watch - although I know they are there to prevent me from leaving.

I shift in my seat, my eyes diverting back to Elvis' dark corner; the one he always emerges from. Denson takes a sip from a metal canister and then slips it back into a pouch in his black jacket. The residue leaves a red tint on his lips. He leans back and examines me.

"So how long have you been out here, Katherine?" He asks, my name sounding so foreign on his tongue.

"I want to know where Phillip is." I answer coldly, putting extra emphasis on the little boy's name.

"I can't answer that question, Katherine, because I don't know who Phillip is." Denson says, unfolding his arms from his chest and laying them on the armrest. "Why don't you tell me?"

"He's the boy that was with me. I heard him screaming upstairs!" I jump from my seat but Denson doesn't move, doesn't even seem threatened by me. "What did you guys do to him?"

He nods his head and then looks up at me. "All you had to do was say that Phillip is the boy upstairs." Denson smiles and gets up from the chair. My heart stops and without thinking, I grab onto the man's outstretched hand.

"I want to see him! He's all I have, I need to see him" I say through tears and sobs. In this new world, all I had were those who stuck by me. Maggie. Phillip. They are all that matters and I want them by my side again. I can't walk this wasteland without them. "What did you do to him?!" I  scream, letting go of Denson's hand and backing away.

Through the strands of dirty hair and with tears fogging my view, I spot Elvis standing still behind Denson.

"Elvis!" I run to him and fall on my knees in front of him, not unlike a worshipper of Christ. "Please help me! Please!" I beg like a child, grabbing and pulling frantically on his crisp, white jumpsuit. The King. He stands so proud, looking down at me with such sorrow and sadness. But he doesn't say a word. I confided in him all these times and now he stands in front of me in my darkest hour and he doesn't say a peep. Not a word.

Denson creeps in behind me and rests his hand on my shoulder. I snap around, expecting him to hit me or tie me up but he only carries the same look as Elvis in his eyes. He pities me.

"Don't look at me like that!" I yell, getting to my feet and facing Denson. I can barely recognize my own voice. I feel something stir in the pit of my stomach. Something weird is going on and it is scaring the fuck out of me.

"There's nobody there, Katherine."

"SHUT UP!" I clench my fists and I can feel all of the muscles in my body tense up like a steak does when you cook it too quickly. I'm heating up, I can feel the fire burning in the pit of my stomach like an insatiable hunger.

"Katherine - You have to calm down!" Denson says, his arms extended out in front of him like a negotiator. As if I was the one scaring him. He came into MY cabin and changed MY world. He had no right. "When's the last time you've had some, Katherine? You need - "

"You did this!" I bark through barred teeth, spitting like a mad dog. "You took Maggie! You hurt Phillip!" I grab the wooden table that sits between the chairs and swing it at Denson. The red firetruck falls to the floor and shatters. I run towards the staircase, towards Phillip.


I make the landing and turn left into Maggie and I's bedroom. The shutters are open again and there's a warm breeze coming in from the barren wasteland. My eyes scan the room until they rest on Phillip, lying on his back on my bed. I run to his side and I kneel down besides the bed.

"Oh Phillip..." He's so pale. I run a hand in his untidy hair and gently tap on his cheeks. I want a response. I want him to open his eyes. "Phillip!" Move. Breath. Phillip, why won't you move.

And then Denson's voice echoes behind me. "He's dead, Katherine. So is she."

Dead? She? But...I look over to Maggie's bed and find it with her lying in it. Still and peaceful. And pale. As if she had been drained of her blood.

"Maggie!" I can't stop crying and can barely say her name. Gooseflesh run along the sides of my arm like wild horses chasing after game. I go to her side and lay down beside her. I brush a few white hairs away from her eyes and seeing her makes me smile. She's finally back. I lose myself to the blissful feeling that rushes inside me at the sight of Maggie and completely forget that Denson is here. That Phillip is dead. That Maggie is dead.

"They're..." I turn towards Denson, "...dead?" I say the words but I can't bring myself to believe them. It can't be. I must have been poisoned by the air outside. That must be it. "I'm hallucinating," I whisper it, almost to myself. I run my hand through my hair, tugging at it just a bit to make sure I'm not dreaming.

Denson snickers and cocks his eyebrow. "That's funny."

"What did you say?"

"Oh, I just said how funny your last comment was. You see, we've been watching this place for weeks now, Katherine, and do you know what we saw a lot of? We saw a lot of you talking with nobody -"

He keeps talking but I don't hear him. I hear Louis, laughing because we just surprised him on his sixth birthday...


"Happy birthday Louis!" I say, kneeling down to his height. He smiles as I hand him his present.

"What is it?" He asks, unable to remain calm.

"Open it and see!"

Louis drops to the floor with the box in front of him and proceeds to tear at the wrapping paper. I laugh while mom takes a polaroid shot of the moment Louis sees the red firetruck. He squeals and jumps in my arms.

"Thank you! Thank you!"

Louis' tight embrace leaves me almost breathless but I manage to say: "I'm glad you like it!"

Mom walks into the living room with my other brother beside her. He's always beside her. "Okay now it's Phillip's turn to give you his present. Go on, Phillip." My mom says, whisking my brother towards Louis.

Just as Phillip hands his present to Louis, my dad walks in the living room with the phone in his hands. "It's for you." He says, slurring his words. He'd obviously been drinking. Louis, Phillip, and I stop what we're doing to watch.

Mom gives him the evil eye and grabs the phone. "Hello. Oh, hi Maggie. You still picking up the kids tonight? Great. See you soon." She hangs up, and all three of us are looking at her.

"Don't all look so excited." She says sarcastically. "I thought you loved spending time with Granma?"

"We do," Phillip says and turns towards me, blood dripping from his mouth. "It's just that Katherine's going to kill her. And then she's going to kill me."

I go to shout, to say something but I find my voice lost. The room starts to spin and my vision becomes blurry as if I was the one drunk. Mom goes out of focus and I stumble forward and fall onto the wood floor, right at Denson's feet.

I roll over and crawl towards the wall. My stomach churns and I feel like I'm going to vomit. I lean against the wall and tuck my knees in.

"What just happened..." I say, shaking all over, from within.

Denson inches forward, excitement in his eyes. "Did you just remember your old life?"

"Yes." I answer calmly. I'm in shock; This isn't making any sense. They're not my family. We just met. "I didn't kill them! He says I did, but I didn't. I couldn't." I look over at the beds where they lay quiet and still as stars in the night's sky.

"You did kill them Katherine," Denson says as he approaches me. His words stab me in the heart. I look up at him and I don't see malice in his eyes, but rather concern. "When we found this cabin two weeks ago they were already dead. You went out exploring one day and we searched the place, found these two bodies. They were your family, am I correct? Blood had been drained from both their bodies and that's when we knew." His eyes meet mine and a smirk appears on his face.

"That's when you knew what?" I say, forcing the words out because I'm starting to figure it out. All of those memories I've supressed are all coming back to me in rapid, succesive flashes.

Granma Maggie, picking us up at home. We had to leave Louis because he had eaten too much cake and wasn't feeling well. Before leaving, he had handed me his firetruck. Then the Great Shake happened while we were on a long deserted stretch of highway. The earth shook and cracked all around us. We were safe on what we later called Highway Island. We were surrounded by fissures and fountains of lava. All we could see for miles was darkness and death. All we had was the car and the little food that was in it. After a few days we had to leave. And that's when we encountered the ghostly figures for the first time.

They were just like us in appearance but they were also shadows, unable to walk in our world as they were still bound to the one they called home. At first they stayed away from us and as we trekked our way over and around the new landscaped of our Earth, they slowly started approaching us. A month after the Great Shake, we were attacked in the night. I was attacked.

When I woke I was different. I felt a tightening in my stomach and had sudden urges to feed an ever growing appetite. It was devouring me from the inside. Granma Maggie, Phillip, and I kept on walking and they were oblivious of what had happened to me. On the outside I hadn't changed, but something within me had.

Several days later we found the cabin. We made good of the cans and dried food we found. I ate and I ate but still that tight pressure in my stomach continued to grow. One day, Phillip was sleeping and I was arguing with Maggie downstairs. I can't remember what happened that made me snap but I grabbed the frying pan and smacked it across her head. I cried. I hated myself as I saw the pool of blood forming around her head. The smell of it was intoxicating. My nostrils flared and I felt my stomach tighten like never before. I was so hungry.

"STOP IT!" I yell, zoning back to reality, back to now with Denson. He's looking at me again with that strange expression. "What is it you knew, Denson? What did I do?"

"You and me, we're the same Katherine." He says, smiling. "We're vampires."

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