𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥.
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In a world where control is everything, Evelyn is about to lose it all.
Plunged into a downward spiral, she discovers that her carefull...
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Rage.
One of the worst emotions anyone can ever feel. The only burning feeling I can possibly feel at the moment is rage. Excruciating, blazing rage. Being a vampire makes my rage a hundred percent more intense than humans.
But this feels different. Maybe something else is wrong with me.
I made a promise to Ollie. To myself. Keep my humanity and deal with the pain. I mean, I probably deserve it anyway.
I want to make sure my father wishes he were mortal. And I will stick to that goal.
It's what Oliver would've wanted, I tell myself everyday. Every. Single. Day.
I've already run out of my spiritual plane herbs, and I don't remember the ingredients to make it. I could use my psychotropic herbs, but I won't see him. It shows me what I want to see, what my brain wants me to see.
It's bad enough I turned into a psycho killer. I don't need to be seen as a crazy blonde who loses the people she cares about, because she can't ever think things through.
First Quinn, then Ady, and now, Oliver. Hell, even Katherine and Kai. They've been MIA for weeks.
It's been an entire month since he died. I've been dealing with the pain and guilt for an entire month. Last time, I dealt with it for not even a day before I shut it off.
And look where that got you, my subconscious tells me.
I'm proud of myself. I've gone this long without turning it off.
Most of my days are spent in my room, sulking at my ceiling. No one knows that I cry myself to sleep or just lie emotionlessly in bed, dry of tears to cry. I cut back on my feeding, I cut back on my magic. I've only used my magic on my father or to cloak myself. I don't need my family finding out what I do.
At night, I swear I see things. I always think it's Ady or Quinn or Ollie, but they're dead. They're at peace. But they died too early.
My mind haunts me twenty-four seven. Voices speak all the time, telling me all these horrible things, reminding me of what I've done, telling me what a monster I am. Telling me what I should do. To myself. To people.
Mostly myself.
I am a monster, I won't lie. I kill, I hurt. I am nothing but pain and agony. Oliver's probably glad he doesn't have to deal with me anymore. I'm fine with that. I deserve it.
"Fight, fight, fight!" The crowd chants, cutting off my thoughts. I roundhouse kick the tall, built dude — he's kinda good looking with brown hair and, from what I can tell, brown eyes — and he hits one side of the ring. I stand opposite, holding the wooden staff in my hand and twisting it.
This is what I do in my daytime. It helps with my anger.
The guy stands up and picks his wooden staff off the floor. His grip tightens on it and I smirk. "Come at me." I taunt, my voice coming out breathless.
