Tragic notion. ᴛᴡɪʟɪɢʜᴛ

ᴘᴀɢᴇ 1

"What could one more splash of blood mean to you?"

1.

S O N Y A Black stared out the passenger window, watching the dense forest stretch on, the thick underbrush cloaked in mist. Deer darted from their hiding spots, grazing quietly under the cover of dark green foliage. The scent of fresh pine and decaying leaves filled the air as the rain tapped softly against the glass.

The world outside felt distant, like a dream. The gray sky above seemed to swallow the day whole, and for a moment, Sonya felt comforted by the melancholy of it all. But there was also a deep ache in her chest, a longing to escape, to run through the forest and disappear. Her parents had been gone for less than three weeks, taken by a violent, senseless act.

It wasn't just a break-in gone wrong. Sonya knew the truth. It was vampires. They came in the dead of night, invisible and swift, striking with cruelty. They didn't kill her parents quickly. No, they let them suffer, before burning the house to the ground.

The memory hit her like a slap to the face—thick smoke billowing from the flames, her screams echoing as she tried, futilely, to save them. The fire consumed everything, devouring her world in an instant.

"Sweetie, we're here," her Aunt Chepi's voice broke through Sonya's spiraling thoughts. She turned to find Chepi's sad smile. "C'mon, kiddo," she said, opening the car door. Sonya could see the sorrow mirrored in her aunt's brown eyes—eyes that were too much like her own.

Chepi gently caressed her cheek, offering comfort as she patted her leg. "Let's get you inside."

Sonya followed her aunt out of the car, her gaze sweeping over the house. It was a faded gray, the panels streaked with grime that the rain slowly washed away. A small window on the second floor stared out over the gravel driveway, its glass slightly fogged. Behind the house, the forest loomed, as if protecting the space from the outside world. The plants that had started to grow around the house seemed to encroach upon it, nature reclaiming what it had lost.

As Sonya stepped onto the porch, it creaked beneath her weight. The door groaned as it opened, revealing a home filled with half-unpacked boxes and a sense of untidiness that felt almost familiar. Chepi led her upstairs to her new room.

Sonya felt a fleeting sense of relief when she saw that some of her boxes had already been unpacked. The room was small but cozy, with a bay window overlooking the dense forest. The soft gray clouds hung heavy in the sky, promising more rain.

"Do you like it, dear?" Chepi asked, her hands resting gently on Sonya's shoulders as she looked around. Her expression faltered when she noticed the dust collecting on the boxes in the corner. "I'll clean that up later."

"It's great, Aunt Chepi," Sonya replied, her voice soft as she turned in her aunt's arms to offer a quick hug. Chepi's face lit up, her smile wide and warm. "Great! I'm going to order pizza," she announced before rushing out of the room.

Sonya sank into the bay window seat, her gaze lost in the gray world outside. She loved her aunt, but a part of her longed for the comfort of her parents. The house felt foreign now. La Push was a place she used to visit often, but as she grew older, she distanced herself. Now that she was back, living here with Chepi felt like a strange, almost guilty decision. Chepi had never had children of her own, and Sonya remembered the pain her aunt had gone through when her husband had cheated on her. It was something Sonya had never fully understood, but she could still recall the tears her aunt had shed, leaning on her mother for support.

Now, it was just her and Chepi. Sonya could barely feel the emptiness of the house, but inside, she ached.

The word home stabbed through her chest. Home, with her parents, with the love they shared. A small family, full of warmth. She'd always known they were inseparable. It was the kind of love Sonya had always admired—until it became the very thing that tore them apart. The night of the fire, when her mother had gotten out safely, but then realized her father was still inside. She had run back into the flames, despite Sonya's desperate pleas for her to stay.

Now Sonya was alone. A broken child, lost in a world without her parents.

A chill ran through her, and her gaze snapped to the window when she heard the distant rumble of a vehicle. A laugh drifted on the wind, followed by voices. Sonya hesitated before moving toward the door.

"Wow, you've grown, kiddo!" an older man's voice boomed as Sonya peeked outside. He sat in a wheelchair, his long hair braided, a broad smile on his face.

"Uncle Billy?" Sonya asked, her voice uncertain. The last time she saw him, she was eleven.

"Yup! You remember Jacob, right?" Billy chuckled, nodding toward a boy standing beside him—Jacob, her cousin. He had grown taller, his dark hair falling in waves around his face, and he grinned at her.

Sonya barely managed a small smile before Jacob waved back.

"Sonya, why don't you bring Jacob up to your room?" Aunt Chepi suggested, rolling Billy into the house.

Sonya nodded, though her heart was heavy. She held the door open for Jacob and led him upstairs.

"It's, uh, not much," Sonya muttered as she shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets.

"It's great," Jacob grinned, flopping onto her bed as he tossed a baseball in the air. "Listen, I'm sorry about your parents."

"Thanks," Sonya replied, her voice tight. Her throat burned as she fought back the tears.

"Aunt Chepi says you're coming to my school," Jacob said, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah," Sonya murmured. The thought of starting over at a new school made her feel even more isolated. She'd miss the people she could trust back home, though they were few.

"You'll like it. I can introduce you to my friends," Jacob added eagerly.

"Your friends?" Sonya raised an eyebrow, clearly uninterested. She didn't want to make friends—she just wanted to be left alone.

Jacob seemed to notice the shift in her mood and softened his tone. "Don't worry. Everyone's nice."

Sonya didn't respond. The truth was, she didn't care. She just wanted the world to stop spinning long enough for her to catch her breath.