𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐙𝐙 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒, like a swarm of bees trapped in my skull. Light stabbed through the thin curtains, right into my eyes, making my pounding headache ten times worse. I groaned and sat up, my back aching from what I quickly realized was a cold, hard floor. The room smelled faintly of stale cigarettes, whiskey, and cheap cleaning supplies. As I rubbed my temples, trying to pull the pieces together, the dull throb in my cheek and the sting of a split lip told me all I needed to know. I'd been in a fight. Again.
The memories came in fragments, like shards of glass cutting through a fog. I'd finished a hunt—something about a vampire out in Nebraska. Vanessa had been back at the motel I'd dumped her in for the summer, probably watching old reruns or reading books she brought along. I hadn't planned on being gone long, but one thing led to another, and I found myself in a bar. Heavy metal on the speakers, a haze of cigarette smoke, and the burn of cheap whiskey sliding down my throat. After that? Nothing. Just darkness. And now this mess.
I glanced around the room. This place was sterile, generic, like every other room I'd ever crashed in during my years on the road. My head spun as I stood, gripping the edge of a table for balance. The buzzing wasn't going away. My stomach churned, half from the hangover and half from the gnawing thought in the back of my mind: Where's Vanessa?
I'd told myself I was giving her a break, letting her have a quiet summer while I handled jobs on my own. I knew hunting wasn't the life she wanted, not really. I saw the way she looked at me when I told her she had to help me on the hunt, the few times she had to get her hands dirty because I fucked up. It wasn't pride or admiration—it was something closer to pity. Or disgust. Maybe both. I thought leaving her behind would give her some space, a chance to breathe. Truth is, I probably just wanted to drink without her judging eyes watching me.
