ONLY YOU

one - the attack

Ever since I lost my parents in an explosion, I have felt odd.

There seems to be a thickness to my skin, which only serves to make me feel numb and dissociated. High school had been fun at first. Prior to my parents' deaths, I excelled in all my classes and I had plenty of friends. But after the incident, and after the thickness struck me, I distanced myself from all the happy happenings. Now I walk the hallways alone. I fail all of my classes. And I neglect every inch of myself.

My lips are dry and crusty. I apply chapstick to them during Algebra, my only attempt at self-care, and try to ignore the rest of my face in the reflection of my compact mirror. I slide it away, and then, suddenly feeling self-conscious, I tug my sleeves over my hands, fold my arms over themselves, and rest my chin in my forearms. My desk is littered with scratches and doodles. Evidence of my constant boredom and misery.

Mr. Wood talks to the class about the equation on the board; something about polynomials and using distributive properties. My notebook is open on a blank page. All I have written is my name at the top:

Rose Mediano

It's based off of one of my doodles; the shape of a heart made out of barbed wire. Whenever my aunt sees it, I try to make it out like I draw it on every day. I look at it now while I head out the classroom, still fascinated by it. Suddenly I'm slung forward, and I check to see who has barged past me. It's my old best friend, Willow Perez. Ever since we've turned eleventh grade, she has taken a strong dislike toward me. Dressed in a candy-pink top and short jean shorts, she tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder and sneers at me. Following behind her are her new followers, Edith and Bella. I hate them. I glare at them, but keep going.

The only thing that has been consistent in my life is my boyfriend, Jared. He's been my only ally since the passing of my mom and dad, and a relationship grew from that friendship. It has been seven months since we started dating, and I don't know how to tell him I want to end it. I see him as just a friend. I think going into the relationship, I mistook my feelings for something more.

I spot Jared now hurrying toward me. He's about my height, with curly red hair, and dimples. He's always wearing the same Metallica t-shirt. He's carrying his skateboard, as he always does, and he high fives me before pulling me into a hug.

'Hey, Rose, how was algebra?'

I'm stiff in his arms. 'Terrible,' I reply. I can't even muster a smile anymore.

'Want to come over today?' he asks. 'I've got a new videogame.'

'What is it?' I ask, feeling guilty already because I don't want to go to his house.

'It's got a lot of vampires in it, and a lot of guns.' He does his best to hold me while we walk to the exit of the building. I feel awkward in his arms. Up ahead I see Willow and her friends. They're laughing about something. Willow runs her fingers through her short, blonde hair. My hair is the complete opposite; it's long and dead and mousy brown. I like to keep it long so I can hide my face behind it. It sits limp and knotty down my back, reaching my bottom. My aunt begs me to get it cut, but I can't stand the idea of it. I haven't cut my hair since Mom and Dad.

Jared catches one of my strands and curls it around his finger. 'Rose, are you listening to me?'

I blink. 'Oh sorry.' I had zoned out. I inhale, bringing myself back to reality. 'I can't come over tonight. I've got a bunch of homework to do. Maybe tomorrow?'

'You said that yesterday,' he cries, laughing.

'I know.' I cringe at my mistake. 'I just don't have time right now.'

'At least let me walk you home,' Jared says, releasing my hair and cupping my shoulder. He's always touching me. It seemed affectionate at first, but now it's just possessive.

'It's cool. I can walk myself home.'

He looks uncertain, but says nothing as we head out.

As we reach the intersection that divides our blocks, I wave a small goodbye while he heads in the opposite direction. He does a short run, and then drops his skateboard on the floor, slapping his sneakers on top and rolling off. I hug myself as I head off, the only one who lives down my street in my rotten neighborhood. I don't live in the best part of town. As I walk farther away from the school (which is just an industrial-looking jail) the sidewalk becomes more cracked and holey. The trees here are dead; the branches all twisted like broken fingers. The houses are spaced out more, divided by dirty alleys full of stray cats and over-flowing dumpsters.

The houses are beaten down. One screen door flaps back and forth in the wind, making a horrible, high-pitched slapping noise. The sky above me rumbles like it's hungry. The first drop of rain hits my cheek. There's been a lot more storms recently, and this is the start of another one.

The gray clouds collect in the sky, creating one solid color of darkness, and more raindrops hit my head. I don't have an umbrella or a hood on my jacket. Still, I let the rain fall, not bothering to rush back to my house. If I get wet, who cares? Nothing matters much anyway.

I have to cut through one of the alleys to get to my house; I always take this route, but I like it less and less by how isolating it makes me feel. Dogs bark in the distance; there's a cop siren close by.

In my thin clothes, I suddenly feel vulnerable – and someone is staring at me.

I stop walking and glance back.

There's nobody there.

I keep going; I'm shivering from fear, not from the cold.

Someone is watching me.

I stop and glance back again. This time I freeze. The raindrops catch in my eyelashes. There's a guy standing at the end of the alleyway, dressed in dark clothes. I can't really make out his face. He stands tall and straight, with his feet positioned outward. I watch him watching me. I swallow. There's a huge lump of fear stuck in my throat. I wait for him to do something. Another rumble from the sky. A flash of lightning. In that flash, something changes in his body, and he suddenly breaks into a sprint.

He's running toward me!

I bolt for it, hair flying over my shoulders as I speed toward the end of the alleyway. The area is bordered on one side by chain-link fences and neglected back yards. On the other side is just one long wall. Just before I reach the end, the guy tackles me to the ground. My backpack is flung off my shoulders, and I'm turned over, my legs spread apart while he pushes himself between them. He holds both my shoulders down and glares into my eyes.

He has red eyes!

I scream.

He's wearing his black hood up, and all I can see is his pale face and long dark hair covering his forehead. He's young, like me; maybe a couple years older than me. He grins at me with his white, straight teeth, and fangs grow! I shriek harder. He covers my mouth, lowers his lips to my neck, and I shut my eyes tight, waiting for the pain.

It doesn't come.

I open my eyes and find him still staring down at me.

'Hi,' he says in an unusually deep voice.

I'm frozen. I don't speak.

His lips are parted open still. His red eyes study my face, like he's fascinated by me, and then they shift onto my lips, and then past my chin, down my throat, and onto my body. He's straddling me. My legs are still spread open though, and his groin is pressed against my pelvis. There's heat there. I watch his eyes flick over my body, examining it, and I feel self-conscious and afraid. He leans forward again; the movement is so sudden, I cry out again, and he stops just half an inch from my lips. I can feel his breath. And then, as quickly as he appeared, he is off me and gone.

I sit up and search the alleyway for him.

He's nowhere.

I breathe out, gather my backpack, and run home.