Bloody Mary // J. Hale

Unhuman

"You're not human, are you?"

Jenna's voice cut through the stillness, her words laced with quiet certainty. Her gaze stayed locked on Jasper, unwavering despite the growing tension in the air. For a moment, it felt as though the forest itself held its breath, waiting.

Jasper didn't move. He stood there, as still as a statue, his body rigid and unresponsive. His eyes bored into hers, their intensity almost overwhelming, as if he were searching her very soul for answers she didn't even know she had. The weight of his stare made her throat tighten, and she swallowed hard, but she refused to look away.

She'd spent years refusing to believe in anything beyond the ordinary, dismissing whispers of the supernatural as fantasy. But those doubts had been easier to cling to when she was alone. Now, faced with Jasper, she couldn't explain away the nagging truths any longer. He wasn't like anyone she'd ever met. His presence was magnetic, otherworldly. Different. Just like her.

Her words had been a wild leap—an instinctual guess—but the way Jasper stood there, motionless, not denying it, not even flinching, confirmed what she already knew. It was unsettling, yes. A part of her wanted to back away, to run, but she stayed rooted, refusing to let fear take over.

Jasper's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, as if testing the air. "What?" His tone carried an edge of disbelief, but not denial.

Jenna exhaled sharply, her resolve hardening. She took a step forward, closing the space between them. "Don't pretend you didn't hear me," she said firmly, her voice steadier than she felt.

Jasper's jaw tensed, and as she advanced, he instinctively took a step back. The movement struck her like a ripple of unease. For the first time since she'd met him, he looked unsure, even vulnerable.

"You know what I said," she pressed, her voice soft but unrelenting. "And I know I'm right."

His gaze darted away for a split second, a crack in his armour, before returning to hers. The tension between them thickened, heavy with unspoken truths. Jenna didn't need him to confirm it—not with words, at least. His silence, his hesitation, said more than enough.

Jasper's lips turned into a faint, almost teasing smirk, the tension in his posture softening just enough to feel deliberate. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"Let's just say," he drawled, his Southern accent adding a low, velvet edge to his words, "you're not wrong."

A shiver ran down Jenna's spine as her suspicion took root, growing stronger with his cryptic reply.

"Then what are you?" she pressed, her voice tinged with both curiosity and unease.

Jasper shrugged, turning back to the trail, his steps unhurried and deliberate. "I'm much like you," he said, his tone almost philosophical, "but also nothing like you."

Jenna quickened her pace to keep up, jogging a few steps to match his longer strides. She frowned, her expression half-frustrated, half-intrigued. "Well, that's just vague."

A quiet hum escaped him, thoughtful and nonchalant, as though he was deliberating something private. The birds' cheerful songs filled the silence as they walked side by side, the peacefulness of the forest at odds with the tension swirling between them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jasper broke the silence, his voice low and hesitant, as if testing the weight of his words. "I can sense emotions," he admitted, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "And influence them."

The statement lingered in the air, surreal and heavy with implications. Jenna's brow furrowed as she tried to process what he'd just said, his casual delivery doing nothing to lessen the extraordinary weight of his words.