Hunt

Prologue: A Page Torn Out

I'm writing in this journal to document what's really going on. To write the truth. To give insight into the horrors that lurk in the shadows under your bed and in your closet.
My name is Kyle Parker. I'm 18 years old and I've seen more than my share of shit. Believe me when I say that the following accounts aren't pretty. Nothing in this world will prepare you for the truth. So be warned, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

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November, 2016

"What's gotten into you? You're acting weird." I say with shaking hands, looking on at my girlfriend, Heather. She's sitting on my basement floor, crying and unable to get her words out. Unfortunately this wasn't unusual, but this time it felt different. Something else was wrong. "Please, just tell me what's wrong! I want to help you!" An eerie feeling filling the air in the dark basement, claiming the gaps between Heather's sobs. The paused episode of Friends illuminates the room in a full blue glow, adding to the sinister chill creeping up my spine.

Heather keeps crying, having pulled herself up into a ball. Not letting me get anywhere near her. "Y-you wouldn't believe me... stay back!" Her body shaking from the crying.

What I had originally thought was just a panic attack had already faded. I knew how to help with those, this wasn't like that. Something else was going on with Heather. What was this really? Why doesn't she trust me? A thousand different scenarios are running through my head. A trauma in the family? Something at school? Was she cheating on me? "Heather, nothing you say can be too crazy. We've been dating for almost two years. Please, just tell me what's wrong!" I kneel down next to her, trying to comfort her to little avail. She wouldn't let me touch her. With another shake of her head I force my hands onto her shoulders, pulling her teary eyes up to meet mine, "Please, tell me. Whatever it is I'll believe you."

Tears well up in her eyes and she takes a shaky breath. "O-okay." She pauses in an attempt to regain composure, "The truth... I'm not human..."

My head goes fuzzy. My brain fills with static as I'm not able to fully comprehend what she had just said.

"Wh-what? What do you mean not human? You look human to me." I try desperately to lighten the mood. I hate it when others are in pain, so I've always strived to make people smile. This time it wasn't going my way.
         
"I knew you wouldn't believe me..." she turns away from me, beginning to silently sob again. A pit of guilt forming in my stomach. A small part of me begins to question my original belief. The feeling of my entire system of beliefs being slowly ripped open and left to spill out in front of me.

She asks a question between her sniffling. "Kyle. Do you believe in vampires? Werewolves? Those kinds of things?"

"You mean fantasy creatures? They're imaginary, fairy tales." The pit grows bigger in my gut. Morphing from guilt to something scarier. What... what if I'm wrong? What if she is actually telling the truth... "What are you trying to say Heather?"

"I-I'm trying to tell you the truth..." She sighs and turns back to me. "You know how I have really good hearing? And a good sense of smell?" I reply with a slow nod and a concerned look. "Well there's a good reason for all of that... I'm a vampire."

As if by instinct I simultaneously scoot back, and crack a stupid joke about how she didn't sparkle in the sun. "A vampire. Like Count Dracula vampire?" I must've not gotten my point across. 

"I...it's not like that." She says in a hushed tone, her body shaking. Barely noticeable in the low light. I thought at the time she was just scared. 

I have never been more wrong.

"People aren't turned when they're bitten. But blood does sustain me." Heather says louder, suddenly shifting to a sitting position. Unnaturally fast. A revealing glint in her eye I don't catch in the low light.

With a sudden flash of movement she lunges. I'm thrown back against the couch. Frantically wrestling for control as she pins me, her body violently shaking as she takes a ragged breath. "I'm so sorry..."

December, 2016

It still stings. Even though it's nothing but scars and memories now, I can't seem to shake the burning fear and pain of that night. What's wrong with me? Why can't I just push through it? Why does it hurt still?

Heather didn't take the breakup well. She claims she's in control, and that she doesn't remember anything of that night. But I do. There's nothing in this world that would make me forget. Nobody will go through what I did. Not if I have anything to say about it.