I slam the front door behind me, barely manage to kick off my shoes, and by the time I reach the kitchen, I'm already tearing the fridge open.
My heart is pounding in my throat, my hands are shaking, and there's only one word echoing in my head..Hunger. A deep, animal kind of hunger that pushes me forward.
I grab anything I see.
bread, cheese, yogurts, leftover pasta, sausages. I shove it all into my mouth, chewing, swallowing, stuffing myself like I haven't eaten in days.
But the more I eat, the worse my body reacts. Each bite tastes bitter, wrong. My stomach twists, my throat tightens, and then I'm lunging toward the sink, choking, throwing everything up.
All the human food I forced down is in seconds. The taste left in my mouth is worse than anything I've ever felt.
I'm shaking, gasping for breath, my eyes burning, and the hunger..it doesn't go away.
It gets worse.
It claws under my skin, squeezes my insides, burns through my chest. I feel like if I don't eat something right now, I'll go crazy or drop dead. I open the freezer out of pure panic. Not thinking, just following some instinct that's louder than logic.
And then I see it.
A pack of raw beef. Frozen pieces stuck together, small crystals of blood on the plastic. I tear the bag open with my bare hands, not caring about the cold, the ice, the paper stuck to it.
The second I bring the meat close to my face, the smell of raw blood hits me. Thick. Metallic. Heavy. It sends a chill down my spin, but not out of disgust, but out of something else. Something terrifying.
Want.
Need.
A deep, instinctive rush that makes me feel like this is the only thing that can save me.
I sink my teeth into the meat. My fangs tear through it easily, blood hits my tongue, cold and salty, and suddenly everything in me calms down.
A wave of relief crashes through my body. So strong it makes my knees weak. I'm eating too fast, ripping the meat apart, swallowing chunks. Blood runs down my chin, down my hands, but I don't care.
For a moment, everything makes sense.
The pressure fades.
The thirst quiets.
I feel strong.
Sharp and alive.
When I chew the last piece, blood still on my lips and fingers, I'm breathing hard, almost buzzing with energy. Colors seem brighter. Sounds sharper. The world finally feels... right.
But the feeling doesn't last.
Barely a minute later, the wave inside me rolls back, and the hunger returns. Slow, steady, like a pain that never fully left. I know I just ate way more than any human stomach should handle.
But the emptiness inside me is still there.
And it hits me:
nothing from the freezer will ever be enough.
Supermarket blood isn't enough.
It's just a weak imitation of what my body actually wants.
My instinct knows it. But my mind doesn't want to admit it.
My hands are still shaking when I clean the counter. I wash the sink, wipe off every drop of blood, throw the torn plastic deep into the trash and cover it with coffee grounds. I wipe the fridge handle, the freezer door, every place I touched. My body moves fast, automatic, like I've done this a hundred times.
Somewhere in me, there should be guilt. Or fear. Horror, maybe.
But instead, there's calm.
A strange, dangerous calm.
My brain keeps screaming that I'm a freak, a monster chewing on raw meat straight from the freezer, but under it all... there's this quiet voice.
This new, light inside me.
I'm a monster. Some kind of fucked-up predator.
But the truth is softer, quieter, and scarierx
something in me understands it.
Something in me likes it.
I've always wanted strength. Something that would hold me together when everything else falls apart. And now?
Now I feel it.
Burning in my veins.
Sharp, wild and terrifying.
But beautiful.
I wipe the last drop of blood off the counter and stop, leaning on my hands, head down, eyes closed. And it hits me-
I don't regret it.
Not right now.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I actually exist.
I breathe in slowly. That cold, steady strength settles in my body again.
This was meant to happen.
Even if it ruins everything.
Even if it ends badly.
I don't regret it.
I finish cleaning, wash my hands again, and end up in my room. I sit on the edge of my bed, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the wall.
The silence feels heavy, filled with a new kind of energy and fear. Everything that happened today keeps replaying in my mind, over and over.
I try to tell myself I can handle this alone.
But that's a lie.
Even when I pretend to be strong, I need someone to keep me together me. Someone who sees me, even the broken parts.
And that someone is Peter.
The thought hits me hard.
There's no avoiding it anymore.
Peter always held me together, even when I didn't deserve it. He's the one person who grounds me, who makes everything feel less insane. He's my other half, the one thing in this world that makes sense.
I don't know how to tell him.
I don't know if he'll believe me.
But I know one thing:
I can't do this without him.
I sit there for a while, phone beside me on the bed, staring into the dark screen. My fingers move before I even think.
Peter, come over. I need to tell you something.
I breathe once and send it.
Without him, I feel like this whole world could collapse under me.
His reply comes fast, which is so Peter.
It hurts how much I trust him.
Yeah, bro. I'm coming.
I pull my knees closer, staring at the message long after the screen goes dark. Everything still feels terrifying.
But with him?
With him, it feels possible.
I sit in the quiet, breathing slow, waiting for him to show up at my door.
For the first time today...
I don't feel alone.
Peter gets here fast.
I recognize his footsteps in the hallway before he even opens the door. He doesn't wait for me to stand up, he just walks right in like always, no knocking, no hesitation.
He drops his and mine backpack that i left in school, and he throws himself onto the edge of the bed next to me.
Something about that movement calms me.
It's the same, no matter what's happening.
"What's up, dude?" he starts. He's got that stupid half-grin on his face, but there's a question hiding in his eyes, covered under the usual sarcasm.
"You finally got a new tattoo? Or did you get your period?"
I try to smile, but it just... doesn't happen.
Everything in me feels too heavy, too tight, like I'm one breath away from laughing or crying or both. I just look at him, and I know he sees it.
The thing in my eyes I can't hide, not even for a second.
Peter quiets down for a moment. He studies me, holding eye contact without flinching. The grin softens, drops a little, but doesn't disappear completely.
He's still halfway between joking and real concern.
"Hey... seriously. What happened?"
And now there's nowhere left to go.