Amelia
I had always believed birthdays were supposed to feel magical.
Not the glitter-and-balloons kind of magic - though there were plenty of those scattered around our living room - but the quiet, internal kind. The kind that made you feel like something important was about to happen. Like the universe had leaned closer and whispered, Tonight matters.
Nineteen felt like that.
My last birthday as a high school student. My last year at Winfred Academy. My last excuse to keep hiding behind what ifs and maybes.
And if I was being honest with myself - painfully honest - this birthday was not really about cake or gifts or even the party my parents had insisted on throwing.
It was about Kyle.
Kyle Hart.
The cold, aloof heartthrob of Winfred Academy. The boy every girl pretended not to stare at and every guy pretended not to be intimidated by. The boy who never smiled unless he meant it. The boy who had been living rent-free in my heart since middle school.
I smoothed my hands down my dress for the tenth time that night, fingers trembling slightly. It was soft, pale blue - nothing too flashy, nothing too plain. I had spent three weeks deciding on it, and another week second-guessing whether it made me look childish or desperate.
Stop, I told myself. You are nineteen. Not fourteen.
Music hummed through the house, laughter blending into a warm, buzzing noise that should have calmed me. Friends from school, neighbors, a few distant relatives - all gathered to celebrate me. To celebrate growing older.
Yet my eyes kept drifting toward the door.
Toward the empty space where Kyle should have been.
He had come. I knew that much. I had seen him earlier - standing near the edge of the room like he always did, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. He had not said much. He never did. But when our eyes had met across the room, something unspoken had passed between us.
That familiar, electric pull.
And that was why I was eighty percent sure he liked me too.
It was not just wishful thinking. It could not be. Not with the way his eyes always seemed to find me in crowded hallways, even when I was laughing with my friends. Not with the way he watched me in class - never obvious, but always there. As if he was memorizing me when he thought I was not looking.
Sometimes I caught him staring, and instead of looking away like everyone else did, he held my gaze for a second longer than necessary.
Kyle Hart did not do unnecessary things.
Which begged the question that had haunted me for years.
Why had he never said anything?
I exhaled slowly and picked up my phone from the table, checking the time. Almost eleven. The party had started thinning out. People were saying their goodbyes, hugging me, promising to see me at school on Monday.
If you do not do this now, Amelia, I told myself, you never will.
And that thought terrified me more than rejection ever could.
I scanned the room again - and that was when I saw him.
Kyle was near the front door, slipping on his jacket.
Leaving.
My heart lurched painfully against my ribs.
"No," I whispered, already moving.
I did not stop to explain myself to my friends when I brushed past them. I did not grab my purse or my phone. I only knew one thing with absolute clarity:
If I let him walk out tonight, I would regret it for the rest of my life.
"Kyle!" I called, my voice barely carrying over the music.
He paused.
For a split second, hope flared so bright it almost hurt.
Then he turned his head just enough for me to see his profile - and something in his expression made me slow down.
He looked tense.
Not cold. Not distant.
Uneasy.
His jaw tightened when our eyes met, and instead of waiting for me, he opened the door and stepped outside.
The cold night air rushed in, brushing against my skin.
"Kyle, wait!" I called again, louder this time.
He did not.
I pushed through the door and followed him out into the night.
The world outside felt different - quieter, heavier. The laughter from inside faded quickly as Kyle headed down the street, his long strides eating up the distance between us.
I jogged to keep up. "Kyle, can you - can you just stop for a second?"
He stopped so suddenly I nearly collided with his back.
He turned around, and up close, I noticed things I had not before. The shadows under his eyes. The way his pupils seemed darker than usual. The faint tension rolling off him like a warning.
"Amelia," he said softly.
Just my name.
It sent a shiver down my spine.
"You are leaving early," I said, stupidly. As if that was the point.
His gaze flicked past me, back toward the glow of my house. "I should not have come."
My heart sank. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No." He said it too quickly. "You did not."
"Then why -"
"Amelia." He stepped back, increasing the distance between us. "Go back inside."
The words stung more than I expected. "I just wanted to talk to you. It is my birthday."
He looked at me then - really looked at me - and something dark and conflicted passed through his eyes.
"I know," he said quietly. "That is why you should not be here."
A thousand questions crowded my tongue, but before I could ask any of them, he turned and walked away again.
I stood frozen for exactly two seconds.
Then I followed him.
I do not know what possessed me. Courage. Stupidity. Love. Maybe all three. I kept my distance this time, trailing him as he turned off the main road and into a narrower path that led toward the woods behind Winfred Academy.
"Kyle," I called softly. "Please."
He did not respond.
The farther we went, the darker it got. The moon hung low in the sky, pale and watchful. The air smelled damp, metallic somehow.
My heart pounded - not just from the walk, but from a growing sense of wrongness.
"Okay," I said aloud, my voice shaking slightly. "This is officially creepy."
Kyle stopped again.
But this time, he was not alone.
There was someone else with him - a girl I did not recognize. She stood unsteadily, swaying on her feet, her head tilted oddly to the side.
Relief washed over me.
Oh. Thank God.
I had been ridiculous. Of course he was not leading me into the woods to murder me. He was just helping someone. Probably.
"Kyle?" I stepped closer. "Is she okay?"
He turned slowly.
And the look on his face made my blood run cold.
His eyes - those familiar, unreadable eyes - were glowing red.
Not a trick of the light. Not exhaustion.
Red.
The girl whimpered softly.
"Kyle?" I whispered.
He did not answer.
Instead, he bent his head toward her neck.
I saw the flash of something sharp.
And then -
He bit her.
Time fractured.
The world tilted violently as I stared, my mind refusing to make sense of what my eyes were seeing. The girl gasped weakly, her hands clutching at his jacket. Blood stained his lips, dark and obscene against his pale skin.
Kyle Hart - my crush, my almost-love - was feeding on her.
I staggered back, a scream clawing its way up my throat.
A twig snapped under my foot.
Kyle's head snapped up.
Our eyes met.
Blood glistened on his mouth.
And in that moment, I knew -
Nothing in my life would ever be normal again.