Once Bitten, Twice Shy
1029 Words
A monster would always kill. Hurt.
That's what I told myself when I picked up a blade for the first time.
But as his hand tightened around my throat, I realized monsters didn't always rush. Some liked to take their time.
"Still proud?" His breath was hot against my face. "Even now?"
I clawed at his wrist, gasping. "Do it then—kill me—"
He tilted his head, golden eyes narrowing. "Kill you?" A small smile curved his mouth. "That's too easy."
I kicked at him, trying to get leverage, but he pinned me effortlessly. One hand pressed into my chest, the other clamped around my neck. My lungs screamed.
"Get off—"
"You talk too much."
He lowered his head, and before I could twist away, pain ripped through my shoulder. His teeth sank deep.
I screamed. The sound tore through the night, raw and violent. Fire exploded beneath my skin, spreading fast, racing through my veins like liquid lightning.
I shoved at him, but my strength vanished. My muscles locked. My fingers twitched uselessly against his bare chest.
"Stop—please—"
"Too late." His voice was low, cruel. He pulled back, blood staining his mouth. "Never underestimate your enemy, little hunter."
He released me and I dropped to the ground hard. My chest heaved, body convulsing as heat flooded every nerve.
My vision blurred. My heartbeat stuttered, skipped, then raced.
He crouched beside me, perfectly calm, watching me shake like I was some kind of experiment. "Pride. That's your flaw, Sage Whitmore." His tone was almost conversational. "You think the world bends because you're strong enough to hunt it."
"Go to hell," I choked out.
He laughed, the sound dark and bitter. "Already been there."
The pain twisted through me again, sharper this time. My body jerked violently, back arching off the ground. My throat burned. I tried to breathe, but the air clawed back out, dragging blood with it.
He caught my chin, forcing me to look at him. "See? Even your blood resists dying. Typical Whitmore stubbornness."
I tried to lift my hand, tried to reach for the weapon I'd dropped. It shook so badly I couldn't even make a fist. "I'll kill you."
His smile didn't waver. "You'll try."
My legs spasmed. The venom spread faster than anything I'd ever studied in my father's lab. I felt it crawl up my spine, flooding my head with dizzy, unbearable heat. Every heartbeat felt like it would be my last.
He stood over me, his bare chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm while mine stuttered and gasped. "You're lucky, Sage Whitmore." His voice dropped lower. "Not everyone gets to die and be reborn in the same night."
"What... are you..." My teeth chattered, words breaking apart.
"Your lesson." He said it simply, like he was explaining something obvious to a child. "Your punishment. Your curse."
That last word hit harder than the pain. Curse.
I tried to move, but my body seized again. My fingers clawed at the dirt, blood slicking the ground beneath me. My own blood, pooling warm and sticky.
He crouched once more, and his voice turned almost gentle. "You should've stayed home, little hunter. Let someone else chase ghosts in the dark."
"Shut... up..." My vision darkened around the edges.
He brushed his thumb across my cheek, smearing dirt and blood together. The touch was surprisingly soft. "So fragile," he whispered. "For someone who calls herself the best."
His gaze flicked to the bite on my shoulder. Blood still pulsed from the wound in slow, thick drops. "Don't fight it." The gentleness in his voice felt worse than his cruelty. "It hurts more when you fight."
I fought anyway. Every nerve in my body screamed in protest. My throat clenched, lungs seizing. I couldn't stop shaking.
He straightened, looking down at me like I was already dead. "Never forget this, Sage Whitmore." His golden eyes caught the moonlight. "You're not the hunter anymore."
My mouth filled with the taste of iron. My thoughts blurred and scattered. The forest spun around me in dizzying circles.
He turned and walked away. The sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, swallowed by the night.
The darkness pressed in—too quiet, too heavy. The burning in my veins dulled into something cold and numb. My body gave one last violent tremor before going still.
The ground felt warm under me. Wet. I stared up at the treetops, watching the moon blur and double behind the haze of pain.
Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. I could feel it sliding down my neck, soaking into my collar.
My lips twitched. I couldn't tell if I was trying to laugh or sob.
So this is what death feels like.
I smiled to myself.
Maybe…maybe in the world of the dead, I might find the peace I seek.
****
I didn’t die.
This wasn’t heaven.
I lay on a narrow cot in a room that smelled faintly of herbs and antiseptic.
Light poured through a narrow window, too bright, stabbing my eyes until I winced.
My own heartbeat was loud enough to hear. The sheets under me were coarse, scratching against my palms.
I tried to sit up but pain knifed through my shoulder, forcing me back. My head spun. Every sound — the hum of wires, the squeak of a chair — landed twice as loud as it should.
“Easy,” a voice said from somewhere near my feet. “Your nerves are firing like a blown fuse.”
I blinked until the shape in the room sharpened. A man leaned against a metal counter, jotting notes with a slim pen. His dark hair was swept back haphazardly, the cuffs of his shirt rolled above his elbows.
A faint silver watch clung to his wrist; the glow from the monitors reflected in his pale green eyes. He looked more like a tired professor than a doctor, except for the precision in his movements.
“Dr. Adrian Sterling,” I rasped.
“If you add a title, I’ll start charging you,” he said without glancing up.
- Writer
