Bitten
2096 Words
The music hit her before the door even opened. Bass thudded through the walls, shaking the porch beneath her heels. Laughter spilled out in waves. They were loud and careless, like nothing in the world had ever gone wrong.
Isolde hesitated for half a second before stepping inside. This wasn’t her world. She preferred quiet corners and heavy books, conversations that meant something. But tonight, she needed noise. She needed something strong enough to drown out red eyes.
“Wait here,” Vesper shouted over the music, grabbing Cordelia’s hand. “We’ll get us drinks.”
Isolde nodded. The house was packed. The air smelled like alcohol and perfume and something burnt in the kitchen. Her eyes scanned the room automatically — and then she saw him.
Tucker Wallow.
He sat near the staircase, laughing at something one of his teammates said. Effortless. Confident. Untouched by grief or nightmares. He had always looked like that, like life bent easily around him. For years, she had swallowed whatever she felt for him. Tucker was the quarterback. Popular. Magnetic. He lived for parties and reckless dares. She lived for grades and quiet afternoons. It had never made sense in her head, so she never said anything.
She had simply endured it. Watching him with other girls. Pretending it didn’t sting.
For a moment, he glanced up. Their eyes almost met. Her heart betrayed her and lifted.
Then Cassie appeared. She slipped onto his lap like she belonged there, fingers sliding into his hair. Tucker didn’t hesitate. His hands settled at her waist. They kissed — careless and easy.
Isolde looked away and walked to a corner.
“I told you to wait for us,” Vesper said, appearing beside her with two cups. She handed one over. “It’ll burn, but it helps.”
Isolde stared at the liquid. She had only drunk once before. She hated the taste. Hated the loss of control. But control hadn’t saved her father. She lifted the cup and swallowed it all in one go. It burned. Her throat protested. Her eyes watered slightly. She handed the cup back without a word.
“Have you seen Tucker?” Cordelia asked carefully.
“He’s occupied.”
Both girls followed her gaze. Vesper sighed. “Cassie.”
There was a pause.
“You know if you told him how you feel,” Vesper continued, lowering her voice, “he would leave her in seconds.”
Isolde forced a small laugh. “That’s not how things work.”
“It is with him,” Cordelia insisted. “You don’t see it, but we do. Why do you think half the girls at school hate you? Tucker likes you too.”
“I think,” Isolde said quietly, “I need another drink.”
Cordelia handed hers over without hesitation. Isolde didn’t sip this time either. She drank it all at once. The second burn settled deeper.
The room shifted slightly after that.
The music stretched, bass vibrating strangely in her ears. Lights blurred too. Laughter sounded distant, like it was happening underwater. And for the briefest second — just a flicker — she thought she saw something dark standing near the hallway.
Tall. Still. Watching. Her breath caught.
When she blinked, it was gone. Just a coat hanging near the wall.
“You okay?” Vesper asked.
“I’m fine,” Isolde replied quickly. She wasn’t fine.
The air felt too thick. Her skin felt too tight.
“I need some air,” she muttered.
Neither of them stopped her.
She slipped through the crowd and pushed the back door open. Cool night air hit her face immediately. It felt like waking up.
The music dulled behind the closed door, and for a moment, she just stood there, breathing.
“Not your scene?”
The voice came from her left. Isolde turned.
“Troy.” Her brows lifted slightly. “Why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be inside with your boys?”
He gave a small shrug. “Could ask you the same thing.”
She crossed her arms. “I’m fine.”
He studied her for a second. “I didn’t say you weren’t,” he replied quietly. Then after a pause, “But I figured it might feel… suffocating. Staying in your room after losing your dad.”
Her gaze dropped to the porch floor.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Troy continued, softer. “I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I was ten when my mom died.”
Isolde glanced up at him.
“For three weeks,” he went on, “I barely left my room. Just cried and shut everyone out. If I’d known back then how calming alcohol could feel, I probably would’ve tried that instead.” A faint, humorless smile touched his lips. “Eight years later… it still doesn’t completely go away. You just learn how to carry it.”
Something in her chest eased — just a little.
He looked toward the yard, then back at her. “Wanna take a stroll?”
She let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “I came here to party. Not wander around in the dark.”
“It’s quieter,” he said. “Might help clear your head.”
She hesitated.
He stepped down from the porch, turning halfway back to her. “Five minutes. If you hate it, we’ll come right back.”
Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down. Missed call: Mom.
Guilt pricked at her ribs. She imagined her mother sitting alone in the mansion, surrounded by condolences and silence. Isolde locked the screen.
Who was she kidding? The noise inside the house was unbearable. She looked at Troy, then toward the trees stretching beyond the yard. It wouldn’t hurt. It was just a walk.
She shrugged lightly. “Fine. Five minutes.”
A small smile curved his mouth. “Five.”
He started walking, and after a heartbeat, she followed.
The grass dampened beneath her heels as they crossed the yard. With every step away from the house, the music dulled until it was nothing more than a faint vibration in the distance.
Crickets filled the silence instead.
The night felt cooler now. They reached the edge of the trees.
Up close, the woods didn’t look as inviting as they had from the porch. The branches tangled together like fingers, blocking out most of the moonlight.
“Troy.”
Troy glanced back at her. “Relax. We’re not hiking into the wilderness. I know a spot.”
“I am not going deep into the woods with you,” she said, folding her arms.
He smiled lightly. “Five minutes, remember?”
“Three now.”
He blinked. “What?”
“It’s down to three.”
A quiet laugh left him. “Fine. Three.”
He stepped into the trees first. For a second, she stayed where she was. The air inside the woods felt different — heavier somehow. Then he held out his hand.
“Come on.”
She stared at it. It was ridiculous to be nervous. It was Troy. Not some stranger. She placed her hand in his. His fingers were colder than she expected. He led her in.
The sounds of the party disappeared completely once the trees swallowed them. Leaves crunched beneath their feet. Branches brushed against her arms as they walked deeper.
“How far is this ‘spot’?” she asked after a minute.
“Not far.”
They kept walking.
The alcohol warmth that had settled in her chest earlier was fading now. Her legs began to ache slightly from the uneven ground.
“Troy,” she said again, more impatient this time. “How much longer?”
“Just a little.”
That answer didn’t comfort her. She lifted her phone, turning on the flashlight. The beam cut through the dark — and landed on a wooden sign nailed to a tree.
DANGER.
STAY AWAY.
The words were faded, half-splintered at the edges. Her stomach dropped. She lowered the phone slowly and looked at him. “This is a bad idea.”
He followed her gaze to the sign. Then he shrugged. “If you’re scared, we can head back.”
The way he said it — calm, almost amused — made her jaw tighten.
“I’m not scared,” she muttered. But she took a step backward anyway.
“Fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”
They turned. They had barely taken three steps when the sound split the air.
A low, guttural growl.
It didn’t sound like it came from ahead of them. It sounded like it came from everywhere.
Isolde froze.
Her phone slipped from her fingers, hitting the ground. The flashlight beam spun wildly across tree trunks, before landing sideways in the dirt, casting the forest in crooked light.
Her pulse roared so loudly. “What was that?”
Troy tilted his head slightly, listening. “I don’t know,” he said after a beat. “Maybe some wild animal?” She stared at him. Then, he laughed. “Relax,” he added. “I’m kidding.”
She shoved his arm. “That’s not funny.”
“Calm down, Isolde. There aren’t wild animals around here. It’s probably a prank. The guys do dumb stuff all the time.”
“That didn’t sound dumb,” she whispered.
The forest had gone silent. No crickets. No wind. Nothing.
Her instincts screamed at her to leave. “We need to go. Now.”
She crouched quickly to grab her phone. The second growl came before her fingers touched it. Louder this time. The flashlight beam flickered, as if something enormous had just crossed through it. Isolde’s breath hitched in her throat.
Slowly, she straightened. And froze. “Troy…”
Two red eyes opened in the dark. Her lungs locked. Her pulse pounded so hard she felt it in her skull. The moon broke free from the clouds. Pale light spilled into the clearing. And she saw it clearly.
Black fur. Massive shoulders. Limbs too long. Too powerful. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t anything she understood.
The creature stepped forward, slowly. Its head tilted slightly. It inhaled — deep. And its red eyes locked onto Troy.
Isolde staggered back, her heel catching on a root.
“s**t! It found me.” Troy grabbed her wrist. “Run!”
She didn’t need to be told twice. They ran. Branches whipped against her face. Her breath tore out of her in ragged gasps. Her legs burned, lungs screaming for air. But it was faster.
She felt it before she saw it — a rush of air, a violent shift in the dark.
The creature lunged. Not at her. At Troy.
The impact was sickening. His grip vanished as he was ripped from her side and hurled through the air. He hit the ground hard, the sound echoing through the trees.
Isolde stumbled and turned. She shouldn’t have.
The creature was on him. It brought its weight down with brutal force. She heard something break. Then break again.
Troy’s scream cut short into a choking gasp.
Her body shook violently, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.
The creature lifted its head and turned to her. Blood dripped from its fangs. Its red eyes locked onto hers. It was angry.
The same eyes. The same eyes from the road. From the crash. From the night her father was torn away.
“No—” Her voice broke. “Please—”
It moved. Too fast.
One second it was beside Troy. The next, it was in front of her. It pounced. The impact knocked her flat onto her back. The air blasted from her lungs. Then, Fire.
White-hot agony exploded through her stomach as teeth sank into her flesh. Her scream ripped through the forest. Something spreading through her veins like molten metal.
Her thoughts fractured. Her father’s face flashed in her mind — reaching for her through shattered glass. His scream. The way he had been dragged away.
The tears she hadn’t shed finally spilled down her temples.
Was this how it ended? Was this how she joined him?
The creature lifted its head. She couldn’t see clearly from the blood she’d lost. Everything around her swam and went fuzzy. Through the haze, she saw Troy being dragged across the forest floor, disappearing into the shadows. The last thing she saw was its broad, merciless back moving away beneath the pale moonlight.
Then… everything went black.
- Writer
