Chapter Eight
Sherese
When I get to my room, I pull open the dresser drawer I keep Hunter’s shirts in, so I can grab one for bed.
Except that’s not what I see. There’s not one of Hunter’s shirts in sight.
I stare at the shirts in the drawer before I open another drawer and finger through the leggings and jeans.
I open the top drawer, and my eyes widen in surprise at the underwear and bras.
On a roll, I head over to the closet. I stare at the hanging clothes and the shoes on the floor-sneakers, boots, even a pair of heels.
“Hunter.” I don’t have to shout for him to hear me; he’ll hear me just fine. A knock sounds on my door. “Come in.”
I feel his presence before I turn around. “What is all this?”
He eyes the closet. “Clothes.”
“Where did they come from?” I know where they came from; it’s all the stuff I tried on with Ava, plus more. “I mean, why is it all here?”
He leans against the door frame. “Ava wanted you to have it.”
“Isn’t this a little excessive?”
He just shrugs. “My advice?”
“I didn’t ask for your advice.”
He continues as if I hadn’t said anything.
“Just wear it; it will make Ava happy.” He leaves me alone in my room, and I stare at all the clothes again.
I search through the drawers and find a drawer with pajamas.
I pull on a matching shorts and tank top set that’s really soft and comfortable and get ready for bed.
I don’t sleep well that night, but that’s not really uncommon.
The next morning, I’m up early with extra energy.
For the first time in a really long time, I feel like going for a run.
The thought surprises me. I haven’t run since before everything happened.
I used to love running. I actually ran track for my school and was pretty good; I was fast. There was nothing better than flying around the track with the wind in my face.
For the first time in a really long time, I don’t automatically shove those painful memories away. I let them come.
I was popular in middle school and didn’t struggle as some kids did.
Because of being on the track team, I had built-in friends.
I’d been excited for high school. The high school track coach had recruited me and made sure I was planning on running track for his team.
I was looking forward to it. I remember the last race I ever ran.
It had been a full day of events. I competed in four different races and won every one of mine.
But it was the big one that I had geared up for.
It was the 3200-meter race. It was my first time qualifying for it, and I was excited to run it and show what I could do.
My coach kept telling me to be careful not to go out too hard, too fast. There was a girl from another school whom I knew from competing with over the years.
This was her race; she always won. I’d gone against her in other races and won some and lost others. But this was her race.
I remember stepping out onto the track. I felt good, really good.
My mom was in the stands cheering me on.
She didn’t make it to many of my races because she was sick a lot.
But today had been a good day for her. We lined up at the starting line.
I was ready, mentally and physically. When the gun went off, I exploded.
I could hear my coaches yelling at me to slow down, and I tried, but I wanted this.
I wanted it badly, and I was going to do what it took to win this one.
This was an eight-lap race, and I knew how to conserve my energy.
But that day, it was like I had wings. I flew around that track lap after lap.
And when the final lap came, I still had gas in the tank.
I pushed it and finished with my best time ever, blowing the competition out of the water.
That race would solidify my position on the high school team, and I knew it.
Our school had done well that day, and we celebrated on the drive back to our school.
It wasn’t that long of a drive—just about thirty minutes.
It should have been fine, quick, and easy.
But it wasn’t. I’ll never forget the events of that day.
The glass exploding, the bus flipping, the screams, the blood.
My best friend had been severely injured in the accident.
A large piece of glass had embedded itself a few inches above her heart.
I still don’t really know how it happened.
When the dust settled, I saw the blood pooling from her chest and reacted.
I panicked and pulled her shirt apart so I could see the wound.
Like an idiot, I’d put my hand on her chest, as if I could stop the bleeding.
But what had happened next...I would never take back healing my friend, but the consequences of my actions.
..I shake myself from my memories. That was a long time ago and better left forgotten.
I pull open my drawer and pull out the first shirt I see.
I tug on a pair of athletic pants, socks, and sneakers.
After throwing my hair up into a ponytail, I grab my phone and earbuds.
I leave my room, needing to escape my past, and somehow my room seems to be contributing to it.
I nearly ran into Hunter in the hallway.
An urgency to get outside and out of the house fills me so much that I feel like I can't breathe. “Vamp?” I heard Hunter’s question, but my eyes are locked on the door.
I need out now. I feel the panic growing in my chest.
“Move.”
He wisely moves out of my way, and I head straight for the door.
As soon as I get outside, I draw in a deep breath.
But it’s not enough to alleviate the pain sitting heavily on my chest. I shove in the earbuds from Hunter and start running.
I don’t think about where I’m going; I just need to get away.
I run and run, conscious of the fact that I have a fight in a few hours.
I don’t run as long as I want to, because I know that even a vampire has limits.
And my fight’s too important to show up wasted.
I eventually make it back to Hunter’s house, and I'm surprised to see him sitting on the front steps.
When I step out of the trees, his gaze is on me, unsurprised.
He would have scented me long before he saw me.
Once again, I wish I had the nose wolves have.
I pull my earbuds from my ears and walk over to the steps.
When he doesn’t move, I start to climb the steps and go around him, but his words stop me. “I tried following you.”
I frown. “Why?”
His dark gaze is steady on me. “I wasn’t sure if you were running for exercise or running away.”
I smirk. “How disappointing to see me back then.”
“I couldn’t keep up with you.”
“Aw. Stinks to be a wolf, huh?”
He doesn’t reply, but that dark gaze stays on me. “Are you okay?”
I stiffen at his question. “I’m fine. What time is my fight?”
He waits a beat. Then, “Noon.”
I nod. “I’ll be ready.” Without another word, I jog up the steps and into the house, where I head straight for my room to take a shower.
The shower helps settle me. When I finish, I wrap a towel around my hair and another around my body before staring at myself in the mirror.
I haven't looked at myself in a long time. I usually try to avoid it. After I was changed by the vamps, I avoided looking in the mirror for at least an entire year. Now, I see myself in the mirror for what I am. I see the pale, unnaturally white, pasty skin, the bright pop of turquoise in my eyes. I can’t see my hair right now, but the almost white blond of it just adds to the vampire look I’ve got going.
But beneath all that, I see the fourteen-year-old me.
I see the girl with the long blond hair who was popular, and suddenly, I don’t want to be her anymore.
I throw open the door to the bathroom, cringing when it hits the wall.
I make a mental note to check and make sure I didn’t make a hole in the wall.
I find my cell phone and pull up my text messages.
Me- do you know how to dye hair?
Ava wastes no time responding.
Ava- what color are we doing?
I smirk.
Me- Black. Dark black.
Ava- love it! Let's do it! I’ll be over soon with dye.
I toss my phone on the bed and head over to the dresser to grab clothes for today.
Knowing I’m going to be dying my hair, I throw on a pair of dark leggings and then search through the drawers, trying to find one of Hunter’s black t-shirts.
When I don’t find one, I throw on one of my new t-shirts and then make my way out to the kitchen, where I can hear him.
I stop in the doorway. “Can I borrow one of your black shirts?” He nods but doesn’t turn away from the stove, and I wonder for just a moment what he’s making.
Knowing it doesn’t matter because that part of my life is over, I spin around and head to his room.
I grab a black t-shirt out of one of his drawers and then make my way back to my room to wait for Ava.
It doesn’t take long for her to show up. She knocks on my door and doesn’t wait for me to answer before she opens the door. “I’m here!”
“I got that,” I say dryly.
“Okay, when you said black hair dye, I thought that was a no-brainer. But do you know how many shades of black they have? There’s black, soft black, peppercorn black, natural black, espresso black, midnight black, jet black.”
“I think I get the picture.”
“You really don’t,” she says as she throws two boxes of hair dye on the bed.
“There was plum black. What even is that? Purple black? I don’t get it. Anyway, I got soft black and espresso black. You can choose which one.”
I stare at both of them. “Have you done this before?”
“Dye hair?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Oh yeah. Many times.”
“Really?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Once or twice.”
I find that I don’t even care. “All right. Let’s do it. I want the blond gone. The blond was old me.”
“Totally. You are gonna rock this black; it’s going to look amazing!” We set up camp in the bathroom. “All right. Let’s get this started. Let me just do this real quick.”
“What are you doing?” I ask out of curiosity.
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Nothing.” Her face isn’t nearly as innocent as she’s trying to make it out to be.
“You’re asking ChatGPT how to dye hair, aren’t you?” I accuse.
“Yep.”
The next few hours pass in a blur of making a mess, laughing, arguing, and having the best time I’ve had in a really long time.
Ava doesn’t let me look in the mirror the entire time, which was scary before she started making faces of concern.
Now, I’m really starting to worry. But it’s too late; I’m all in now.
I’ll make the best of it, no matter how good or bad it looks.
I figure it can’t look any worse than what I had before.