Chapter 9 FIRST KILL
(Lilian’s POV)
The night started quiet, too quiet like the city had agreed to hold its breath.
I walked home from the café with my hood up, earbuds in, pretending I was just another tired barista dragging herself through life. But under the surface, everything hummed. My skin tingled. My veins felt alive in a way that didn’t belong to me.
Every heartbeat I passed on the street, I felt every faint pulse which made my chest tighten.
It had been days since the bite, days of pretending I was fine, days of lying to Emma and Sam, of laughing off my pale skin, my exhaustion, my new habit of flinching whenever someone got too close.
But the hunger… it was still there.
I thought maybe coffee could drown it out. Or food Or my denial could work.
It couldn’t.
By the time I reached the alley, the one where everything had changed, I could feel it again. That same metallic smell. That same whisper in my skull telling me to stop fighting.
I paused under a flickering streetlight. My breath fogged in front of me.
“Not tonight,” I muttered. “You’re not winning tonight.” I said clinching to my clothes restricting myself.
I didn’t even know who I was talking to again whether it was myself, maybe the thing inside me.
It didn’t matter, i kept walking, Then I heard a faint scream coming from somewhere behind me.
I turned, my stomach dropping. The sound had come from the next street, one of those narrow side alleys that all looked the same after dark. I hesitated for half a second before instinct pulled me forward.
When I reached it, I saw a man gripping a woman’s purse, her body pressed against the brick wall. She was struggling, shoving him, her voice trembling.
“Let me go!, you imbecile”
He laughed you that ugly, slurred kind of laugh that always made my skin crawl.
“Relax, sweetheart. I just want a little—”
I didn’t let him finish his statement and i moved before I even knew I had moved.
One second I was watching. The next, my hands were on him, slamming him away from her so hard he hit the ground. He scrambled, swearing, and I realized way too late that my pulse was calm. My breathing much more steady than earlier, what i just felt was the urge to stick my fangs into his throat however this shit works.
“Who the hell—” he started, but I didn’t let him finish.
Something inside me snapped. The sound of his pulse went up which showed that he was terrified, and trust me when I say this is gonna be my second best stuff to hear.. My throat burned and my stomach twisted.
And before I could think, I was on him.
My fingers found his shoulders, pinning him down like he weighed nothing. His breath reeked of alcohol, yucks !.
He tried to scream, but I didn’t hear it not really. All I heard was the pounding of his blood, It was just sitting pretty calling to me.
And of course i answered.
The moment my teeth sank into his neck, the world stopped, Hot, sweet, enticing blood filled my mouth, rich and metallic, burning and soothing at the same time. It was everything food wasn’t real, satisfying, very right.
He jerked once, twice, then went still. I didn’t stop, I couldn’t. Every drop that touched my tongue felt like oxygen, like clarity, like I needed it.
For the first time in days, the ache vanished. The noise in my head went silent.
And God help me when I said... it felt good.
When I finally pulled back, my hands were shaking. His eyes were open, blank. The woman was gone, I didn’t even remember her running.
I stared down at him. My lips were wet from his blood, my reflection in a puddle near my feet showed a stranger with wild-eyes, pale, blood smeared across her mouth.
I stumbled backward, gasping... “No. No, no, no… God No!.”
The copper taste lingered on my tongue, intoxicating. My body hummed with strength, my heartbeat slow and deep. I felt alive in a way that terrified me.
He was dead and I felt so satisfied.
The realization hit me so hard I dropped to my knees. The cold ground bit into my skin, but I barely felt it.
“Oh God,” I whispered. “What have I done?”
There was no answer. Just the echo of the wind and the sound of a city that didn’t care.
I don’t remember running home, but I must have.
One second I was in the alley. The next, I was standing in front of my apartment door, my keys trembling in my blood-slick fingers.
Immediately I went Inside, the air felt suffocating. I slammed the door, stumbled into the kitchen, and grabbed the sink.
My reflection in the window looked wrong and faint around the edges, like I wasn’t fully there. I blinked, and it sharpened for a moment before fading again.
I splashed water on my face but It didn’t help.
The blood on my hands refused to wash off at first. It clung to my skin, to my nails. I scrubbed until my knuckles turned red. The sink ran pink, then clear.
But the taste still lingered.
It wasn’t disgust I felt. It was… longing.
And that scared me more than anything.
I sank to the floor, back against the counter. My heart was slow unnaturally slow. I pressed a hand to my chest, counting beats.
One.
Two.
Three.
Too far apart.
I waited for panic, but none came, just a cold calm.
“Maybe I’m dying,” I whispered. “Maybe this is what dying feels like.”
Except it wasn’t death. It was something worse actually, Something in-between.
I forced myself up, moving toward the bathroom mirror. The lights flickered as I switched them on.
My reflection looked even fainter now. The edges of my face shimmered like heat waves, fading every few seconds. My pupils were dilated, my skin pale enough to show the faint blue veins underneath.
When I smiled a to know how I look like, my teeth caught the light.
They looked kinda sharper, I laughed, breathless and shaky. “Oh, perfect. I’m staring in my own nightmare sequel.”
But even as I joked, the corners of my mouth trembled because deep down, I wasn’t sure it was a nightmare anymore.
The hours crawled by, I tried to sleep but I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face, the man in the alley. The way his pulse fluttered under my hand before it stopped. I should’ve been horrified.
I was to be sincere but I was also… curious and addicted, My body buzzed with energy that shouldn’t have been there.
By dawn, the sunlight leaking through my curtains burned against my skin. Not pain just heat, like standing too close to a stove. I hissed, pulling the blanket over my head.
“Okay,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Sunlight is bad. Noted.”
When I finally stood, the room felt dim. The colors muted. My reflection was still faint, fading every few seconds.
I looked human again but I didn’t feel human anymore.
Later that morning, I stood at the sink again, staring at my clean hands. My nails looked darker, sharper around the edges. My veins glowed faintly under the skin, a thin blue line tracing up my wrist.
I tried to remember what it felt like before the bite, before the hunger.
All I could think of was the silence after the feeding.
And the guilt that followed it was heavy, choking, endless.
I grabbed my phone, scrolling aimlessly until I found the article again.
“Victims often lose their reflection within days. Their heartbeat slows. Sunlight becomes intolerable. They begin to crave…”
I shut it off before I read the rest.
“Crave.”
Yeah. That part I didn’t need explained.
My stomach growled, low and deep. Not the kind food could fix.
I pressed my hand to my mouth, tears pricking at my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered though I didn’t know who I was apologizing to. The man I killed? Myself? The girl I used to be?
The silence didn’t answer, but somewhere deep inside, the hunger did.
And it was smiling at me!.