Clea met Tyler when she was thirteen and he was fifteen. Her father used to deal drugs and he had dropped by their house to buy some. He had been a scrawny, pale, teenage boy whose face looked like it was tired from having to carry all of the world's problems on it. Clea looked like that at the time too. She had noticed the similarities between them. Scrawny; check. Pale; check. Rugged hair; check. Depressed face; check. He stood around the walkway, while Clea sat at the porch playing with stones. He ignored her until she spoke to him. "What do you want?""Uhm..." he was very nervous and kept rubbing his hands on his washed-out jeans. "Some of the stuff your dad sells." Clea looked at the door. A ruckus was going on inside between her parents, one that forced her outside. "Now's not the right time. Come back at night.""I need it now, though. Like, immediately." He was jittery. "You've been using it?""No, this is going to be my first time." She swallowed. "Why do you want to sta
"One thing I'm not gon' let you do is call me by that idiot's name."Clea gaped. "...what?""Get with the program. You're talking to Hunter right now, not Tarik. I don't want this meetup but I couldn't sleep because you're weighing me down." He eyed her. "So, what is it? What's the issue? Come on, drop it. You do know the first step to solving a problem is sharing it."Clea opened her mouth and stuttered. "...you're not Tarik?"He huffed. "No, we've clarified that."That was the problem. The man in front of her was very much Tarik. His shirt was unbuttoned, and his hair was curved to a different angle, but it was definitely, definitely, Tarik. And what was he saying about her soul?"And my soul was weighing you down, stopping you from sleeping?"He sighed like he was losing his temper. That, was a very non-Tarik move. Tarik was someone who you'd never guess was capable of losing his temper. "You were sad. I could feel it. And I couldn't sleep. Yes, it was your soul weighing me down."
It had been four days since Clea crashed her car into a tree and cracked the portal. Four days since the creatures regained hope and began working towards freeing themselves from the thousand-year-old hell. In that time, about a quarter of the population had perished.At first, the deaths served as a motivation for them. A reason to work harder towards getting out. But as more and more people died, that motivation turned into fear. The instrument they were using to try and break the portal was their energy. Their powers. The vampires used their super speed to launch great force against it. The shadow spirits dissolved their body form to try and get in between and push it open. The werecoyotes and the werewolves, well, they organised and watched. The vampires and shadow-spirits were using the last of their energy, and that resulted in them dying like ants. A revolt happened on the fifth day. They confronted the werecoyotes and werewolves and asked them to contribute, or they would st
Kali and Clea were startled awake by a scream that rang through the entire inn. Even subconscious, they could tell it was coming from the room opposite theirs. The room they left Hunter to sleep in, while they retired to the separate room Kali booked in anger. They sprang off the bed and dashed out, Kali behind Clea. The voice that screamed was familiar to Clea. Her guess was confirmed when she sighted the petite girl standing in front of the slightly ajar door. She rushed inside the room, pulling Rose with her and locked the door. "God, you're so extra," Hunter was saying. "Was the screaming necessary?"Clea was annoyed. "You aren't supposed to be seen here, did you forget that?" "Don't nag at me, I thought it was one of you. Did anyone warn me someone would be coming over?"At this point they all stared at Rose, she was hugging Clea tightly, her head pressed to Clea's chest. Clea gingerly wrapped her arms around the freaked-out girl. "Rose?""Yes, miss Clea."Kali gave Clea a sid
A huge weight, something unseen that had been pressing Clea down, dropped when she made that statement. She thought affirming her love would crush her, but it turned out, that what would've crushed her was not affirming it. She had been so scared to confess that to herself. Meanwhile, all this time what had been pulling her down wasn't the fear of loving him. It was the fear of not accepting that love. "...I'm always thinking of him. I'm always wanting to be around him. I think he's perfect. I can't seem to find a single flaw in him to be turned off by. And, and— and..."Rose was eager. Her brows raised as her eyes zeroed in concentration on Clea. Clea chuckled. "You must think I'm crazy for loving him.""I— don't." Rose turned back to her painting. She wasn't painting anything anyway. She was merely drawing lines of different colours of paint over themselves. "I don't really think he's a bad person. Most of us school kids don't. We've been warned lots and lots of times that he's dan
Two Volkswagen trucks sped through the forest, disrupting the quiet of the rainforest. They slowed down at a junction that not far from the forest entrance and took a diversion. The path they entered was no longer than two hundred metres before it was taken over by trees. But it was far enough to get the party to where they were headed.This party comprised two sets of people. The cops, including the sheriff himself, and the Heart-of-Town priests, including the Shaman. The Shaman came down from the first truck with exaggerated care. When she got down, a troop of six men clad in religious attire lined up in threes behind her, forming two lines. Behind them, the Shaman's daughter, Natasha, took her place. Seven cops flanked the entire group on all sides while the Sheriff stood beside the Shaman. The Shaman was a tiny, little woman. She was very petite. Unlike her daughter who stood tall and thick and looked strong, she was fragile. Her skin was so pale, it was more white than butter. A
Whatever came up and led to Tyler leaving early, it led them both to the forest. Clea followed him diligently and unnoticed with a cab. She half-expected him to go home, but he drove on and eventually parked at the front of the inn. That was when she confirmed something was up. It had gotten interesting. She stayed in the cab, watching him enter the forest path. Then she got down and followed him. Following him was pretty easy. As long as she stayed out of sight, kept her footsteps soft, and steered clear of decayed fallen leaves which could leave crunching sounds. Even though he walked straight ahead, he didn't walk on the path. This conveyed to Clea that he was avoiding being seen. She didn't know what she was doing following him. She didn't know what to think. Though she was following him based on the suggestion that he could be one of the dealers, she still couldn't bring herself to believe it. The Tyler she knew, the one her thirteen years old self met, had promised her, years a
In her head, Clea could already see the sheriff's fate if he failed to let go of Tarik. She could see his body flying through the trees, bumping into trunks and his bones breaking as he went. That vision would've been a reality if the Shaman hadn't stepped in at the last moment. She came from behind, just when Clea was preparing to launch an attack on the sheriff after 5 seconds of waiting. The Shaman placed her hand on the sheriff's and said something to Sherlock. He stepped back afterwards. Almost agitatedly. In his eyes which were full of fear, was a tint of awe. Not like Clea saw it. Immediately the sheriff's grip on him loosened, Tarik bolted. Towards Clea, and past her, to his house. Clea followed.He ran like someone deranged. He tripped multiple times, but every time he did, he got back up in a flash and continued running like he never fell. His right hand held his left arm as he ran. Blood rushed down it, coming from a gaping injury. Clea never caught up with him because sh