The damp moss was cool to the touch. The dew left by the afternoon rain soaked through Ren's jeans and blue jacket. His arms and legs were numb as he laid in the forest clearing. The lull of the creek not far off almost put him to sleep. The ache in his gums—the painful hunger in his stomach—kept him on the edge. He was tired enough to pass out, but as much as he wanted to sleep, he couldn't.

For weeks a need to kill, to rip a living creature apart, haunted him constantly. No amount of blood satisfied him. And paired with the need to kill was an unsettling feeling only cured by being in the forest. That was why he was there now. There was nothing interesting about the forest except maybe for the large mountain next to it named Crystal Mountain. 

The small town Montis was built at the base of the mountain only decades ago—far back when his grandparents had been children.

Hours must have past since he'd wandered out here. But wandering meant he didn't know where he was going. The buzzing that rattled his insides every time he wanted to kill left a feeling inside of him. Other than the need to drain the life of living creatures, he had this sense of longing. As if he were waiting for something. The anticipation was almost as scary as the increasingly unstable blood thirst.

His eyes slowly opened. The moonlight filtered through the bony branches. The shadows flickered over his face as he pulled his tired body from the forest floor. A shiver went through him as the wind made his damp clothes freezing for a second.

The moon followed him all the way home. It watched over him as it had done since he was little. When he was feeling lost, he would stay out on the back porch, letting the moonlight settle into his skin. It made the buzzing under his skin better. The light eased the feeling of chaos that plagued him—which always urged him to do things he knew deep down he didn't want to do. 

There were always times when it wasn't enough. Those nights he always found himself in the middle of the forest, not knowing how he'd gotten there, or if it was safe for him to leave. The small voice in the back of his head always talked him into sleeping out there until he was positive the buzzing was gone. Margret had to have noticed. But if she did, she didn't mention it.

He wouldn't allow himself in the same house his innocent mom was sleeping in when he got that feeling. It made him sick thinking about it. The walk back felt longer than usual. His eyesight was blurry with fatigue and a headache bloomed behind his eyes.

He wouldn't have to do this for much longer. He was turning eighteen next week and by the time his mom connected all the dots, he would be halfway to Sangui.

A gust of wind blew his jacket open. He shivered harder, catching the end of the jacket and trying to keep it together. The zipper had broken two years ago when Regan and his goons jumped him. They'd torn the blue jacket right off him. He'd hit the pavement as they poked and hit him with large sticks. Margret had been ready to fight anyone who'd touched him, but he argued to make it seem like it was her fault.

He wasn't proud of that either. But putting distance between them would keep her safe. He was okay with being the sacrificial lamb. She'd sacrificed enough for him.

It was time for him to pay his due.

***

There was a knock on his door. It snapped him out of his sleep. He jerked to the side, almost falling over the edge of his small twin bed. 

Bleary-eyed, he tried to rub the sleep from his face. "Yeah?"

The door opened. Margret poked her head through the crack.

She was smiling. That wasn't a surprise. 

"Hey. I have to go in early."

Ren struggled to get out of bed. The sheets wrapped around his legs like they were afraid of letting him go. He wanted nothing more than to fall back in their embrace, but he was afraid of letting his mom leave without the regular hug and kiss.

She wrapped him in her small arms, and he held her close for a brief second. 

"Love you."

"Love you, too," he answered. Even though it was a rehearsed line, said every single day since he could remember, there was no part of him that was tired of hearing the simple words. 

There was no doubt in his mind his mom loved him more than anything in the world.

He just hoped she knew how much he loved her back.

Margret pulled away with a soft sigh. She ruffled his curly hair. "Alright then. Don't sleep in too late. I want to get the kitchen clean when I get back and I'll need your help taking out the trash."

"Yeah, yeah." It didn't sound as stand offish when he was smiling, but she knew what to do. They'd gone through this a hundred times too.

She playfully smacked him. "Okay. I'm off."

The room fell quiet as she made her way out the front door. 

Ren stood in the hallway, leaning against the door frame, and waited for the sound of the car to fade. 

He was fine. Better than fine this time.

His heart was till beating and no one had tried to stake him today. Morning had just begun. It was a new day.

But the buzzing under his skin was rumbling. It was searching for something. Something he was afraid to find.

The day passed uneventfully. His mom came back a few hours later, and they cleaned up the kitchen. He took out the trash. The buzzing didn't stop, though. It was dull, an ache, an itch he couldn't quite scratch. Margret had taken notice of his odd behavior, but she hadn't asked. There were things she knew not to bring up. She knew when he'd rather keep her in the dark. 

Sometimes he wished she wouldn't listen to him. He wished she would make him tell her all the things he was doing and make him stop. He wished she would help him find out why he had these sudden urges.

Yet he knew on some level where that path would lead. Her life had been snatched away by a monster like him once. He wasn't about to be the second.

It wouldn't be long before he left all this behind. The warmth of his childhood home, his mom's love, and traded it all for an early death in the Mines. The money wasn't going to be enough to make up for all the things she had to give up when he was born. But it would be a start. 

And maybe, someday, she would forget she had a son. 

Maybe she could move on from the past, start a new family, and stop being the victim in this twisted story. 

Things were looking up.

***

Things were looking up.

It had all started when he walked into history class. The last three hours stuck in the small building with shit-heads had boiled to the point he wanted to gouge his eyes out. That would have given them something to talk about. It was easier when they were gossiping and not when they openly stared at him. There wasn't much he could do about it. Their stares were everywhere, running along his skin, piercing through him as if he wasn't a being.

Like he was an animal only there for their entertainment. 

He sat in the back in the corner. By the time the second bell rang, he'd pulled out his textbook and was idly doodling in his notebook. The blank page stared back at him as if it too were waiting for the whispers to start. 

Mr. Kale walked in, slamming the door behind him. He was a thin tall man with a wispy mustache that didn't help his aging features. He couldn't have been older than Margret, yet he looked twice her age. His grim eyes looked around the room, taking in the kids still talking amongst themselves though it was evident he wasn't in the mood for rowdiness.

Ren had dealt with Mr. Kale before. Living in such a small town meant elementary through high school were in the same building. It always meant Mr. Kale was completely done with each and every one of these kids' attitude. 

It would have been sweet revenge if Ren wasn't on the receiving end of Kale's bad attitude too. And of course, the fact that he was half-vampire only made Kale hate him more. 

Kale cleared his throat. The sound and the hard look Kale sent the entirety of the room was ignored by everyone but Ren. He was used to it as used to it as Kale was himself. Yet, the man was always seeking the respect he knew he was never going to get from his students.

"Quiet." Kale walked to the classroom board. The white contrasted against his pale red face. His eyes glared at the kids who couldn't read the room.

The chatter rose.

"I said quiet!"

That caught their attention.

For only a second before the classroom door opened.

Regan Masters might have been sent straight from hell to torture Ren. He was a pale dirty blond who wore torn jeans, work boots, and a camo jacket everywhere he went. When he wasn't smoking in the bathroom or slipping a drink from the bottle he kept in his almost empty backpack—which was no doubt was alcohol—he was starting trouble with anyone who would fight back. He wanted to rough any and everyone up. 

And he wanted them to try and rough him up in return.

Ren was an exception. Regan wanted to destroy him. He wanted to see Ren killed, burned, staked—it didn't matter. As long as Ren was dead and gone Regan would be more than happy about it.

Regan snapped the gum he was chewing. He leaned against the door frame, grinning as all eyes in the room fell on him.

Ren fought back a grimace. Regan was undoubtedly an attention whore. 

To cement what Ren already believed to be true, Regan waltzed in, swaying side to side. He took his time to the first row of seats, but before he could get any further, Kale called out to him.

"Mr. Masters. Take a seat."

Regan stopped. He blew a bubble and then snapped it out with his back molars. 

Kale didn't miss a beat. He picked up the trashcan and walked up behind Regan.

"Spit it out and take a seat." He tapped the side of the can to the desk in the front row.

Ren stabbed the tip of his pen into his notebook. The buzzing was coming back. The tension in the room called it to the surface. But the fight was done before it began. 

Kale turned away, giving Regan the chance to flip him off. Ren slumped further in his seat as if he was somehow involved in the embarrassing scene. He tried to close it off, close all his senses from what was happening in front of him. It only helped to hone in on the snickers echoing in the room. He was only somewhat relieved they weren't aimed at him. 

Kale ignored them all, his shoulders rigid as he cleaned the white board. He picked up the black erase marker and began to scribble things in haste. When he stepped back, Ren read the words.

He thought he was going to be sick.

Written in almost mocking capital letters was "HUMAN AND VAMPIRE WAR".

The room fell into a hush. Of course, that was when they decided to act like civilized people. Always when Ren wanted them to get rowdy and to take his mind off all the dark thoughts going through his head. This was exactly the time for them to make stupid jokes and make him feel like he really wasn't there.

No. Instead, this had to happen. Every year they talked about this dumb war that had happened long ago and it was like they were doing it so they had a reason to stare and gawk at him. 

It's the same as it was every year. Since middle school, they'd gone deeper into the death, bloody details, and the rise of the new country. They glossed over the fact that there was an ongoing political battle with Sangui over who rightfully owned this land. Reginae would rather pretend they were safe with their victory. 

And that there weren't vampires by the border who were happy to start another war over some fucking dirt and grass.

Ren tuned out the parts that got Kale a little too excited. It was usually about how thousands of vampires were staked and burned alive by the Hunter Society. He didn't need to take notes. He'd memorized enough of this shit to write his own goddamn book.

But it was a tradition no one was complaining about. As he glanced around his classroom now, he saw how invested these kids were in the history of their ancestors. Victory was nothing to be ashamed of, not even if it meant innocent people suffered. He couldn't say it was exactly their fault. The government had omitted so many things, shut out polarizing facts, that it was hard to put together the full story.

And that was why Ren didn't care about changing their minds about vampires or informing them how Reginae had slaughtered vampire children because of prejudice.

It was hard to feel sympathy for someone when their main food source was you.

"In 1824, a man by the name Joseph Mantel led the vampire forces into the country once known as the United States. Can anyone tell me what this battle was?"

Ren almost snapped the tip of his pen he was pressing so hard into the page. It felt like the room was closing in on him. 

Everyone knew the name Mantel. It was a stain on this small town he vaguely called home. Everyone was raised with that name drilled into their heads. Ren knew it was tied to hate and disgust. Joseph Mantel represented all the bad things that existed in vampires. He killed with no mercy, drank the blood of the innocent, and his end goal was to enslave humans.

He'd failed in the end. The war hadn't lasted more than a decade before the hunter Society became so efficient at killing vampires that it turned into a sport. Whatever humans vampires could get their hands on were already taking drugs that polluted their bloodstream.

Six years after the first battle, vampires were either killed or sold for entertainment. It wasn't rare to find vampire zoos, vampire side shows in circuses, or traveling vampire freak shows.

Kale walked to the front row. His eyes slowly scanned the room. Ren kept his eyes lowered, praying over and over that Kale would leave him alone. 

This was why he skipped all the time. Was there anything he needed to learn from these people? He would be far away from this town and all these useless facts would be a distant memory.

But the teasing and humiliation was going to follow him. He already knew the jabs, ridicule, and hate he had to deal with when he stepped into town was the only thing he carried home with him. 

He imagined he was home. His mom would get off work from Montis Medical Research and Hospice, dead on her feet, but a smile stretched across her face. They'd cook together, talk about their days as if either of them had fully enjoyed it, and then they would talk about what they were going to do when things finally changed.

A new house, a new town, and a new life.

That was all they were working for. When they got it, that was when they could start living.

They never talked about the war and they never mentioned Mantel.

Kale tapped the end of the marker on Regan's desk. Regan feigned obliviousness, flicking at the invisible lent on his jacket. 

"It was the battle of Judgement." Kale gave up, moving back to the safety of his desk. "Mantel and his men forced their way through the American border, slaughtering thousands. When he was finally captured, he was burned at the stake."

The class rustled.

Ren could feel his heartbeat in his throat. He had to fight to swallow. An ache formed at the pit of his stomach and along came the buzzing once more. 

As much as he liked to believe he could be a better person than what everyone thought he was, he was afraid it wouldn't be long before the buzzing became bloodlust.

And from there, he would truly be the monster they all thought he was.