Work Text:
California, June 1985
It was the last straw; Star (that's what she was going to call herself from now on) finally had enough. Earlier that evening, she had gotten screamed at and beaten by her parents after they picked her up from the police department for stealing. It's not like she had a choice; there was barely any food in the house, and she was starving. Her parents did have money, though; it was just that they chose to spend it all on alcohol and gambling instead of using it to pay the bills and go grocery shopping every once in a while. She was surprised they even came to pick her up; they were usually stoned out of their minds to even notice she was around at all.
Between the cigarette burns and the constant barratment, she was done. She shoved whatever she could into a worn backpack - a few pairs of clothes, a notebook, a pack of matches, and all the cash in her pocket, plus a few other things. It was well into the night, around 2 am, both her parents were asleep. She doubted they would even miss her; they never failed to mention how much of a burden she was on them. Star was almost eighteen now anyway; she was just speeding up the process of leaving the "nest"- so to speak.
She crept through the darkened hallway, careful as to not make a noise as she opened the door to her parents' bedroom and went straight to where the hook her mother's purse hung. Even though it was still pitch black, she could make out its faint outline. Star dug through it and pulled out the wallet and proceeded to take at least $20 in cash; she did the same with her father's, taking about $40. It was wrong, yes, Star knew this, but after what they put her through for the past 17 and a half years, they could do the bare minimum and pay for her bus ticket out of that boring, conformity-compliant town.
With funds in hand, Star left the bedroom and made her way to the stairs, taking extra care so as not to put too much pressure on them so they wouldn't squeak loudly. She took one last look at the house- it was almost peaceful in the pale moonlight- her eyes narrowed into a cold glare. She left and didn't look back.
Once Star got to the bus stop, she forked over the money in exchange for a ticket to Santa Carla. She had a friend there that she could stay with until she got back on her feet. Yeah, this would work out; this would be her new start. The old her was dead, gone, and buried the second she closed the front door. Star would be in Santa Carla by early morning, just a few more hours, and then she would be free.
The bus dropped Star off a few blocks away from the boardwalk; after all, it was the town's staple piece. They had stopped on the way there at a rest stop, where Star called her friend, Noah, to see if he could pick her up and if she could stay a few days on such short notice; he agreed after asking a few frantic questions. Now all that was left to do was wait. Star breathed in the salty ocean air, feeling the warm sun on her skin, taking in the surrounding area. She could see the boardwalk from here; it wasn't very crowded. The people who did hang around the boardwalk, though, seemed to be somewhat like her; lost and looking for something new to cling to. Santa Carla seemed like the place people went when there was nowhere else to go, something Star knew to be fact given her current situation. The last thing Star noticed before her friend picked her up was the abundant amount of missing persons flyers strung around the area; they never seemed to end.
Noah, her friend, greeted her with a bright smile. He was a good four years older than Star; he had lightly tanned skin, dirty blonde hair, and broad shoulders, dressed in a sleeveless band tee and worn blue jeans. Star liked Noah; he was kind and understanding in a way that he didn't need to ask a million questions to understand why someone would do something; he just knew. However, though, he was short-tempered at times, and that got him into some trouble back when he was in school. They had originally been neighbors, but when Star was eight, he and his family moved away, but they still kept in touch.
Noah did still ask her plenty of questions about why Star would ever willingly run away to Santa Carla in a teasing manner, loosely mentioning how it was the "murder capital of the world". For a moment, Star thought back to the myriad of missing person flyers she saw near the boardwalk, but it was quickly swept away as the two reached Noah's apartment.
The apartment was small and a little messy, but Star guessed that it would be. It was dark too; the windows faced opposite from where the sun was, so there was very little natural light. The walls were painted a forest green and were decorated with pictures of Noah and his family, which seemed to make the space feel more like home.
"Sorry about the mess- I, uh, didn't have much time to clean on such short notice," Noah said, breaking the silence.
Star turned around to face him. "No, it's fine. This is lovely, and thank you for letting me stay here while I get back on my feet. You were the only person I knew to call," she said weakly.
Noah took her backpack off of Star's shoulders and put it on the couch, which was covered in blankets. "Nah, no problem, I'm glad you're here and far, far away from them."
Noah had helped Star settle in and made up the couch for her since there wasn't a spare bedroom, and he showed her around his apartment, letting her know where everything was and that she could help herself to anything. It was nice, Star thought, being and feeling so welcomed. The next few days were a blur; it was mainly just Star getting more accustomed to her new home, but she noticed that Noah never went out at night; she though was weird given Santa Carla's scene for nightlife.
"Noah," Star spoke while they were in the car one day. "Do you ever go out at night?"
His brown eyes widened abit at the question; he waited a moment before responding. "At night, especially around the boardwalk...Santa Carla...well, it's called the 'murder capital of the world for a reason. The more eccentric types come out... The punks, the bikers, oh especially the bikers. It's just better to stay away from that crowd, so, uh, no, not really."
Star thought for a moment. "Well, what if we did go to the boardwalk and you were with me? I mean, there's strength in numbers, right?"
Noah's hands gripped the wheel tighter. "Eh, I don't think that's a great idea."
"Please! I just want to see it, just once! Maybe we could go and rent a movie after?"
"Ugh, fine, sure, I know a place."
The boardwalk was everything Star could have hoped for. Its neon lights and loud music overwhelmed her senses in the best way. She stared at the neon "Santa Carla boardwalk" sign for at least a good minute. Noah looked over at her and tugged on her arm, pulling her out of her trance and signalling for them to start walking.
Star didn't really remember much after that. Bits and pieces came back to her in the morning after. Star remembered walking down the crowded boardwalk to stop at a bookstore? No, comic store, she corrected herself, because Noah had to pick up the newest edition from a series he liked about vampires. Then they went to the VHS rental places he was talking about; apparently it was called 'VideoMax', named after the owner who had recommended them some comedies, which they had rented.
Star couldn’t quite explain why, but when she thought back to the man with the impossibly thick-rimmed glasses, there was a sense of danger that didn’t quite make sense given his charming and happy demeanor. However, Star ran into too many people who seemed friendly at first but flipped like a switch the second she became inconvenient.
The next part…the latter half of the night. Oh god. She and Noah had gone to the free concert on the boardwalk where she had met a biker gang, who were all quite attractive, especially their leader. What was his name again? Something with a D? It didn’t matter right now. They had invited her to party with them, an offer Star happily accepted. Noah had long since disappeared, drawn away by a pretty redhead.
They took her down to a secluded area on the beach where a group of surfers was blaring obnoxious pop music, but they had beer and welcomed the group of rough-looking young adults with open arms. Star had smoked so much weed, courtesy of a blond rocker in the biker gang and other generous persons, and drunk her fill on cheap booze until she could hardly walk. It was there at that party that she had spotted her long-forgotten friend who was making out with said redhead from earlier, but was swift in dragging Star away from all the excitement as soon as he realized she was there and so were the strange group of rockers. One thing that Star could not forget was the intense stare of the leader’s icy blue eyes as he watched the pair leave. He looked hungry, desire and…something else, like he wanted to devour her, literally.
Star groaned as she got off the couch, deciding that was enough reminiscing, and it was time to get ready for the day, or what was left of it, given it was already noon. She combed her hair, attempting to tame her wild mane of hair, having little success, bruised her teeth and changed her clothes, then she went into the kitchen and grabbed a box of cereal to snack on, eating it straight from the box.
A few minutes later, Noah came wandering out of his bedroom, hair tossed from sleep, eyes half-lidded, still half asleep. He let out a barely audible “Good morning” as he went to make himself coffee. It was his off day from work, so he enjoyed the simple pleasure of getting extra rest after a long night. Once he was situated and much more awake, the two talked on and off about what to do for the day, and Star had loosely mentioned getting a job. Her friend beamed back at her and said that he saw on the boardwalk that the carnival games were hiring and that she should go check it out when she had the chance. A few hours later, Star was now the proud operator of the ring toss!
She was there from 12 pm to 8 pm, Monday to Friday, and it paid somewhat decently, enough to pay Noah something for letting her stay at his apartment and save some cash for when she eventually got her own place. After her shift, Star would explore the boardwalk, usually going into one of the many record shops to pass the time until one of the Lost Boys found her (usually David or Paul). After that, she would spend the night with them, usually partying, drinking, and causing healthy amounts of chaos. Life was good. This was what life is supposed to feel like; Star often thought that.
Nothing was perfect, though. During her shifts on the boardwalk, many of the players were not always the kindest when they failed to win a prize, especially a certain group of Surf Nazi’s, who were the rival gang to the Lost Boys. They had noticed she was their newest member and made it a point to make her life a living hell. Near-constant harassment and making sexual comments about her were an often occurance. They never tried anything physical, aside from a shove here and there; oh, how desperately Star wanted to knock them down a peg, but she was on the clock, and she really needed this job.
When Star got back to Noah’s apartment in the early hours of the morning, always before sunrise, Noah was up, getting ready for work, always having a disappointed look on his face. They had gotten into a few arguments on the subject of Star’s nightly escapades. Noah had made it very clear how much he didn’t like the Lost Boys, explaining how they had been terrorizing Santa Carla and its residents for years and how they were a crowd you really didn’t want to get wrapped up in.
Star knew about their reputation, had seen them prove why they had it countless times, but there was something that drew her to them, something that made her keep coming back, night after night. They made her feel like she belonged, like she was loved, like she was someone. Nonetheless, Star continued to do what she wanted, and the tension between the two rose, especially when she said she was dating David. That did not go over well.
She and the boys usually went to Hudson’s Buff, into a cave that used to be the “Hottest resort in Santa Carla, until the big one hit in 06’”- according to David. Dwayne would usually sit on the weathered leather couch, reading a book while Marko either danced with Paul near his boombox or worked on a new sewing project. David and her were commonly found near the back of the main lobby having sex against one of the rocky cave walls. Star had gotten used to the strange coolness of his skin- she found comfort in it. Though, when they weren’t doing that, they were with the others, laughing and smoking, just being dumb teenagers and enjoying whatever the night had to offer.
Tonight was different though; after her shift at the ring-toss, Noah was supposed to pick her up, and they would rent a movie and have a night in. Noah met Star on a bench a quarter after eight, a half hour before sunset, and they headed down to where he had parked his car, a distance that shouldn’t have felt so long. They had reached the end of the boardwalk steps; they were standing just underneath the boards, and they were about to keep walking until one of the Surf Nazi’s Star had not-so-kindly told to screw off earlier that day appeared and stopped them.
“Hey man, we don’t want any trouble; we’re just trying to go home-” Noah spoke calmly, though his body was tense. The man with the white stripe in his hair cut him off.
“I’m sure you don’t want any trouble, but her?” He gestured to Star. “She’s been a real pain. Might as well send a message to the rest of them. What are ya gonna do now that your boyfriend isn’t here to protect you, hm?” The Surf Nazi spoke in a mocking tone. Star didn’t notice that three others were lingering behind them, waiting for their leader's signal to strike. Noah threw the first punch. Star knew his bad temper would get him killed one day.
Fists flew through the air; the sound of bones cracking echoed around them. They were doing well, for about three seconds. Star had gotten one good punch in, but then someone grabbed her arms from behind, holding her in place. She struggled against the hold, but then she looked over to Noah, who hit the ground with a thud after a particularly rough hit. They were kicking him now. In the head, in the stomach. Then they lifted him up and held him there as the leader pulled out a switchblade. Noah looked back at her, his eyes heavy and glazed over. He’s going to die. He’s going to die, and it’s all my fault.
The other Surf Nazi threw another hit at him for good measure. Then both of their attentions were turned to Star. To say she was terrified was an understatement. Her eyes were glassy, threatening tears; she could feel bruises already forming on her body. The leader looked at her and snarled. He cupped her cheek with his rough, dirty hand, keeping eye contact as he threw a punch with a heavy amount of force to her stomach. Star wanted to double over, but she couldn’t because of the strong arms restraining her. With his other hand, he brought the blade up to her face and drew a line across her opposite cheek, and it hurts. The blood begins to pool at the incision; pain erupts at the spot. A stray tear, just one, falls from her widened eyes; he wipes it away with his thumb, digging his nail into the skin as he does it. Then he removes his hand, and he spits onto her face. He brings his attention to the one holding Star, nodding, a signal to let her go, and Star hits the ground, hard.
Through half-lidded eyes she watches them laugh as they walk away. Her eyes narrow as she notices the metal of the switch blade glint in the dying sunlight; it was still drawn. Star summons all the strength in her body, even thugh her body is screaming at her to stay down, she gets and runs towards the group and seizes the knife, easily prying from the leader’s hand and as he turns to look back at his assailant, she plunges the the blade into his chest and belly repeatedly until Star drew it out one more time and his body fell. When Star looked up, his friends were gone. Then Star looked down.
The body was limp. Blood was pooling around him. Star was sure she was covered in it; she faintly felt it spray on her face, clothes, and hair. She had killed him. She had never killed anything before. What had she done?
Star didn’t know how she made it back to the cave, only that she was there now. Dwayne, Marko, Paul, and David surrounded her, a possessive and angry look in their eyes she didn’t notice due to still being in shock. The knife was still in her hands. They were shaking. The boys were taking this far better than they should have. They were comforting her, whispering sweet words in her ears, and they wrapped a shawl around her shoulders; she had left it there the night prior. She clutched onto it for dear life. Then David brought out an ornate wine bottle and offered her a drink.
“If you drink this, no one will ever hurt you again; you’ll never be alone, you’ll be one of us, forever.” His words had an unusual gentleness to them. He undid the cork.
Star looked up at him with those big brown eyes and took the bottle hesitantly. Then she raised it to her lips. She didn’t look back.
The second the red liquid touched her lips, Star immediately felt it’s affects. Suddenly, she didn’t feel the same jitteriness; her nerves were calm, and she felt an unnaturally strong high. She forgot about the blood that covered her and the crime that she had committed and what had happened to her friend. All she knew at the moment was what was in front of her. That she was with her boys, David, Paul, Dwayne, and Marko, and that they were happy for her. She didn’t know why, didn’t care why. She was just happy. If Star was less out of it, though, she would have noticed that Dwayne had left after talking to David and that he didn’t return until she had fallen asleep. They had helped clean the blood off her body and out of her hair, giving her an oversized (for her at least) band tee and a loose pair of jeans to wear since hers were non-salvageable.
Star awoke the second night with a scream. The high she felt earlier had worn off long ago, and the reality of the situation set in. Her breath was quickening, and her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest from how she was hyperventilating. She drew her legs into her belly and held them there with her arms. Where was she? What was going on? What happened to Noah?
It took a minute for her to recognize the cave's familiar scents and textures. She was on a couch. Not Noah’s couch, no. This was worn leather, like the one back in the sunken hotel. She could feel the rough texture beneath her, made soft by years of wear and tear. She could hear the sound of heavy boots hitting the stone floor deep in the cave, where there was no echo, though somehow she heard it clear as day. Star could swear she could smell the stench of cigarettes and worn leather, though none of the boys were close enough to even get a small whiff of it. It was like her senses had gone into overdrive.
Then there was the hunger. She was starving; it felt like her insides were being eaten alive. Star had been hungry before, had nearly starved, but this, this was unlike anything she had ever felt. It was strong, and it was powerful, and it was killing her. Star brought her legs impossibly closer into herself to try to ease the cramping in her stomach. The footsteps were getting louder; someone was getting closer. Hopefully it was David or maybe Paul. She liked Paul; he had good taste in music. She could hear talking, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying; the pain was so strong.
“Oh Star, Star, Star, Star.” A hand found its way into her unruly curls, wrapping a finger around one of the strands.
Star decided then to look up and saw that it was David who had a hand in her hair, petting it gently. The others were there too. Marko was on her left, Paul on her right, and Dwayne in front. They all stared at her with an intense gaze, like they were scared she would run away. Ignoring the pain, Star turned around to face David.
“What did you do to me?”
The outcome of telling Star that she had drunk blood and was now a half-vampire was…not great. There was a lot of screaming, mainly from Star, some from the others. Not out of anger, never anger, just annoyance. It was always rough in the beginning; she would chill out, eventually. Then she started to throw things. That was… not fun. It was mainly just small rocks; it wasn’t like she could actually hurt them, so it was fine.
Then Star’s fury was redirected onto the surfer of last night, and all the pain and all the sorrow came pouring back into her. She was in one of the darker spots of the cave wallowing and crying her eyes out over the fact that she had killed someone; the cops were probably looking for her by now. She didn’t even know what had happened to Noah. Was he even alive? God, that thought made it worse. She began to cry even harder this time; tears poured down her cheeks.
Eventually, David had let it slip that someone did find Noah’s body, and he was rushed to the hospital, only to die of internal bleeding in the brain. Star had cried all her tears by the time the sun came up, and she felt the pull of morning lull her into sleep. Noah was the only one who had shown her kindness when she needed it, had let her stay with him, and didn’t pry for answers when she showed up. Noah was a good person, and he was dead now because of Star’s stupid decisions. Dwayne had mentioned that he took care of the Surf Nazi’s body, and no one had suspected Star of anything other than not showing up for her shift at the ring-toss.
The days that followed passed in a blur. All of them had started to treat her like she was something delicate, bomb delicate; like saying or doing one wrong thing would make her blow a fuse. She did a few times, always hated herself afterward for doing it, but they had turned her into a vampire! They killed people, real people with real lives. People who had families, people who had children to take care of. Star could not- no, would not ever become like them.
On the third night they tried to get her to feed. They had dragged her out of the sunken hotel and onto the bright lights of the boardwalk; a place she once loved now turned rancid with how the sights and sounds plagued her senses. She could hear the chorus of a million heartbeats and could smell the delicious scent of blood- it made her mouth water and her fangs prick out from her gums.
Then they went to a more secluded part of the beach, down to a homeless encampment. They attacked without mercy, ripping out the throats of their victims. It was intoxicating, the smell radiating off the bodies. Her fangs elongated, and she opened her mouth as David tossed one of the men towards her. They all loomed above her, mouths dripping with blood, their faces contorted with shining gold eyes that glowed in the darkness.
She wanted to bite down and quench her undying thirst, but then she looked at the man’s face. It was contorted into a pained expression. This man was in agony because of them.
“You’ll never grow old, Star, and you’ll never die, but you must feed.”
Tears pricked at her eyes; she couldn’t kill this man.
“I can’t- I can’t do it,” she spoke as she looked back over to her food- no, to the person lying in front of her with a pitied expression.
“Yes, you can.” David tilted her face up to look at him- to look at the monster she would soon become. “You’ve killed before, Star; you can do it again. It will be easy this time. Just give in.”
Giving in meant losing a part of herself, losing her humanity. To becoming a monster like them. Star was better than this. She would not give in, and he would resist the call of the blood for as long as she could. Star would not go down without a fight. Star marched off into the sand dunes, leaving the horrific scene behind her; she didn’t return until the next night.
Months passed- it was now early November, and the hunger was just getting worse. No matter how many rats she drained, it was never enough. It worked for a little while, then her body got used to it, and the hunger intensified. Not much had changed since she turned.
She and Paul would still get high on the beach; Marko and her would still compete on who could steal the most in one night (Marko usually won). Dwayne would rant to her about a book he just read while he worked on their bikes. Star and David, though… There was definitely tension; Star had truly started to resent the man, but at the same time she loved him. If he didn’t turn her, she would be alone, homeless, and most likely rotting in a prison cell. They were still the same friends she loved dearly, but now she knew what they did to survive…which Star understood, but could not condone.
She was at war with herself constantly. Both sides of her nature clawing at her to choose. Star wanted to be with them forever, to be a Lost girl, but she could not pay that price. She knew she would eventually, but she would worry about that later; all she had to do was make it through the night.
It was January, barley any people were out in the freezing weather. It wasn’t unbearably cold, but being dead and being half-dead made it feel like it was freezing. With fewer people outside at night, it had gotten harder to hunt; they drank every two weeks instead of twice per week. One night, out of a drunken haze, they had asked if Star would help to lure unsuspecting humans into the cave and, in return, they would let her drink from them. Star reluctantly agreed; second-hand blood was better than starving in a cave in the dead of winter.
It had worked surprisingly well. Star would pretend to be a helpless girl in need of shelter from the cold winds at a house on the outskirts of Santa Carla, then once inside, she would invite the four vampires into the warmth of the home, and they would drink their fill. Alternatively, she would wander around and find hopeless individuals in need of a break from the harsh climate and claim she knew somewhere warm to stay during the night, then lead them down to the cave. It was horrible; Star knew this, and she promised herself that this would stop as soon as the weather got warmer and she could feed off the boys without having to help procure the blood in the first place.
Star was a horrible liar, especially to herself.
Even when the boardwalk started to regain some of its lure, and it became more populated, Star still brought boys down to their deaths. Star could stop whenever she wanted to, but she didn’t want to. The taste of blood was addictive, and she was tired of being hungry every night when she awoke. Even if she was still drinking stolen blood, it was still better than taking the final step.
Less people die this way is what she told herself every dawn, though it still didn’t rid her of the guilt; it was destroying her.
As Star became more and more of a recluse in their group, she had begun to think of running away. That if she ran away from David, the man whose blood was in her veins, maybe, just maybe, the intensity of the hunger would diminish, and she could live a normal life without the bloodshed that amounted to nothing.
However, that thought was quickly dismissed as one night Dwayne had come into the cave holding a broken and bloodied body in his arms. A little boy he had found on the side of the road- left for dead. Star had never seen Dwayne look so upset as he begged David to turn him. His usual stoic demeanour was cast completely aside. David eventually gave in, only after Dwayne had promised that the child would be his responsibility and that as long as he didn’t make his first kill, he would continue to age, slower, but still. Being stuck as a ten-year-old boy for the rest of eternity was a hell in itself.
Star watched with a newfound horror as the two pressed the jeweled bottle to the boy's lips. She watched Dwayne watch the boy as his injuries slowly disappeared and his heartbeat became steady. Star didn’t know why Dwayne cared so much about this child he found, but he did, and Dwayne usually had a good reason for doing things; she just hoped that they didn’t live to regret this, as she was sure they were regretting turning Star.
The boy’s name was Laddie- atleast that’s what the boy had told them when he woke up two days later, sleeping through the worst of the transformation. They cleaned him up, trimmed his hair, and got him new clothes since his were wrecked. He was a surprisingly good addition to their gang. He was sweet and full of life. Oftentimes Star would look after him when the boys went hunting- he didn’t need to see that. They told Laddie what they were and what he was, explaining that they needed to drink blood to survive, but he had yet to see how they got the blood.
They rode the carnival rides- Laddie really liked the roller coasters; he said it felt like flying- if only he knew- they won prizes at the game stands. Star did get many a mean look from her old boss that she walked out on a year ago, but she didn’t care much. Sometimes Marko or Dwayne would win one of the big prizes for their youngest member- Laddie was ecstatic every time.
Life was good on the Sata Carla boardwalk; it was a distraction from the hunger that, for Star, grew worse and more powerful every day. Either they would bring Laddie a thermos of blood, or he would drink from one of their wrists. Star always drank from one of their necks, almost always David; it was sensual and passionate but also desperate, and it was always over too quickly. It usually led to sex between the pair, which was a plus. Though that depended on how pissed she was at their leader; it changed night to night. They fought at least once a week.
During the winter of 86’ Laddie joined Star’s act of being helpless and in need of a warm place to sleep; only now, Star made sure he couldn’t see the massacre that would arise while Dwayne prepared his “meal”.
When they had a night in, Marko would often give Laddie a sewing lesson or teach him about his pigeons. “This one here is Matilda,” he said, gesturing to the bird on his shoulder.
Dwayne would try to teach him how to read, and Paul would join in with a cassette or a record in his hand and point to the band title, saying something like “M is for Metallica, you like Metallica right?” The three of them would then launch into a fit of giggles and laughter. Even David couldn’t help but smile.
Speaking of, he and Laddie didn’t talk much. Sometimes they would play a board game together; the young boy was surprisingly good at chess, or Laddie would sit at the foot of David’s wheelchair and play with whatever he found entertaining. As much as he hated to admit it, David really did like the kid. David also knew that Laddie was much better off with them than with the people he was with before Dwayne had found him.
Laddie didn’t talk much about his life before the Lost Boys, but it had sounded like he was kidnapped and being brought across state lines, somehow escaped, landing on the back roads of Santa Carla where Dwayne had found him. Dwayne did ask about his parents once, but the kid had burst out crying, stuttering incoherent sentences about how they were gone. It didn’t matter now; he was safe and with people who cared very deeply about him, who would kill to keep the littlest member of their pack safe (Star included if push came to shove).
Laddie did grow two inches that year; it was promising that he wouldn’t stay little forever, and everyone was happy about that. Laddie didn’t feel the call of the blood like Star did. She didn’t know if it was because of how young he was or because they had sated it from the beginning, but Star knew one thing.
That was by the summer of ’87; the hunger was no longer calling her name, it was screaming it. For the past week, the stomach cramps were so bad she couldn’t leave the cave. That’s when she had chosen to take the final step; to make her first kill. David let her pick out who she was to slaughter. A brunette boy, around her age, couldn’t be over eighteen, with bright blue eyes looking at her like she was the most stunning thing he’d ever seen. Star very well might have devoured the boy- no, not a boy- his name was Michael. If David didn’t intervene, asking her to choose someone else.
David never asked for anything, so she did as he wanted, not understanding why until the following night, when they brought him back to the cave and handed him the jeweled bottle.