You were really pretty, weren't you? Fashionable, popular... Few had a hair as bright blonde as yours, or a skin so perfectly tanned as yours. Scrunchies, low cut tops, loose socks, you dictated was what hip, and the other girls had no chance but to follow. Boys were all over you.

Which is why you usually weren't surprised when people ogled you on the street, or tried to throw a pickup line your way. That said, the guy following you today was a real weirdo. He kept coughing and stumbling, and looked ridiculously greasy and dirty. Were they letting like, beggars and stuff wander around town now?

You decided enough was enough, and turned to talk to him. Screw being stalked, better let him know his chances were nonexistent.

"Hey, dude. You, like, following me is like, super gross, okay? So, cut it out and go find a girl your level, cuz I'm tooooootally done with this, okay?"

No answer but a groan. You got angry.

"Yo, you listening? I'm like, totally not in the mood for-"

His hood fell backwards as you tried to push him. Empty eye sockets. Corpse-like skin. Impossibly sharp teeth.

You screamed, and continued to scream until he bit through your windpipe.


After you awoke, things changed. Or in other ways, didn't change. You still kept screaming, inwardly and outwardly.

You wanted to scream for help. You wanted to yell at the people to run, to get away. You wanted to beg to be killed.

Instead, all you could do was scream "attack this", "move there", "return to the Master", and a thousand other orders. None were your words.

After a while, the sound drowned out all thought. So you just screamed, and screamed, and forgot.