2

I watch him try to stand and my heart skips a beat. I see that familiar tension in his body. He's afraid. He's afraid of me. The thought makes me turn cold.

He doesn't move. Not because he's unsure, but because the house? it's holding him. I didn't even realize it was. Usually the house listens to me, bending to my will. This time, I know I didn't signal it to hold him here. I'm not sure if I even want him to stay. Part of me wants to let him leave forever, knowing that he is simply too good for me. Yet, part of me feels glad that he's stuck. He might stay with me. Maybe this time, it'll be different.

"Stay," I whisper, barely able to speak. My voice is ragged, barely audible. It's as though my words are being stolen off of the tip of my tongue. My throat has gone dry, lips gone numb, and I can't seem to find the strength to speak any louder. I've never felt this nervous before. I need him. I need him more than anything - more than the blood that courses through my veins. But I don't want to need him this way. Not in the way that I have needed everyone else that I have lured into my home. I want to be? better for him. I want to be who I was before all of this - before the blood, before the rituals, before this darkness swallowed me whole.

The house and spirits scream at me, clawing at my mind, urging me to embrace them. Why fight it? They whisper to me. He belongs to you now. Let him stay. Forever.

But a part of me wants to be better for him. I want to be with him again, laugh with him again, love with him again. I can see him looking for the girl I used to be. He searches my entire being, and it's as if he wants to swallow me whole in order to inspect me fully. But I am no longer that girl. There is only this being that has grown within me, from the darkness of the house, from the stillness of life without him.

"I can give you what you need," I say, voice low and pleading. "We have something special."

"I need a breath of fresh air," he sighs, chuckling harshly. His voice sounds sharp and jarring, instead of calming and loving. Still, I will comply with his wish. If not out of my care for him, then out of the need of the spirits. The thirst for blood.

"Follow me." I lead him through the house, each step heavier than the last. The air is thick with unspoken tension, but I can feel it within his quickened breaths and nervous chuckles.

The door to the garden creaks open, the cool night air brushing against my skin. The garden is quiet, the only sound is the distant rustling of trees, as if even the spirits are holding their breath, waiting to see what will happen next.

"Do you remember this place?" I ask, glancing back at him.

He doesn't answer right away, his eyes scanning the once-vibrant flowers. "Yeah, I remember," he murmurs. "We used to come here after school. I'd pick you some of my favorite flowers." He lets out a chuckle. This time, it's more genuine - almost sincere. "Your mom would always scold me for ruining her garden."

I offer him a smile, hoping he can't see the tears forming in my eyes. I never get like this. But he brings back all of these memories. Everything that I once had.

"I'm not that person anymore," I say quietly. "I don't know if I can ever be that person again."

"Who are you now?" He asks in a strained voice. "What have you become?"

His words cut deep, but they are a question I can't escape.

"I've become what I needed to be," I whisper as I brush my hand against his arm. "To survive."

His body tenses at my touch. But he doesn't know what it's like to have nothing left but this house and its whispers to crave a connection so badly that you'd do anything to make it last.

" I can't do this right now." His voice breaks as he says it. My heart aches in response.

"You can. We can." I take another step towards him. "Just stay." I feel that hunger again, deep inside of me, pulling at my every nerve. I want to pull him back into the house and make him see. But I know, deep down, that if I force him, if I make him stay like all the others? then I will lose the last part of the girl I used to be.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, and I can hear the regret in his voice.

"You don't have to leave," I say. "Please, stay."

I feel the house, the spirits, pushing harder now. They want him. They long for him just as much as I do. But they crave him in a different way. Just like they've wanted everyone else.

I don't know how much longer I can fight them.