Chapter 3

The following day, I showered again, wrapping my arm again, and lay back down on the bed, feeling inexplicably exhausted.

Later, I mustered the energy to visit a doctor I found online. She confirmed that an animal had bitten me, took photographs, and collected samples of my blood and skin near the wound to identify the creature. After administering a shot, she jokingly told me not to get sick and die. When I mentioned that another doctor had said I was already dying, she gave me a peculiar look, laughed, and exited the office, saying she needed that laugh. She wished me a good day and said she'd see me in a week.

Four days later, I began to notice changes in my body.

While in the second period, I detected a heartbeat. Glancing out the window, I spotted a large dog. When I looked again, it had vanished. The hunger I felt during the third period the next day was overwhelming; the scents were tantalizing, which was strange since my classroom was far from the cafeteria, and I should only have been able to smell the funky ass gym boys'. For once, I was grateful for the different aromas.

In the hallway, I saw a tall, muscular man with brown skin, tattoos, and short hair standing by my locker. I lowered my head but looked up to excuse myself. He winked and smiled at me, prompting me to daydream about his kissable lips as he licked them while winking at me.

My reverie was shattered when Erika and her friends knocked my books from my hands and pushed me into the lockers. I was thankful the lockers were closed this time; the impact was less painful than if they had been open, and I didn't have to endure the laughter of onlookers because I had fallen inside the locker.

Standing by the locker, rubbing my arm, I felt the sting of tears threatening to spill. I blinked hard to hold them back; I couldn't give the new kid, or anyone, more ammunition to taunt me.

My skin grew hot, my fist clenched tight as my nails dug into my palm, and my breath became in uneven. I tried to steady my breathing, watching my chest rise and fall, but then the new kid surprised me by helping, gathering my books, and assuring me it would be okay. Our hands brushed briefly as he handed them to me, sending a wave of warmth through my body. My pulse racing so loudly I feared it was audible. Overwhelmed, I wanted nothing more than to flee. Glancing up, I caught his smile and, without a word, I dashed to the restroom. The unfamiliar rush of feelings left me bewildered; was this normal, or was something wrong with me? I refused to let him see my panic. I ran to the restroom into the stall, I berated myself for not even managing a thank you or asking his name.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I chastised myself.

Huddled in the restroom stall, I recognized the voices immediately. It was Erika and her entourage. Through the narrow gap, I saw them gossiping about the new guy. Erika was boasting about the adventure she planned to take him on, fixating on his soft lips and her intentions for them. The others giggled, calling her out for her boldness. Erika, unfazed, admired her reflection, sent a kiss to her mirror image, and strutted out.

Anger surged within me, my temper on the verge of taking over. I was moments away from confronting them, but they left just in time. The school bell rang, snapping me out of my fury, and I realized I had been crushing my phone in my hand. Shaken by my actions, I decided to head home.

During my walk, a familiar scent caught my attention. The same one lingering on my hand from his touch. Lost in thought, I barely registered the sound of footsteps, which ceased by the time I reached my doorstep.

Once inside, I stripped down and hopped into the shower. Removing the bandages, I was stunned to find the bite mark had vanished just a week after the incident. Getting out of the shower, I quickly dressed and went downstairs because I became extremely thirsty. While walking towards the kitchen, confusion set in, and that scent enveloped me again. Looking around downstairs, I could not find where the scent was coming from. Then my skin became heated like I had a fever. Went back into the kitchen to satisfy this unquenchable thirst despite draining every drink in sight.

Then, as suddenly as it came, the sensation passed, and the scent disappeared, and I was no longer thirsty. A knock at the door caught me off guard—who could it be? My relatives had keys, and I hadn't ordered anything. Walking to the door opening, I didn't see anyone outside, but a package awaited for me on the porch with a simple note: "Hope you feel better."

I stepped down to the curb, almost into the street, to see if I could spot a departing car, but there was none. Then it crossed my mind: could this be from my aunt and uncle? I dismissed the thought quickly; there was no way they would think of me and send a gift. Besides, it wasn't the time of the month when they usually came for their money.

I returned inside with the package. I smelled it, listened to it, and even shook it. I know, silly girl, it could be a bomb. Well, if it is, I'm dead. I sat down and began to read the label to ensure it was intended for me. There was no name, only my initials. Seeing S.B. on the box, I assumed it was for me.

Upon opening the box, I found a variety of items. Confusion set in as I didn't know who could have sent it. Among the contents were pictures of my parents, unfamiliar to me, likely from the past. A t-shirt, glasses and a card were also inside. The shirt carried the scent of my mother, and the glasses were reminiscent of something my father would wear. The card contained a love letter from my dad to my mom. I reclined on the sofa, holding these items, blushing as I read my father's words to my mother. I read the letter repeatedly, then noticed some misspelled words and misplaced capital letters, suggesting it was from their early dating years. But that didn't matter. I was simply overjoyed that whoever left this package had brightened my day. Now, I have a piece of their past to treasure even more.