Thunder cracked across the sky, loud enough to rattle my bones. Rain fell soaking through my clothes as my mother's hand clutched mine, pulling me through the dark forest. My feet slipped in the mud, lungs burning as I tried to keep up with her desperate pace.
I could see the fear in her eyes as we ran in the woods as thunder was the only light that showed our paths.
"You can't keep running," a voice boomed from somewhere I couldn't see. It was deep like an ancient voice, like it came from the ground itself. My chest tightened as it sent fear down my spine as my mum squeezed my hand trying to reassure me.
"This is who she is. You can't hide from it forever."
"She's not a monster!" my mother shouted back, her voice breaking against the storm loud and it echoed in the forest. Her grip on my hand was fierce, almost painful, but her words were fiercer. "I'll find a way. She won't become one of you!"
"I'll save her at any cost"
The thunder roared again, drowning out everything else, and the forest around us melted into shadows.
That's when I woke up.
My body jerked on the mattress, heart racing, my sheets felt cold like I was in the rain. It took me a second to realize the sound of the storm was gone. The only thing I heard was my ragged breathing and the faint ticking of the old clock on the wall. My hand was still clenched tight, as if my mother had been there seconds ago. But of course, she wasn't. Her last statement is still ringing in my head.
That damn dream again.
I dragged my palm down my face, sweat cooling against my skin. I'd been having that same dream since I was eight years old. Ten years of the same rain, the same forest, the same voice telling me I couldn't escape what I was. I hated it and I hated how real it always felt. Like it wasn't a dream at all but a memory waiting for me to acknowledge it.
But I wasn't a monster.
At least,I don't know of such things.
I pushed the blanket off and sat up. My bedroom was dim, curtains drawn, the smell of disinfectant faint in the air. The house always smelled like that now. Medicine, Sterility it was a constant reminder that my mother wasn't the same woman who once pulled me through the rain, promising to protect me.
Now she could barely stand and I promised to take care of her as she had been my father and my mother. I didn't know if I had one.
I got up quietly and padded across the creaking floorboards to check on her. The door to her room was cracked open, and I slipped inside. She was there, lying on the bed, her body thin and frail against the sheets. Her chest rose and fell slowly, almost too slowly, but it was the only sign that showed she was still alive and the sound of her shallow breaths twisted something inside me.
She didn't stir when I pulled the blanket higher around her shoulders. She hadn't had the strength to talk much lately.
"Morning, Mom," I whispered anyway and I kissed her head.
My throat tightened. "I'll figure something out."
I always said that, even when I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep it up.
I was eighteen now, with nineteen only a few months away, but I felt older. I didn't have the freedom to think about college parties or hanging out with friends the way other girls my age did. My life had narrowed down to two things which was keeping my mom alive and keeping myself out of trouble.
It wasn't glamorous.
Most days I barely dragged myself to school, and when I did, I felt like a ghost drifting through the hallways. The other girls whispered about me .
I was the blonde with the "innocent" face and hazel eyes that drew men in whether I wanted them to or not. I'd caught enough stares from teachers, customers, strangers to know I stood out, and it didn't make my life easier. If anything, it made the women around me glare harder, whisper sharper.
So I kept my head down. Went to class when I had to. Worked long shifts at the restaurant when I didn't. And every dollar I made went straight back into bills, rent, medicine.
It still wasn't enough.
I hummed a song my favorite song mom and I always sang when I was younger when she was perfectly fine as I got dressed for work and any lateness would be deducted from my pay.
By the time I got dressed for work and made the short walk into town, I had forced the dream out of my head. At least for now. The restaurant was already buzzing when I pushed the door open. The smell of fried food and coffee hit me first, followed by the clatter of dishes and chatter of customers.
"Look who finally made it," one of the girls at the counter muttered under her breath, her smile fake as she brushed past me. Her name was Lydia and I hadn't crossed her path but somehow she seems to hate me since the first day I stepped into this place.
I ignored her. They always said things like that behind my back. It either thinks she's too pretty, or she's too quiet, too whatever. It didn't matter anymore to me.
I tied my apron and got to work, plastering on a polite smile for the customers even as my mind drifted.
By the end of my shift, my feet ached and my patience was thin. That's when I overheard two of the cooks talking in the back.
"Pays triple what you'd make here in a week," one of them said, his voice low but excited.
"Yeah, but you'd have to be crazy," the other replied, shaking his head. "That place is cursed. You know what people say about them."
I pretended not to listen as I wiped down the counter, but my ears sharpened. My stomach flipped when I heard the words "job offer".
Later, when the others had finished their work for the day and gone home, I asked one of the servers I got along with Mia. She was a student like me and friendly.
"what they were talking about".
She gave me a look, chewing her lip like she wasn't sure if she should tell me. Finally she leaned closer. "It's some kind of undercover work. They're paying people just to go into this place, record what they see, and bring it back. Discreetly. No questions asked."
"Why?" I frowned.
"Because nobody knows what the hell goes on in there." Her voice dropped even lower. "People say it's dangerous. Like, really dangerous. The kind of people you don't mess with live there. Some don't come back. And if they do… they're not the same."
Her words should have been enough to make me walk away.
But I couldn't stop thinking about the money.
Triple what I made here in a week. That could cover medicine and our rent. Maybe even enough to save some.
I felt the familiar war inside me fear clawing at my gut while desperation whispered louder. Every bone in my body told me not to get involved. But then I thought about my mother, about the way her chest rose so faintly when she slept, about how thin her wrists looked.
I couldn't keep living like this. She swore she would protect me and I needed her to be on her feet. I remembered the different nurses that came to give her medications from time to time and how they looked at me with pity as if I was holding on to nothing.
I reminisced about our past. My mom was a lively lady and she was so pretty I got my blonde hair from her. How she always told me bedtime stories and we'll cuddle together. She always spoiled me and gave me whatever I needed. I knew I wouldn't have had to work if she wasn't lying bedridden now after we had moved to this place.
I needed more.
And maybe… just maybe… This was the only way to get it. I'd get in there, do the undercover work and slip out. I don't need to find out why they were investing in the people at Atlas.
After deciding to apply, I decided to close for the day when I overheard two men outside the restaurant whispering about the same place.
"No one goes into Blood Moon territory unless they've got a death wish."
My blood chills as I look down at the flyer in my hands. The job address was the same place and it seemed like these men knew something about it.