Reality has a cruel way of collecting its debts, even when the supernatural world is collapsing.
For Natalie, Monday morning didn't bring monsters or magic — only something far more mundane and terrifying: her bank balance.
She stood in the hallway of the university's administrative building, clutching a tuition-late notice.
Her great-aunt Martha — the only living relative and the woman responsible for her finances — hadn't deposited the money.
Not this month.
Not last month either.
Natalie tried calling.
Voicemail.
She forced herself to ignore the trembling in her hands — a mix of withdrawal from the bite and financial panic.
"I can't deal with this right now," she whispered, crumpling the paper. "Not after Kara."
But the world didn't stop for grief. If she didn't pay, she'd be kicked out of the dorm.
No dorm meant no roof.
No roof meant she'd become just another lost girl in New York.
She had to face Martha.
Aunt Martha's house was in Queens, in a neighborhood that had seen better days. When Natalie parked her battered car — nearly out of gas — she heard loud music blasting from inside the house.
It was two in the afternoon on a Tuesday.
Natalie climbed the porch steps, stepping around empty beer bottles, and opened the door.
The smell hit her like a punch: stale cigarettes, cheap liquor, sweat.
The living room was packed with strangers —Martha's bar friends — laughing loudly, playing cards, drinking as if tomorrow didn't exist.
At the center of it all, slumped in her recliner like a queen of decay, sat Martha.
A bitter woman, her face carved by addiction and indifference.
"Natalie?" Martha squinted, holding a glass of gin. "What do you want here? Shouldn't you be studying to become something in life?"
The room fell silent. The guests watched the unfolding drama with open curiosity.
"You didn't pay my tuition," Natalie said, her voice shaking with anger. "The dorm rent is overdue. They're going to throw me out, Martha."
Martha gave a dry laugh and took a sip.
"Oh yeah? And why should I pay?"
"Because it's my parents' insurance money!" Natalie shouted. "You're just managing it —it's mine!"
"That money was for your education," Martha corrected, struggling to her feet. She staggered toward Natalie, reeking of gin. "But I have eyes, girl. I saw your grades. I heard about the absences. You dropped out months ago. You turned into an addict, Natalie. Look at you — pale, skinny, shaking."
Natalie stepped back.
It was true. The addiction to Rose's bite. The trauma. The grief. All of it had wrecked her academic life.
But hearing it from the woman who was supposed to protect her hurt more than any blade.
"I'm going through a hard time," Natalie tried. "My friend Kara died."
"Everyone dies!" Martha snapped cruelly. "I'm not wasting what little is left of that money on a failure who can't even finish a semester. The money's gone, Natalie. I spent it. On me. Because I'm alive."
Natalie stared at her.
Saw the selfishness. The ugliness of humanity stripped of purpose.
"You spent my parents' money?"
"Go get a job." Martha waved her off. "Be a waitress. Or do whatever that pretty face of yours is good for. Now get out of my house. You're not my problem anymore."
Something broke inside Natalie.
The final thread tying her to normality — to the hope of an ordinary life — snapped.
"Fuck you, Martha," Natalie said coldly. "I hope you die alone in this shithole."
She turned and walked out, laughter from the drunk guests following her down the steps.
Back in the dorm, the loneliness was absolute.
Natalie sat on the floor, her back against the bed. The room was dark.
She looked around.
Books she couldn't bring herself to read.
Clothes that no longer fit.
A life that no longer made sense.
She started crying.
It wasn't pretty.
It was ugly — choking, broken sobs from someone who had lost the ground beneath her feet.
She cried for Kara, dead on a road in Romania.
She cried for Alice, lost to vengeance.
She cried for herself — for the innocent girl she'd been a year ago, before she learned monsters were real.
"I have nothing…" she sobbed. "I am nothing."
Her fingers brushed her neck. The skin was smooth, but the memory of Rose's bite still burned there.
The euphoria.
The power.
The absence of pain.
Humanity is a terminal disease, Natalie. And I'm offering you the cure.
Rose's voice echoed in her mind, clear and seductive.
Natalie lifted her head. The tears dried on her cheeks, leaving salty tracks.
She stared at the mirror.
Saw a weak girl.
Broken.
Poor.
Alone.
Prey in a world of predators.
"Enough," she whispered.
She didn't want to hurt anymore.
Didn't want to worry about money or family.
She wanted to be strong.
Wanted the power to hurt those who had hurt her.
Wanted revenge for Kara — and justice for herself.
Humanity had given her nothing but suffering.
Maybe it was time to try the other option.
Natalie picked up her phone.
Her fingers didn't shake anymore.
She searched for the contact she'd saved months ago, during a moment of weakness that now felt like destiny.
Rose.
She typed the message.
Short.
Final.
"You said the offer wouldn't last forever. Is it still open?"
The reply came seconds later.
"Always, sweetheart. Whenever you want."
Natalie stood.
She didn't pack.
There was nothing in that room she wanted to take into her new life.
She only grabbed her coat and the photo of her and Kara.
"I'm going to make them pay, friend," Natalie promised the picture. "But I won't do it as a human."
She left the room, closing the door on her mortal life, and walked into the night — ready to die and be reborn as the monster the world had forced her to become.