They didn’t want to go. They were afraid to. But they couldn’t be around him when he was a monster, when he turned into this creature as soon as the sun went down.

With a hesitant breath, they creaked open the door. There was a loud screech, and a click, and they froze, their manicured nails holding tightly onto the doorknob.

After a breath, there was no sound. They were able to escape. Walking on tiptoes—shoes in the other hand, a band on their shoulder— they hurried out the door.

It broke their heart to leave. There were too many good memories held in their heart. The endless kisses, the long talks in the shadows of day, laying beneath the leaves in silence. But there was always that dark shadow hanging over them; the thing that he could become. And after all the nightmares, the terror, the scratches on the wall, they knew they had to get away from him.

Hurrying down the hall, they looked back once more. Hoping there was a chance they could try again. Someday, maybe someday.

Rounding the corner, they almost released a scream.

There he was: at the end of the hall. A long, broken smile on their lips. Eyes pooled with onyx. Blood dripping down from his fangs.

His voice was deeper, gravelly, during this time, as he said, “Where do you think you’re going?”