Living Hunger

Frederique sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the shattered window.

Cold air seeped in, chilling her skin. The broken glass glittered on the floor like frost, catching the dim moonlight.

Her heart still hadn't slowed. Neither had the hunger.

It was louder now.

Sharper.

Even with the creature dead.

Even with Arno still standing in the corner, watching her in silence.

She should've been terrified of him.

Of that... thing he'd done with his tongue.

But she wasn't.

She was terrified of herself.

Her arm throbbed where the creature had struck her. Blood welled along the torn skin, slow but steady. She could smell it—sharp, metallic. Too strong.

And worse...

She wanted to taste it.

"Stop staring at it."

Frederique flinched.

Arno's voice was quiet but tense. He hadn't moved from the shadows, still half-hidden as if giving her space. Or keeping himself away.

She clenched her hand tighter, pressing the wound against her jeans to hide it.

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding."

"I said I'm fine."

Arno's gaze narrowed.

"No. You're not."

Frederique looked away, jaw tight.

It wasn't the wound. That wasn't what scared her.

It was the ache. The pressure. The voice that whispered with every heartbeat:

' Feed. '

"Why didn't it stop?" she whispered, more to herself than him. "I killed it. Why is it still there?"

Arno didn't answer immediately.

The wind stirred through the broken window.

Finally, he spoke.

"Because you didn't kill it for the right reason."

Frederique blinked, frowning.

"What the hell does that mean?"

Arno crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

"You think the hunger's just... food? It's not. It's about emotion. The thing inside you..."

"Don't call it a thing."

His expression didn't change.

"Fine. Her."

Frederique's stomach knotted.

He was right.

It wasn't just something in her.

It was... someone.

A presence. A whisper she couldn't ignore.

Arno continued, voice low.

"Whatever she is... she doesn't just want food. She wants fear. Pain. The stronger the emotion, the stronger the hunger."

Frederique swallowed hard.

"You're saying I... I enjoyed that?"

"No. I'm saying she did. And when you fed her by fighting back, it only made her stronger."

The words stung.

She clenched her fists tighter.

"So what do I do, then? Just let her starve? Let her keep... scratching at me until I lose my mind?!"

Arno shook his head.

"No. But you need to control it. Or she'll control you."

Frederique's pulse spiked.

"You say that like you've got it all figured out."

Arno's expression darkened, and for a moment, he looked... tired.

"I don't. But I learned enough to stay alive."

Frederique blinked.

"...Stay alive? From what? What the hell are these things?"

Arno hesitated.

Then he turned, staring out the shattered window into the night.

"You felt it tonight, didn't you? That thing? It wasn't just hunting. It knew what you were. And it wasn't alone. More will come."

Frederique felt the blood drain from her face.

"Why?"

Arno's jaw tightened.

"Because we're broken. And broken things attract worse monsters."

* Silence.*

Frederique sat there, heartbeat hammering in her ears.

The shadows under her skin felt heavier now.

' Broken. '

Maybe he was right.

Maybe she had been broken long before the hunger started.

"...I didn't ask for this," she whispered, voice shaking.

Arno didn't reply immediately.

When he finally did, his voice was softer.

"Neither did I."

They both sat there for a long moment. The tension still thick. The only sound was the wind.

Finally, Arno shifted.

"You need to clean that cut. It'll heal faster than you think, but... it's better if you don't smell like blood."

Frederique nodded stiffly, standing.

She moved to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

The mirror caught her reflection.

And for the first time, she really looked at herself.

The pallor of her skin. The dark shadows beneath her eyes.

But worse...

The faint red glimmer deep in her pupils.

Not human.

Her hair became redder. Her teeth were more sharp, like every one of them turn into a canine.

She turned on the tap, scrubbing the wound under scalding water.

The bite stung...then stopped.

When she pulled her hand back, the skin was already knitting together.

No scar.

No pain.

Just... hunger.

Always hunger.

She closed her eyes, gripping the sink tightly.

' I'm still me. I'm still me. '

But deep down...

She wasn't sure anymore.

When Frederique returned, the thing's corpse and Arno were gone too.

The window was still shattered, the glass still littering the floor...

But they had vanished.

A part of her wanted to feel relieved.

But instead, the room felt... emptier.

Colder.

' You're not alone. '

That's what he'd said.

But now, standing there in the dark, surrounded by the broken pieces of her old life...

Frederique had never felt more alone.