Living Hunger

Frederique awoke in darkness.

At first, she thought it was a dream...the kind where nothing feels quite real, where the air is too thick, and the shadows press too close. Her body felt strange, heavier than it should. Her limbs tingled, but not like pins and needles. It was a deeper sensation, a dull ache spreading through her muscles, as though she'd been running for hours.

And then she noticed the taste.

Bitter. Metallic.

She wiped her lips instinctively and felt moisture. Sticky. Warm.

Blood.

Panic hit her like a punch to the chest. Frederique bolted upright, the world spinning. Her breath came in short gasps as she scrambled back, her bare feet scraping against rough concrete. She wasn't in her room. This wasn't her bed.

The floor was stone. Cold and cracked. Dim light filtered through what seemed like a narrow, broken window above.

She was outside.

No...not outside.

Underground.

The smell was damp. Earthy. Like soil mixed with something sharper. Mold? Decay?

Heart pounding, she scanned her surroundings. She was in some kind of old basement. Crumbling walls, rusted pipes along the ceiling, and debris scattered across the ground...broken glass, splinters of wood. But what caught her attention most was the damage.

The door. Or what remained of it.

It had been torn open...no, torn through. Splintered wood hung off its frame, huge chunks missing as if something had chewed through it.

And her hands...

Her nails were cracked, dirty. Raw. The skin beneath them caked with more of that dark, rust-brown stain.

Frederique staggered to her feet, legs trembling beneath her.

"What...what happened?"

The last thing she remembered was lying in bed. The hunger had been unbearable, gnawing at her insides like something alive. And then...

Blackness.

No dreams. No memory.

Only hunger.

And now...

Blood.

It was still on her tongue. The bitter tang of it, clinging to her taste buds even as she tried to spit it out.

She backed away from the ruined door, heart hammering in her chest. She had to leave. She had to...

" Stop. "

The voice.

Cold. Clear. Whispering from inside her skull.

It wasn't hers.

" You called me here. "

"No, I didn't..." Her voice cracked, echoing off the damp stone.

" You did. "

The ache flared again, deep inside her chest. But it wasn't hunger this time.

It was... satisfaction.

A memory surfaced.

Flesh yielding beneath her hands. Warm liquid spilling over her lips. The sensation of tearing.

She staggered, pressing both hands against her temples.

"No. No, I didn't...I didn't do this!"

The voice didn't respond.

But the hunger... it pulsed.

A low, constant ache. Less painful. Less desperate.

Because it had already fed.

Frederique stumbled out of the ruined basement, her feet carrying her forward in a daze. The world outside was dark, wet with rain. She was somewhere behind a cluster of old buildings...abandoned, judging by the boarded-up windows. No lights. No sounds except the distant hum of traffic from somewhere far off.

It wasn't home.

It wasn't anywhere she recognized.

Her stomach twisted.

How far had she gone?

She turned a corner, heart still racing. Barefoot, freezing, her skin scraped raw. But the cold barely registered anymore. She felt too... numb.

Or maybe too full.

The hunger remained, but it had dulled to a whisper, like it was... waiting.

Lurking.

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By the time she made it back home, the sun was beginning to rise. Pale streaks of orange bled through the clouds, and the streets were quiet in that eerie, early-morning calm.

Frederique slipped through the door as quietly as possible, heart pounding in her ears. She was soaked to the skin, clothes ruined, streaked with dirt.

She didn't even check if her parents were home. They probably weren't.

She climbed the stairs, avoiding every creaking step out of instinct, and shut the bathroom door behind her with a soft click.

And then she looked at herself in the mirror.

The blood was mostly gone, washed away by the rain. But her skin...pale, gaunt, too tight around her bones...was marked with scratches. Her eyes...

Worse than before.

The pupils weren't round anymore. Thin. Slitted.

Predatory.

She sank to the floor, hands shaking.

The voice inside her head was silent.

But the hunger... it was waiting.

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School was unbearable.

She could feel it...like a weight pressing against her ribs. The hunger wasn't as sharp, but it was present, like a beast curled just beneath her skin, pacing.

Watching.

The other students were louder today. Or maybe she was just more aware of them. The chatter, the whispers...so close, pressing in from all sides.

And their fear.

It was intoxicating.

Even the ones who mocked her. She could feel it now, beneath their insults. A tremor in their voices. A slight shift in their scent.

Frederique sat alone at lunch again, ignoring her food.

It was harder to eat when the hunger didn't want that kind of nourishment.

The memory of the blood returned.

And something deeper.

The satisfaction.

' No. '

She wasn't a monster. She wouldn't become one.

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By the time classes ended, the ache had returned.

Sharper.

Frederique clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms as she walked home. Every sound felt louder. Every heartbeat...hers, theirs...a constant drum.

It would be so easy.

' Stop. '

She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood.

And the hunger eased.

For now.

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That night, she stayed awake as long as she could.

Eyes wide.

Refusing to sleep.

Because if she did...

She wasn't sure if she would wake up.

Or what she'd become when she did.