The night settled over the house like a heavy blanket—quiet, still… deceptive.
Downstairs, Jake sat alone on the couch, a half-finished plate of food beside him. The tension in the air hadn't faded—it just shifted, like static before a storm.
He stared at the TV, but wasn't watching.
His mind was still upstairs. With her.
Upstairs —
Sarah hadn't moved. She lay on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, her mind circling the same thoughts over and over.
He didn't stop Jimmy. He didn't defend me.
What if I'd actually gotten hurt?
What was all that talk yesterday—about having my back?
Does that only count when I'm "human" enough?
The kiss felt like a lifetime ago.
A softer version of her had reached for him then. Trusted him.
That version?
She wasn't here tonight.
Then—a knock at the door.
She didn't move.
"Jake?" she called out, voice low.
"…Yeah. Can I come in?"
She hesitated.
"…Fine."
The door creaked open. Jake stepped in, hands shoved into his pockets.
"I… wanted to check on you," he said.
She looked up, blank and tired.
"Why?" she asked. Not cold—just empty.
Jake swallowed. "Because I care."
Sarah sat up slowly.
"Then maybe act like it."
"What do you mean?" he asked, brow creasing.
She exhaled and turned away, lying back down.
"Never mind. You can leave now."
Jake stood there for a moment, caught off guard.
"Wait—Sarah… is this about the kiss?"
She didn't respond. Just lay there, her back to him, breathing steady—but sharp.
He stepped forward cautiously.
"Talk to me. I—"
"It didn't happen," she cut in, her voice low and cracked. "Now stop being a bother and leave."
Silence.
Jake exhaled, tension rising in his chest.
"Are you… crying?"
Sarah turned her head just enough to glance at him over her shoulder.
"Get away from me, you liar."
She grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him.
Jake didn't flinch. Didn't say a word.
She looked away again, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand.
"You can go now, Jake."
He hesitated—then turned and quietly left. The door clicked shut behind him.
As the hallway dimmed and his footsteps faded, Sarah stared into the dark, blinking hard.
She wasn't angry.
She was done.
Done hoping people would accept her for what she really was.
Done trusting.
She remained curled up on the bed, the echo of the door click lingering in her ears.
Get away from me, you liar.
She hated saying it. Hated how true it felt.
Down the hall, Jake stood just outside his door, hands clenched into fists at his sides.
He wanted to go back. Wanted to say something—anything.
But instead, he turned away slowly.
"Maybe I should've said more. Maybe I should've said less."
Either way… it was too late now.
Back in Sarah's room.
The wolf in her stirred again. Angry. Tired of playing human.
The air felt thicker somehow. Like her skin didn't quite fit.
She stood, pacing, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
"Why am I still here?" she whispered.
Meanwhile, in Jake's room…
Jimmy cracked open the window, letting the cool night air spill in.
He lit a small match, letting it burn down to his fingers before dropping it into a metal bowl filled with herbs.
Smoke curled upward—sharp, acrid, laced with intention.
He pulled out a worn notebook, flipping to a page marked "Demonic Traces – Identification Ritual".
His lips moved silently, murmuring the words.
In her room...
Sarah froze mid-pace.
The air shifted. Her senses buzzed.
Something's wrong.
She crept toward her door, cracked it open just enough.
A strangely familiar scent floated down the hallway.
Her eyes narrowed.
"His he really doing a ritual. Shit, he's messing with my scent." She ran out, heading downstairs.
Back in Jake's room, Jimmy sat crosslegged, eyes locked on the symbols.
"Why's nothing happening?, stupid YouTube ritual."
He coughed, waving the smoke away.
"Plan B it is"
He reached into his bag and pulled out two silver crucifixes.
He smirked.
"Yeah. This'll get something out of her"
Downstairs —
Sarah landed lightly at the bottom step, eyes scanning the room like a predator on edge.
The scent was there—faint, masked. Like someone had scrubbed it with smoke and herbs. But she still caught a trace.
"Someone was here."
She moved swiftly to the front door, every sense stretched razor-tight.
But whoever—or whatever—it was, they were already gone.
Jaw clenched, she turned and stormed back toward the stairs.
"I swear to God, if Jimmy's dumbass ritual helped something slip past me—"
Her eyes glinted, sharp and wild.
She was done holding back.