A ripple of unease swept through the classroom, as the girl next to Sonetto had seemed to collapse
"Carol? Are you alright?!" Mr. Galloway called out, his voice edged with concern as he stepped forward.
Conner turned fully in his seat. Beside the unconscious girl, Sonetto sat frozen, her wide, panic-stricken eyes locked on the teacher.
"I—I didn't see anything," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "She just… dropped." Her hand trembled slightly, a subtle quiver she didn't seem to notice.
Mr. Galloway hurried to Carol's side, crouching down and gently shaking her shoulder. "Someone call the nurse. Now!"
Conner stood, instinct overriding hesitation. Something about the way Carol had collapsed—the slackness of her limbs, the eerie stillness—felt wrong. Too wrong.
He'd seen people faint before. This wasn't that, Conner knew what was about to happen.
"Sir!" he shouted suddenly, his voice sharp with urgency. A chill surged through him, realization dawning like ice in his veins. "Get back—now!"
Mr. Galloway, and the rest of the class turned to him, startled, and very confused. "Conner, either sit down or go get the bloody nurse! 'cause if I–"
"Sir…?" Carol said with faded breath.
She seemed completely out of breath, as though she'd been running for hours. Each inhale was a strained, rasping pull of air; each exhale, a shudder. Her voice, when it came, was barely audible—no more than a whisper carried on trembling lips.
Her once neatly braided orange hair now clung to her face in loose, frizzy strands scattered as if she'd been blasted by the heat of a blow dryer on full power.
Slowly, Carol lifted her head, her movements twitchy and unnatural, like a puppet tugged by invisible strings. Her mouth fell open slightly, as if forming a question she couldn't find the strength to ask. But then her eyes met Mr. Galloway's—and he froze.
They weren't her eyes.
The familiar hazel was gone, replaced by a deep, pulsing crimson that shimmered like embers under her lashes. And just beneath her parted lips, nestled among her teeth, two sharp, gleaming fangs pressed into view. Not costume props. Not a trick of the light. Real. Primal. Predatory.
For a moment, the room was silent—then the tension cracked like ice beneath thin boots.
Mr. Galloway took an involuntary step back.
"Carol…?" he said, his voice suddenly unsure, almost afraid.
Carol slowly rose to her feet, her movements still, and calculated. She slid her left foot back, bracing it against the base of her chair like a coiled spring ready to snap. For a split second, she was completely still—eyes locked on Mr. Galloway, lips parted just enough to reveal those unnatural, glinting fangs.
Then she lunged.
Using the chair as leverage, she pushed off with explosive force, the metal legs screeching across the tile floor as it was kicked back. Her body arced through the air, a blur of motion and tension, closing the gap between her and Mr. Galloway in an instant.
She didn't hesitate, and Mr. Galloway barely had time to react, but Sonetto did.
But just as Carol launched forward, a blur of movement erupted from the side.
Sonetto had sprung from her seat, instincts overtaking fear. In a split-second decision, she lunged toward Carol, her hand shooting out and seizing hold of her leg mid-air.
There was a sudden jolt—Sonetto yanked her backward with all the strength she could muster.
Carol's momentum faltered.
Her arms were stretched out to close the gap between him, and her fangs were mere millimetres from Mr. Galloway's throat. A strangled, animalistic screech tore from her lips as she was yanked back, crashing to the floor with a thud that echoed through the room.
Mr. Galloway stumbled back, eyes wide, chest heaving.
Sonetto stood frozen for a moment, her hand still clamped around Carol's ankle, shock and adrenaline battling in her expression. Her breathing was ragged, and her wide eyes never left Carol's face.
"What the absolute fuck?!" Sonetto screamed, still clutching Carol's ankle. She had never spoken a word to Carol before—never even looked at her longer than necessary—and now she was grappling with a girl who had just tried to bite their teacher.
Across the classroom, panic erupted.
Desks screeched, chairs toppled, and students bolted for the door in a frantic wave of motion, some shouting, others too stunned to make a sound. Books hit the floor. A backpack was kicked aside. The only thing louder than the chaos was the pounding of feet against the tile.
Conner barely had time to brace himself.
As the flood of panicked students surged toward the door, one student slammed into Conner in their desperate scramble to escape. The impact knocked him off balance, and he hit the floor hard, the breath rushing out of his lungs.
"Move! MOVE!" someone shouted.
Even Mr. Galloway, pale and wide-eyed, had abandoned the scene, stumbling out into the hallway without a second glance. His voice had gone silent. Whatever authority he once carried had vanished, consumed by fear.
Back in the classroom, Sonetto still held on.
Her grip on Carol's leg was slipping—fingers aching, muscles burning—but she refused to let go. The creature that had once been Carol snarled and writhed, jerking violently, her body moving with unnatural force and precision.
Vampires are typically calculated and nimble. But when someone succumbs to vampirism, the first stage is always the same: uncontrollable hunger. A primal, burning need to feed. Instinct took over, and their first reaction was to attack the nearest living thing—usually other people.
But if no prey was available—if they were restrained, or alone—the hunger could turn inward. In rare cases, they'd resort to drinking their own blood just to survive the transition. It didn't satisfy the craving, but it kept them from completely unravelling… at least for a little while.
"Damn it! Somebody—!" Sonetto shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of panic.
Her grip was failing. Every muscle in her arms burned as Carol thrashed beneath her hands, relentless and wild. It was like trying to hold down a wild animal.
Carol let out a guttural snarl and twisted violently.
Sonetto's fingers slipped. Then her hand.
In one brutal motion, Carol's leg snapped upward—her foot connecting hard with Sonetto's jaw. The force knocked her back, sending her sprawling onto the cold floor with a sharp grunt.
Carol was free.
For a split second, she hovered—shoulders hunched, breath heaving, crimson eyes wide with hunger. Then her gaze locked on Sonetto, now stunned and defenceless on the ground.
She lunged once more.
Fangs bared, and Carol dropped down onto Sonetto. Her fingers clawed at Sonetto's arms to pin her down, and her mouth opened, wide and trembling—ready to sink those gleaming fangs into warm, living flesh.
Sonetto could feel her life flash before her eyes—brief, flickering images like scenes from a dream. Her mother's warm smile as she helped her with homework. Late nights laughing with friends over nothing. The gentle hum of music playing as she watched the rain roll down her bedroom window. All the little moments that made her feel safe. Loved. Alive.
It was strange—how, even with death staring her in the face, she didn't feel panic anymore. Instead, a strange calm settled over her, wrapping her like a blanket. The chaos around her—the shrieking students, the sound of desks scraping, Carol's snarls—faded into the background as if the world had hit mute.
"Hang on!" Conner shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip.
Without hesitation, he sprinted toward Sonetto and the creature pinning her down. His heart pounded in his chest, every step fueled by instinct and desperation. As he closed the distance, he twisted his body and put everything he had—speed, weight, fury—into a brutal kick aimed at Carol's head.
His foot connected with a sickening crack.
Carol's head snapped to the side, her body flung back from the force. Blood splattered across the floor and the nearby desks, dark and fast. The side of her skull was visibly damaged, possibly fractured. As the skin split and slick with red. She collapsed backward, clutching her head and letting out a shrill, broken cry—not a scream of rage, but of pain. Real pain.
Conner stumbled slightly on landing but didn't stop. He knew that wouldn't be enough. Vampires were resilient, far beyond what was human. But he had bought them seconds—and sometimes, seconds were everything.
Carol's body swayed as she tried to rise, one trembling hand grabbing the edge of an overturned desk for support. Blood streaked down the side of her face, mixing with strands of her once-neat orange hair. She wobbled, clearly dazed, but not defeated.
Conner, chest heaving, turned toward Sonetto. She sat against the floor, clutching her shoulder, her breathing ragged but steady. Relief washed over him for just a moment—she was alive. Shaken, but alive.
Then his eyes snapped back to Carol.
She was standing now, hunched and unsteady, but upright. Their eyes met across the chaos-strewn classroom. Her crimson gaze—so feral moments ago—seemed softer now. Conflicted. Human.
Did I knock some sense into her?
Conner naively thought.
Her fangs protruded once more, glistening with saliva, and her lips peeled back in a twisted snarl. The hunger in her eyes was feral, raw—focused solely on Conner.
She curved her back slightly, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. Then she launched forward, feet pounding the ground, hair whipping behind her like a streak of shadow.
Conner didn't move. Not yet.
He stood his ground, every muscle locked in place. His eyes didn't waver—not from fear.
She closed the distance in seconds.
He waited until the last possible moment.
Then—he struck.
Conner's fist shot forward with brutal precision, cutting through the air and slamming square into her face. The sound was sickening—flesh meeting bone, the crunch of cartilage. Her nose gave first, caving under the impact. Then her jaw, dislocated instantly from the force of the blow, snapped to the side with a crack that echoed.
The momentum stopped. Her body twisted mid-lunge, and she crashed to the ground in a heap of limbs and tangled hair, groaning through bloodied teeth.
He stood over her, fist still clenched, shaking slightly. She was either downed or dead. At this point Conner didn't care, just that her friend was safe now.
It was the final punch.
And Conner thought it was enough.