It was a dark night out in town, not raining, nor cold, but there was... something in the air. All was silent save for the low buzzing of the streetlamps, which were bathing the sidewalk in patches of glowing orange light.
It was through this light that a young girl of about fifteen was tearing her way, seemingly running away from someone or something. She was dressed in naught but a slim fitting vest-top and a pair of shorts, and her messy; spiking-out hair was slicked back with sweat. She was panting heavily, clearly having run out from the safety of her bed to get away from her invisible captor.

She ran down a side-street, instantly cursing herself. She knew from the many movies that she had watched, whether with her boyfriend or her family, that running down a side-street always meant death or capture for that person. She turned around, taking in a deep breath, and was instantly faced by a medium-height guy in jeans and a vest that was covered in blood. He looked about seventeen, maybe eighteen. There was a look of defiance, mixed with sadness, on his face; a look of terrified acceptance on hers.

He squatted down to her, putting two hands on her shoulders and looking her square in the face. He had an odd pattern under his left eye; a mix of green, black and orange markings. His eyes were a toxic green, and they appeared to be glowing. He whispered something to her – his mouth forming some sort of apology – and a single tear escaped her eye.

He leaned forward, somewhat slowly, and she squeezed her eyes shut as he touched her neck with his teeth.

Three days later, the story was all across the news – about how a family's house had exploded due to a boiler fault, killing the parents and sister, and how the other sister was missing.

At the exact same time, a girl was waking up, cold, wet and alone in the corner of a side-street. She groaned from a splitting headache and pounding toothache, rubbing both while cursing. Her clothes and hair were covered in blood, and everything seemed scarily brighter, more... there>.
She fumbled around in her pocket weakly, only to discover the smashed remains of her phone. She groaned and got up, desperately needing to find a way to her destination without people seeing. She tried the wall and, despite the fact she was aching all over and caked in blood, she found it extremely easy to scale the wall at the corner, using the right-angled walls as footholds. Once on the roof, looking around, she saw her destination and vaulted herself off the roof without thought – and somehow managed to land softly on her feet outside the gate of the house she wished to enter.

She jumped over the wall the way she always did - the person living in this house was banned from her company by his parents because she was too 'out there' - and walked up the pathway. She rapped on the door, paused, and rapped once more, and all of a sudden someone was tearing down the stairs. Clearly he believed something was wrong with her.
All of a sudden, a tall guy in his late teens ripped open the door, looking at her with a sense of disbelief with red-rimmed blue eyes.

"...Leka?!" he breathed "You're... You're supposed to be dead..."

"The thing is, James," Leka smiled sadly. "I think I am."