The next day dawned beneath a leaden sky, heavy and oppressive, as if the very atmosphere had absorbed the tension of the day before. For Kara, the world seemed to have lost its color, reduced to shades of gray— except for the vivid memory of the red that had flooded Alice's eyes.
She drifted through the morning like a ghost, dragging herself from class to class. The professors' voices sounded distant, a muffled hum. Her attention was fixed entirely on the palm of her right hand, hidden beneath a discreet bandage, where the skin still throbbed, a physical reminder of the madness she had committed.
The image of Alice frozen on the stairs, fighting her own nature not to attack her, played on a loop in Kara's mind. There was no longer room for skepticism. The supernatural was not a theory; it was the girl she was falling in love with.
When afternoon fell, bringing with it cutting winds that announced winter, Kara knew where to go. There was no need to arrange anything. There was a gravity between them now, an inevitable orbit.
She went to the inner garden, the sanctuary of silence in the middle of the noisy campus.
And there she was.
Alice sat on her usual bench, posture rigid, the red coat clashing with the garden's melancholy. She wasn't reading. She wasn't observing. She was simply existing — static, as if awaiting a verdict.
Kara stopped at the garden entrance. Her heart raced, pounding against her ribs hard enough to hurt. Fear was there, yes — a primitive instinct for self-preservation — but it was quickly smothered by a desperate need for connection.
She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with cold air, and walked forward. The crunch of gravel beneath her boots seemed to alert Alice, but the vampire didn't move.
"We need to talk," Kara said. Her voice didn't tremble, to her own surprise.
Alice lifted her eyes slowly. There was no usual mask of indifference. There was weariness. An ancient weariness, of someone who carried the weight of centuries on her shoulders.
"I have nothing to say," Alice replied, her voice hoarse.
"But I do," Kara said, walking around the bench and sitting beside her. Not pressed against her, but close enough to feel the cold radiating from her. "That day on the stairs… the speed when I fell… the strength in the alley… and yesterday. The way you looked at my blood."
Alice looked away, fixing her gaze on a stone gargoyle on the library roof. Her jaw was clenched tight.
"You should forget that," she said. "It was a mistake. I am a mistake."
Kara leaned forward, forcing Alice to face her from the corner of her vision.
"I can't forget. And I don't want to." Kara hesitated, feeling the weight of the word on her tongue, the taboo breaking. "Alice… you're a vampire, aren't you?"
The world stopped.
The wind ceased. Not even the birds sang.
Alice went still.
Completely still. There was no breath, no blink. The word hung between them, dangerous and real.
The silence stretched on, seconds that felt like hours — torturous and heavy.
Finally, Alice turned her face. A sad smile, laden with self-irony and bitterness, curved her pale lips.
"Did you read that on some website? In some cheap gothic novel?"
"I know more than you think," Kara said, holding her gaze, challenging Alice's attempt to deflect. "I researched. And everything fits. The strength, the aversion to food, the isolation… the coldness of your hands. Even the way your pupils swallowed your eyes when you saw blood. You wanted to bite me, Alice. I saw it."
Alice squeezed her eyes shut, as if the accusation hurt physically. When she spoke, her voice was low and dangerous, vibrating with restrained menace.
"If that were really true… if you truly believed you were sitting beside a monster that drinks lives… you would be afraid. You would run."
"Maybe I am afraid," Kara admitted, her honesty disarming Alice's defenses. "My mind tells me to run. But my heart… it tells me to stay. That doesn't mean I'll leave you alone."
Alice turned abruptly, the intensity in her eyes nearly burning Kara.
"Kara… you're a child playing with fire. You don't understand. The closer you get, the more danger you're in. It's not just about me. It's about my world."
"Then explain it to me," Kara asked softly, extending her hand without touching her. "Let me in. Or I'll keep coming closer, stumbling in the dark, until I understand why you keep pushing me away."
Alice stared at Kara's hand. The desire to take it was written clearly on her face — a war between desire and duty.
"It's better if you don't look for me anymore."
Alice stood abruptly, as if the gravity of the moment were suffocating her. The movement was a blur.
"Alice!" Kara called.
But she was already gone, moving quickly toward the shadows, fleeing not from Kara, but from what Kara made her feel.
Kara remained on the bench, heart racing, a hollow ache in her chest.
The confirmation had brought no relief — only a terrifying certainty: Alice was dangerous, yes. But her loneliness was even greater than the danger.
Later, in the crowded hallway of the academic building, mundane reality collided with Kara's secret. Natalie found her near the lockers, her eyes immediately drawn to Kara's expression.
"What happened? Are you okay?" Natalie asked, genuine concern creasing her brow.
Kara instinctively hid her hand in her coat pocket.
"I'm just kind of tired. It's nothing, relax." The lie tasted bitter now.
"You've been really distracted lately, girl. Take care of yourself."
Before Kara could respond, laughing voices drew their attention. A group of students stood near the window, talking loudly. Kara recognized Jude and a few guys from the soccer team.
"…I'm serious, man," one of the boys was saying, laughing. "I really tried to be nice. Went up to her on the first day, gave my best smile, and she looked at me like I was her dinner. Or like I was trash. That girl is a complete freak."
"Maybe you're not her type, Mark," a girl nearby mocked.
"Her type must be corpses," the boy shot back, earning cruel laughter. "She looks like she sleeps in a coffin."
Kara's blood boiled. She recognized the name immediately.
"Are you talking about Alice?" Kara stepped closer, her voice hard, cutting into the group.
They stopped, surprised by the interruption.
"Yeah," Jude said, adjusting his glasses. "You've talked to her, right? I once saw you together near the library. You're the only person she seems to tolerate human contact with."
"Yes, we've met a few times," Kara said, lifting her chin defiantly.
"Oh, how nice," Jude said with mild sarcasm. "So you're friends? My condolences."
"You could say that," Kara replied, feeling a fierce need to defend Alice's honor. "Though we're kind of fighting right now."
"What a shame," Mark said, not sounding sorry at all. "But then why does she isolate herself so much? Does she think she's better than everyone else?"
Kara looked at them. She saw ordinary faces, ordinary lives, small concerns. They had no idea of the weight Alice carried. Of the hunger she controlled every second not to hurt them. Of the loneliness of living centuries watching people like them be born and die.
"Well… she kind of likes being alone," Kara said, her voice lowering as sadness invaded her anger. "I think it's better to respect that. Not everyone needs your approval to exist."
The group fell silent, uncomfortable with her blunt answer.
"I see… well… to each their own, right?" Jude muttered, eager to end the conversation. "I'm heading out. Bye, Kara."
"Bye, Jude."
Kara walked away, feeling the weight of the secret. They saw arrogance where there was sacrifice. They saw strangeness where there was protection.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Kara sat through classes, took notes she wouldn't remember, and with every passing hour, her mind drifted to where Alice might be.
Was she somewhere dark, hiding from the sun? Was she feeding? Was she thinking about her?
The revelation hadn't pushed her away. On the contrary, knowing what Alice was only made the humanity she still possessed more precious. Kara touched the bandage on her hand, feeling the pulse beneath the skin.
She knew Alice would try to run again. But Kara also knew that now that she had seen the truth, there was no turning back.
She would not let Alice face that eternity alone.