Mircalla stumbled through the woods, grumbling under her breath about that boy, Nicolaus. She'd spent the night waltzing with him and he had seemed like a gentleman. He even offered to walk her home, which was more than she could say about her date from last week. But she had to decline his offer, as she'd snuck out of her house just to go to the dance and she'd lose all secrecy if she returned home with a boy on her arm. She wouldn't have had to sneak out if her parents had granted her the freedom everyone else's parents seemed to. But as a countess, she was expected to stay inside so she would be, as her parents put, "safe."

She didn't exactly know what they were trying to protect her from—perhaps the contagious lower-class grunge that seemed to be spreading amongst the townspeople like an epidemic. Or maybe it had something to do with her father and all their land. To be frank, she didn't really care. She tended to separate herself from the feudal system whenever she could as it seemed extremely oppressive from her experience as an involuntary countess.

Anyway, she'd declined Nicolaus' offer and he took it remarkably well for a boy. He'd simply vocalized his respect for her choice before politely asking for a mere parting kiss. And with him being relatively handsome, Mircalla had no qualms about giving him a quick peck on the cheek, or even the lips if he wanted. So she'd stepped back toward him and leaned in for a kiss. It was as simple as that. Or at least, it should have been.

His lips were soft and Mircalla was delighted, though she knew it wouldn't go anywhere as she had no intent of ever seeing him again. The kiss lasted longer than she'd expected—it shifted more into a passionate make out session, and Mircalla still had no problem with that. It was when, without warning, he'd moved from her lips to her jaw, and then straight to her neck where he began to bite her.

And he wasn't sensually nipping at her neck either. He was legitimately biting her, breaking her skin and drawing blood. This all happened within a few minutes and she immediately pushing him away, swore like a true townsperson, and fled from him down the street and into the safety of the woods.

So here she was, trudging through the woods on her way home. She rubbed at her neck where his sharp teeth had been only minutes ago. She felt ever so strange; fatigued, yet strong. And the color of the trees' leaves were more vibrant than she'd ever remembered seeing at that time of night. And she felt like she could hear everything—even something as minute as a chipmunk than ran along the path completely obscured from her view. And the scents—she could smell the pine trees off to the east and the moss to the north. Everything seemed to be magnified in the most beautiful way, despite the night she was having.

She took a deep breath and it seemed to calm her down as she approached the familiar path that ultimately led to her home.

Oh how comforting it would feel to get inside. She'd lived there for her entire life; it was with her every step of the way. Her first dog. Her first lost tooth. Her dog's death. Her menarche. Everything. She couldn't wait to get back inside that refuge and feel that sense of security...

She stopped dead in her tracks as she noticed a light in the kitchen on. She cursed under her breath, knowing she'd been caught. Her parents were probably waiting to scold her the moment she walked through that door. It was fine, though, she'd learned her lesson. Townspeople, despite saying they won't bite upon a first encounter, will indeed bite. And she planned on notifying them of her new discovery just to prove that she had really learned and was truly sorry for her deception. Mircalla took a deep breath as she walked up to the door and opened it.

"I know what you're going to say," she informed her parents, who sat at the table silently watching her. She cast her eyes to the floor and continued, "I know I shouldn't have snuck out. It was the first time I did it. Honest. And I can promise you that I've learned my lesson. I met some boy name Nicolaus and he ended up being some kind of pervert. I am sorry for making you both worry and for disobeying your orders. I am willing to accept any form of punishment either of you deem necessary."

She looked up to see both of her parents' eyes staring back at her, their expressions unreadable. Their silence hurt her like a knife and she hung her head.

"Please say something," she softly begged as she shifted her gaze upon her mother. Her mother's usually lively eyes now seemed dead as they continued their strange stare. It felt as if it'd become a competition and after about a minute more of wordless eye contact, Mircalla noticed that her mother hadn't taken a breath since she'd walked in. "Mother?"

Her eyes darted over to her father, who seemed to match her mother's stiffness upon closer inspection. She felt a sharp pain in her chest as she took a cautious step closer to them.

"Father?"

She went behind him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. Upon contact, his body slumped over and fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Mircalla suddenly couldn't breathe as she rushed over to her mother's side.

"Mother—please..." she hoarsely begged as she took her mother's hand. Her fingers were cold and they caught Mircalla off-guard as she dropped them immediately and screamed in horror. She collapsed to her knees, sobbing by her mother's corpse.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it couldn't have been too long as her wailing was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. She quieted herself and slipped into a trance of some sort, too numb to even think about what she was doing.

The footsteps were strange; they sounded soft as if they were walking on something squishy like grass. Mircalla walked over to the open door and peered outside, drying her tears to get a clearer view. She didn't see anything, so she turned to go back inside.

Then suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and turned sharply to witness a girl about her height sprinting into the woods, her long hair streaming behind her with every stride. As her hair moved from side to side, Mircalla noticed a strange birthmark on the back of her neck that seemed to resemble a crescent moon. Mircalla even thought about running after her, but decided against it as she was clearly the culprit and could then be considered dangerous.

She closed the door behind herself and collapsed again onto the floor and stared at the opposite wall, wondering what to do. She supposed she could try to get help, but she'd be the first under investigation for the murder of her parents and without there proof of someone else being there—and she could see there really was none—she'd surely be hanged.

She decided that she would have to run away. That way, her parents' bodies would surely be found and she would not be under mass scrutiny and soil the Karnstein family name. Another benefit would be that she would not inherit her father's responsibilities as he held the noble title of Count. She would no longer have the identity as Countess Mircalla Karnstein, daughter of the Count Karnstein of Styria. She would be free to come and go as she pleased, never having to live up to such high expectations. She grew fond of the idea of this new freedom and the more she thought about it, the more running away seemed to be the logical thing to do. Hell, without a name, she could even try to track down her family's murderer and avenge their deaths. She really liked that idea.

Mircalla rose to her feet and picked her father's limp body up and it proved to be a much easier feat than she'd expected it to be. Her newfound strength completely astounded her, but she dragged him up the stairs to his bed nevertheless. She covered him and propped him up against his pillow before grabbing a book off his nightstand and flipping to a random page. She set it between his limp hands and glanced down at the page:

No cord or cable can draw so forcibly, or bind so fast, as love can do with a single thread.

Tears pickled behind her eyes, but she blinked them away and took a deep breath as she turned away to go back for her mother. She trudged back downstairs and lifted her mother ever so gently from her chair at the table and carried her upstairs. She placed the woman in bed beside her father and covered her as well. They both looked remarkably peaceful for a dead couple.

She sighed and closed her mother's eyes before tilting her mother's head so it looked as if she'd been sleep when she died. Mircalla then went over to her father's side and studied his emotionless face before slipping his pair of glasses on his face and adjusting his head so it was angled downward as if he'd fallen asleep reading (and then died, of course). They looked like they had any other normal night of Mircalla's life.

"I love you..." she whispered to them as she blew them a kiss.

Silence.

"I know I wasn't the best daughter... and an even worse Countess," she sniffled. "But I will make this right. For both of you. I promise."

She took a few steps toward the bedroom door and cast one more longing glance over her shoulder.

"Goodbye," she whispered before disappearing down the stairs and out of her now haunted home.