It started with an itch. Something that scratched away inside him, something that wouldn't leave him alone. Danny lay in bed, awake, eyes piercing the ceiling. Deep down, his breath felt different. Deep down, he felt like he wasn't the same.
He remembered the night. He remembered the whooping, the calling. He remembered the wild energy, the destruction. But he couldn't remember anything else.
Time never moved. The air was viscous, but too thin, and nothing he did helped him relax. Tossing and turning, Danny worried. Something wasn't right. He had to go.
Frustrated, sweating, and in a frenzy, Danny suddenly got out of bed. Laying around was a waste of time. He had to leave, he had to get… somewhere. It felt like he'd been lying in bed all night, but it was barely 10:30 PM. As if in a trance, he opened his window and climbed out.
His phone buzzed, but he didn't care. He walked down the street, down the street. Step, step, step. He didn't know where he was going, but his legs were taking him there.
He remembered the red eyes. The loud music. He remembered yelling, yelling 'stop.' He remembered that they hadn't stopped.
But he'd just stopped walking. He stood at the entrance to the Amity Park graveyard.
Of course, Danny thought. Death. Suddenly, death seemed like such a beautiful thing. Death and sorrow, the most perfect things in the world. He knew he was delirious. And yet it echoed so deep inside him.
He wandered inside the gates. He was so hungry, but he couldn't leave. It was almost as if his hunger pulled him here, to the place of death. Of course, that didn't make sense. He kept walking.
Danny felt a chill. He knew it was harmless, just the effects of being in a place so close to the edge of life. Normal…
He stopped at a gravestone beneath a tree. He remembered the tree.
As Danny rested underneath, he realized he heard footsteps. He knew whose feet they were. And suddenly he grew even hungrier.
"There you are!" called the voice of his friend Sam. Goth and strong, she had brought them here the other night. It was just a party, just a party. Nothing else. But that was wrong. Something else had happened afterwards.
Following behind was his other friend, Tucker. They were both out of breath, looking worried. Their skin shone bright in the moonlight.
"You had us worried!" shouted Tucker. "Your parents said you slept all day, skipped school."
Danny didn't remember that. "I did?" he said quietly, carefully, thoughtfully. Less carefully he said, "I don't remember…" He felt his body growing more tense as he held back. The sweat, the furrowed brow. He tried to stay sitting at the base of the tree. He knew his voice sounded strained, and regretted speaking at all.
"Danny," stressed Sam, voice urgent. "Your eyes." Her own were wide, wide like a full moon, though purple like velvet. She wore lenses, Danny thought. He had never asked. Somehow, he could see his face reflected in them. He could see his own red eyes.
"Don't worry about it," he said, turning away. "You should leave, I think. Right now." The itch had become a burning. An intense need, something he feared. He knew what it was now. And he hated that it was so hard to ignore.
It wasn't safe. Not for them. Not with him.
"Danny, what exactly is going on?" asked Tucker. He stepped forward.
"DON'T," urged Danny, turning back to face them. Suddenly he was standing once again. "Don't come closer. I can't stop it. Not if you do."
"Stop what?" asked Tucker. He stepped back as he was asked. Danny grimaced, showing his teeth. What could he say?
"Fangs," said Sam, simply. Quietly, to Tucker. "Those are fangs…" Danny, swooning with guilt, collapsed to sit back on the ground, facing away from them once again. He couldn't ignore them. He wanted to try anyway.
Sam's heart beat faster in Danny's ears as she came to the realization. "Danny," she said, "You're a vampire."