'Rolland's Cave', the sign read. Seemed fitting.

  Heading to the address given to me by Autumn, the GPS had lead me out into a corner of the city I rarely visited. The whole street of the bar seemed shady. Not that the quality was poor, if anything it all looked rather expensive, but the vibes were totally off.

  Alleyways felt too dark, roads felt too empty, lights felt too dim. Again, all just how I felt about the environment. Nothing was inherently wrong. The bar itself was cramped between two other storefronts – a cafe and a diner. There were no windows out the front, just a wall of black bricks that had been painted many times. The sign above the door was the only indication that any sort of business was run there. Nothing else decorated the front but the old wooden door. There wasn't even a light.

  A bell chimed overhead as I stepped through the door of the building, and the scent of alcohol and cigarettes quickly engulfed my senses. Strange, since I couldn't see any smoke. The interior was bigger than the outside had suggested, but there were still no windows in sight. The light only came from the occasional lamp or candle scattered around the room, keeping the atmosphere warm and dim. Quiet jazz was coming from somewhere I couldn't pinpoint. The bar itself stood at one side, while the other side was designated for a few tables and booths. Crimson leather, oak and timber.

  Only six people were present aside from myself and the bartender. The booth in the very far corner held three of which. Sipping from a glass of red wine was a woman with black hair, piercings, and tattoos. Beside her sat a man a similar age who seemed muscular and athletic, his chestnut hair swept out of his face. He was involved in a quiet conversation with the man opposite him, who looked so similar to the woman that he might be her relative.

  My gaze panned to the bathroom exit, where two women were standing against the wall and scrolling on their phones. The last of the patrons sat at the edge of the bar itself. An older man, staring at the bench lost in thought, his glass empty.

  I wasn't quite sure if this was a bar anymore. It seemed half like a lounge, or a college student's basement. Well taken care of, but just... strange.

  No one was drinking beer at all.

  To be totally fair, I'd only been to one bar my entire life, and that was just to try out a new feeding method which I ended up hating anyway. I didn't exactly have the right to hold up expectations of how a bar should look, but Autumn's words replayed in my mind, so I held my head high and took to investigate.

  "What can I get you?" is what I'd expected the bartender to ask as I sat down at a stool. Instead, all I got was a once-over and a curt nod. So I sat there anxiously for several minutes. He did nothing but clean glasses that were already glistening. The spaced-out man beside me wasn't doing anything either.

  This was weird, right?

  I sat straighter and cleared my throat, adjusting my jacket. The bartender locked eyes with me again, but still didn't say a thing. This was starting to get annoying.

  "Uh, excuse me?" I finally spoke up.

  "Would you like something?" The bartender replied.

  "Just a water for now, thanks." I murmured, brow creasing.

  "Can I see some ID?"

  I paused. Silence returned as my energy went into remembering to blink.

  "For a water?" I narrowed my eyes.

  The man held out his hand expectantly. I scoffed under my breath, but ripped my licence out of my phone case anyway. As he inspected it, he analysed me a few times, going back and forth between the picture and my appearance. I felt like I was shrinking under his gaze.

  "Is there something wrong?" I asked.

  "How long have you had your eyebrow pierced?"

  "Huh?" I cringed. "Few weeks, maybe."

  "How's it been healing?" He continued. "Any infections? Did it hurt much?"

  "No? I don't remember getting it, I was intoxicated." I admitted quietly. "There's been no problems. It healed quickly."

  The bartender hummed to himself as he considered my responses. He looked at the ID again.

  "What?" I sighed, starting to feel self conscious. "Is there a problem?"

  "When were you born?"

  "Um," I blinked slowly, "200–"

  "No, no, in years. How many years ago?"

  This was getting ridiculous.

  "Nineteen years ago!" I huffed, losing patience. "I can be here. Alcohol's +18 in Australia. You know that, right?"

  The bartender chuckled under his breath and nodded.

  "I know that." He passed me the card back. "You could pass for 17, though. Maybe 16 without the eyeliner."

  I deadpanned, watching unblinkingly as the man set off to fetch my drink. Was this guy serious? Was he mocking me? I aged slower now, sure, but surely I didn't look 16.

  Did I?

  I yanked the card back into my phone case and sighed. How was I supposed to get information out of this place if I couldn't even order a water without hassle?

  My thoughts were interrupted by a glass of dark red liquid sliding in front of me. I sat right up, startled.

  "This isn't my order." I told the bartender sheepishly. "I asked for a water?"

  "If you don't want it, I'll drink it." He shrugged. "Just thought you looked like you'd need it."

  I looked back to the drink. My tongue tingled from the scent alone, like when I was a kid and I'd open a packet of sherbet. It seemed like a cocktail maybe? Some sort of mixture of liquids. Maybe it was watermelon flavoured?

  "Are you gonna gawk at it or drink it?"

  "Sorry."

  I pinched the straw between my fingers and took a sip.

  Ever since turning, everything edible had tasted different than when I was human. Understandably, I mean, that's how the brain operates. We usually only like how certain things taste because our brain thinks they benefit us in some way. Growing up, my dog Titan had despised the taste of fruits and vegetables, and I had hated the taste of dog food all the same. Now I found my favourite taste in the world was that of the flesh of a human's shoulders, somewhat specifically. If not that, then arterial blood naturally came second.

  My brain simply changed its mind on what I should or shouldn't be eating when I turned. I feel that's pretty obvious.

  Most human food had no taste to me anymore, and that which still did was putrid or bitter. Marshmallows for some reason were a grey area where I could almost taste the flour. Nonetheless, I'd still vomit them up.

  That's all to say I expected whatever this cocktail drink was to have little to no taste. I planned on a small sip and nothing more, else I'd risk nausea. What I was actually met with was so bizarre that I nearly choked on the liquid.

  Berries and citrus danced on my tongue, the scent of halloween candy filled my lungs, images appeared behind my eyelids of cherry sorbet and cotton candy.

  Taste. Actual sensation.

  The drink held an overwhelmingly thick and detailed taste. I gulped it down and sat still in shock for a long moment. I felt my skin buzzing. My senses were thrown out of whack. I stared up at the bartender, probably looking like I'd been stabbed.

  "First time?" He simply laughed at me. "God, you are young, aren't you?"

  I glanced back to the drink and took another sip. Then another. It was addictive, in a nice way. It felt normal. By some miracle, I could taste normal edible things for the first time in four years.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "Don't chug it." The bartender spoke up, watching me with amusement. "You could still feel sick."

  I wiped my mouth and gaped at the man, lost for words. What was I supposed to say? Thank you?

  "What's in this?" I managed eventually.

  "You tell me." He said simply.

  I thought for a long time. The red of the drink swirled as I fiddled with the straw.

  "Fruit." I shrugged. "Watermelon. Some berries. Things like that?"

  "Good to see you can remember those things." The bartender spoke. "Most people can't begin to name the taste."

  That caught my attention.

  "Why?" I asked hesitantly.

  "The longer you go being like you are, the further the memories drift." He said. "I am surprised you didn't pick up the blood, though. I thought that would be obvious."

  My eyes shot wide. There was blood in the drink. Was that why I could taste everything else? Did it trick my brain?

  "Hang on, what?" My jaw fell. "Are you..?"

  "Me? Nah. My wife is." The bartender smiled. "I probably know more vampires than humans, but. Years of working in a place like this will do that."

  "Oh." I relaxed a little. "Right. So this place really is... some... vampire hangout?"

  "I think of it more like a homeless shelter. Not that I call it that, though." He looked around the room. "People come here from all walks of life, both human and undead. It's one of the only places open around here all night long. Once the sun goes down, most of my visitors don't look so alive. I often catch the strays who've heard of the place and just need shelter from the sun."

  Wow. Autumn was completely right.

  It was nice to hear the man speak so fondly of such a situation. On the other hand, it was weird knowing that there were more than a handful of vampires in the city and I'd only started running into them as of late. I guess I'd just never looked in the right places.

  I took another sip of my strangely flavourful drink and let my eyes dart around the space.

  Looking through a new lens, the trio at the corner booth were definitely vampires. That was a hundred percent not wine in that glass. The women at the bathrooms could be human, though. Nothing overly undead about them. The man beside me, I still had no clue. That was fine. He seemed like he was going through something.

  "Forgive my poking earlier, it's just that you're the youngest I've ever met." The bartender spoke gently. "Most that come here are older than they look, sure, but comparing their appearance to their birth year gives me a decent estimate as to when they turned. Your birth year seemed awfully recent."

  I nodded slowly, trying to wrap my head around the idea of a human identifying vampires like that.

  "You've never met a teenage vampire?"

  "Never met someone who was turned before age 18, no." He replied. "There's certain... I guess you could say rules when it comes to turning someone. Moral obligations. Responsibilities. The main being a strict 'no children' rule. That goes for feeding, as well. It's not right. Turning someone before they've had a chance to exist as an individual in this world is an abuse of power."

  "I see." I mumbled, a little embarrassed. "Yeah, I was fifteen."

  "Wow." The man shook his head, almost mad on my behalf. "That's unheard of. Do you know who did it?"

  "No clue." I sighed. "Don't remember much. I was walking outside one night, next thing I knew I was ripped to pieces and barely breathing."

  "I'm so sorry." The bartender frowned sympathetically. "Whoever did that to you is a monster."

  I held back a reply and chose to sip my drink instead. I wasn't exactly in the mood for trauma-dumping on a stranger tonight.

  But I couldn't help but appreciate that he cared. To have someone I'd never met validate my feelings towards what happened... was bittersweet. I guess it felt different when it had been my friends or my dad getting upset about what happened to me, maybe I assumed they were so affected because they took it personally. But this guy had no idea who I was, where I came from, or much more than my name, and he called it monstrous.

  My chest felt warm. I was safe here.

  Autumn stared numbly at her phone screen for a minute too long.

  The blinding white it cast stabbed the back of her eyes through the harsh darkness her room had been cast in otherwise. Her hair covered half of her vision, gravity punishing her for falling asleep face down. She held her phone on its side with a shaky grip, turning her head properly to check she wasn't imagining it all.

  'Missing you. Please come home safe.' One message read. She couldn't remember the person who'd sent it.

  'They talked about you at school today. I hope you're okay, wherever you are.' Another account had sent.

  'I know you're not dead. You just wanna be with Zach and your parents said no. You're dramatic as shit, Tori. Go home.' She was glad she didn't recognise that person.

  'Are you okay? What's going on? Why won't you talk to anyone?' This one she almost knew. An old friend, maybe?

  An exhausted groan left her as she rolled onto her back and scrolled through the rest of the messages. A few hours earlier, she'd managed to log back into her old social media accounts, finally remembering the passwords, but fell asleep halfway through combing the endless notifications. Comments on her posts from people she'd never met, mentions on stories she didn't feel comfortable with, and a million messages.

  It was hard to tell if these people did know her well enough to act the way they had been, and her jumbled up memories of her human life were preventing her from remembering who they were, or if it was all just strangers putting on a performance to look better.

  They went on for months. Most of the activity had died down a few weeks after she'd... disappeared, but some people were still trying to contact Victoria Evans.

  Even the few people who now knew what happened to her.

  The chat logs from Carly, London, Hunter, and Malachi were too hard to open. Not now, not when she had almost all of her memories with the group given back to her. There was no detachment to hide in.

  She scrolled right past the chat between her and the boy who'd done all of this to her.

  Nothing could rival what she'd see if she dared open that one. Though, her heart stuttered when she noticed the most recent text was from just a few weeks ago.

  "Shit," Autumn sat up, wiping her eyes, "Damn it, Zach."

  She needed a distraction. The whole account thing hadn't been a bad idea, just one she wasn't ready for yet. It was a lot. Especially because almost all of those people would continue to believe she would never see those texts. It was only fair for her to respect that privacy and leave them unread.

  "What's Tori doing?" Autumn murmured to herself, patting her cheeks to focus.

  Through the darkness of the room, the radio static in the back of her mind clawed into the open. Voices got louder, senses sharpened, and her other life became present. She gripped the blanket tightly to keep herself grounded where she was, in fear of accidentally hopping into the husk directly.

  The living room came into view, where London was half asleep on the lounge as she watched an old movie. Tori sat beside her.

  "Boring as hell." Autumn muttered. "Thanks. Great distraction."

  "What was that?" London looked over.

  Autumn's eyes snapped wide. She dug her claws into her blanket and glanced around her bedroom. She was still there. She hadn't switched. How did London hear her?

  Taking a deep breath, Autumn shut her eyes once more and fell back into her other perspective. London was staring at her with a perked brow. Had she said what she said as Autumn or Tori? Or both?

  "What the hell?" Autumn murmured.

  "What?" London frowned sleepily. "What's wrong?"

  Autumn snapped out of it again and clawed at her hair with a restrained growl.

  What was happening? She was sure she was speaking from this body, not the other.

  Autumn was halfway through biting her pillow when she realised she could still hear London speaking to her corpse. She quickly shut her eyes and returned.

  "Are you alright?" London sat up, concerned. "You're being... weird. Even for you."

  Autumn huffed through her nose and bit down on a claw. Tori stayed silent, still staring.

  "Victoria?" London worried. "Are you present or are you not? Can you hear me?"

  "Fuck!" Autumn groaned into her hands. "Now I have to be."

  London shook her head, bewildered. "Huh?"

  Again! She'd heard her again!

  With a heavy sigh and mounting frustration, Autumn let herself slip into the darkness and be tugged from one body to the other. It wasn't as bad of an experience when it was her decision, compared to the times she'd been forced to, and quite literally ripped out of her body.

  Tori jolted up with a shaky breath. The sensations of decay settled in as she finished transferring. The pain came next. Rotting flesh, failing organs, withering bones, chalking teeth. She hated this form.

  Kinda wished it could hurry up and die again.

  "I'm here." Tori rubbed her eyes gently, scared of injuring herself. "I think."

  "What was that about?" London crossed her arms, but her tone held no malice. "Freaked me out a bit."

  "I don't know." Tori shrugged. "I was just observing. I wasn't trying to be here. I don't know how the hell you heard me."

  "Freaky." London hugged her knees. "Were you in a middle ground maybe?"

  "Don't think that's possible from so far away." Tori thought aloud. "I don't know if a soul can stretch that far."

  London shot her a look.

  "We know almost nothing about how this works, I wouldn't be declaring what is or isn't possible just yet." She chuckled. "What were you doing? Anything weird?"

  "I was on my phone." Tori offered. "Barely awake, really."

  "You weren't doing anything that might be triggering?" London pushed lightly. "Because, in all fairness, you and Zach's powers seem to be pretty easily affected by your emotional states."

  Tori didn't respond right away. She rolled her eyes bitterly and fiddled with the pillow beside herself.

  "Okay, maybe I was doing something a little triggering. Fine." She muttered. "Still."

  "As long as you're alright, I don't mind who you are." London yawned. "You can come and go as you please."

  Tori nodded, falling quiet. No one had really said that to her. A certain someone had had arguments with her about her changing without telling anyone immediately. Carly, Hunter, and Malachi had their frustrations. She'd thought London shared them. Apparently not.

  No part of the girl wanted to be Tori. It wasn't just the fact that possessing a corpse felt disturbing and painful, but the fact it was her corpse. It was her body. It was the body she'd grown up in, made friends in, been abused in, done homework in, fallen in love in, and eventually died in. This was Victoria Evans. Whoever she was inside wasn't entirely that person. There was a clear disconnect between what aspects of Victoria had been her brain versus her soul. She felt like a whole half of herself was missing. At least, most of her memories were.

  So who was the husk, really? The reanimated corpse that had been a full person, or the stray soul jumping hosts because it can't find a home?

  "Thanks..." Tori finally said, slumping on the couch.

  Her mind didn't stop. Pandora's box had been opened.

  Who even was she? Did she deserve to call herself Victoria when she was a mere fragment? Was she just a spiritual parasite, who selfishly killed an innocent vampire and took over their life?

  Whoever she was, she let the dark pull her back into the abyss as her thoughts spiralled. She didn't fight, nor squirm. Once she managed to take in a breath of air with healthy lungs, now Autumn again, she fell back on the mattress and sighed. Her phone pinged yet again with another message from a stranger. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

  Her eyes? Autumn's eyes? Could she claim ownership of them when she'd stolen them? It wasn't like she could give them back. What was done was done. Maybe in the afterlife, she'd find the original Autumn Laurence and beg on her knees for forgiveness.

  As if she wouldn't go to hell.