Three Sentence Ficathon

Later, Susan thinks that if it hadn’t happened when she was still in the midst of grief and drowning in it, it all might have ended up very differently- or perhaps that is just a comforting lie she tells herself.

But there’s no point in lingering on that, not when she can’t go back, can’t return to that night at the cemetery and shout at herself to look out, to get out of there, not when she can’t undo the sharp, piercing bite and the almost delirious feeling that followed, can’t undo the vicious rage afterwards as she tore her sire apart, destroying her chance to know more about the creature she had been turned into.

But then again she would have killed him eventually anyways, she knows, for taking her choice away, and for cursing her to forever walk this hollow world.