The sickest part was that we stayed at the farmhouse while the couple’s bodies rotted in the kitchen. I went upstairs to grab a sheet to cover them with, and I found all these old pictures. There was a black-and-white photo with the man on a bike and his wife standing beside him, and there was another more modern one with a huge group that had probably been taken at a family reunion.
These were people, and we used them for a snack.
Before I died, I never cared much about other people and their problems. I only cared about my own. All I could think about was my stupid husband who left me and the cup size of the dumb broad he left me for. Or how I was gonna be thirty and still wasn’t rich, married, and living on an island. But my time with Molly and the girls, seeing how little they gave a shit about anyone’s life, shook me up something fierce and I was humbled quick.
I had been such a stupid, silly girl. I wasted so much of my life on things that just didn’t matter.
Living in that farmhouse gave me a lot of time to think, and most of it was when the girls were asleep. I didn’t get tired during the day the way they did, so I used that time to sit by the window and reflect. I missed my parents, my daily routine, going shopping, getting the mail, eating a real meal. And I missed Cora. I never thought I would, but I did.
Dying was my least favorite memory. I remembered the pain, the smell of blood, the panic, and I remembered the slow acceptance I felt when I knew my life was over. Cora stayed with me as tears ran down her face, and I had never been more touched over another person’s agony before. It meant she cared.
As much as I pitied the old couple that were killed, they went to their graves knowing someone would mourn them and that they’d be together again. I didn’t have that. Everyone I ever knew thought I was dead and had done their mourning already. My parents probably sold my belongings on eBay and moved on.
It wasn’t like I could come home to them. I wasn’t even human anymore.
I stared out into the sunny front lawn of the farmhouse and noticed a tricycle leaned against a tree. It looked like it had been sitting there for a while because it was covered in frost. It probably belonged to their grandkids who left it there when their parents picked them up. It made me sad because they had no idea their last visit really was their last.
My chest tightened and I began to cry. I didn’t want to be this monster. I couldn’t live like this.
I opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch, ready to let the sun engulf me and turn me into ashes. My suffering would at least be over.
I closed my eyes and raised my face to the sun, but nothing happened. Everything felt just as it would if I were human. I stood in the sunlight, and I was okay.
There was a sound of the door clicking open behind me, and I looked over my shoulder and saw Veronica standing on the other side of the screen door. Her eyes were bloodshot and wide, amazed at what I was able to do. But there was something else in her stare too. Her lips, that were still bloodstained from a full night of feasting, opened and she yelled, “Molly!”
I knew what this meant. They found the daywalker. I was the daywalker.
Before Veronica’s mouth could utter another word, I took off running. It may have been winter, but there was still sunlight, so I knew they couldn’t follow me for another few hours. I had that much time to get away.
Lunar City was the nearest place I could hide, and I went hoping Cora or anyone from Brinly’s compound would be there and could help me. I ran through the cold, through the sleet, my hair drenched and my stomach growling, and I only ever stopped when I literally couldn’t go any further.
“Ouch!” Priscilla yelled. It pulled me out of my memory and I looked over and saw her sucking on her thumb as she sat on the floor near a table of candles. “Why did that hurt so much?”
“This just in: fire hurts,” Cora joked and then took the lighter out of Priscilla’s hand and lit another candle.
“You know I traveled all the way down here with your butthead boyfriend to rescue you, right? You could show a little fucking gratitude.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. You want me to suck your thumb for you?”
Priscilla pulled her hand into her chest like Cora was really gonna do it. “There’s no need to get crude now. Just because you still suck your thumb doesn’t mean you gotta suck mine.”
Cora fake gasped. “Have you been reading my diary again?”
“Like I’d need to. I’m sure every entry is: dear diary, today Max looked at me again, and it was like the world stopped spinning and stars came flying out of his ass.”
“That actually wasn’t bad until the last part. That line felt unnecessary.”
“I’ll brush up on my English major for you.”
“That’d be nice. Thanks.” Cora crawled off of the floor and came up to Dana. “You have any marshmallows?”
Dana sort of giggled. “You wanna eat marshmallows?”
“We’re sitting in the dark with a bunch of candlelight. My mind immediately goes to s’mores. We could even tell a few ghost stories if we’re feeling frisky.”
“What for?” Priscilla asked as she played with a flame. “We’re all about to be ghosts anyway.”
“I think me standing here is proof not everyone who dies
