“I’m hungry,” she whispered. Her eyes weren't human. They were the color of root beer bottles held up to the sun.

I closed my eyes. The wind smelled like her hairbrush.

“You’re bleeding,” I said, pointing at a dark drip from her nostril.

I went home and sharpened my mother’s sewing scissors. The final scene happened at the town pool, after hours. Megan had lured the entire football team there with a text that said “skinny dipping and no consequences.” She was in the water, floating on her back, when I walked in. The boys were already gone. The pool was pink.