Freya's POV

Ugh, I sighed heavily, my eyes staring blankly at the pages of my notebook.

I was sitting in the back of the classroom, the sounds of other students chattering fading into the background. The teacher had left a few minutes ago, and everyone was getting ready to leave for lunch. I should have been paying attention, but my mind kept wandering to the same thought that had been haunting me for weeks. What if a vampire could just take me away from all this? It was a crazy idea, something out of a storybook, but it felt like the only way to escape.

"Hey!" A voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I jumped, startled, and turned to see Blake, my best friend, standing beside my desk with a grin on his face. "You were a million miles away again, weren't you?" he teased, pulling out the chair next to me.

"Not really," I lied, shutting my notebook. "Just... tired."

Blake raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Tired of thinking about your ex, Kevin?" he asked, his voice light but probing.

"No!" I protested, a little too quickly. "It's not about him."

"Sure, sure," Blake said, rolling his eyes. "Look, Eya, you've got to stop obsessing over him. He wasn't all that great. I mean, I'm way better looking," he added with a wink.

I couldn't help but smile at his attempt to cheer me up. "You wish," I shot back. "Kevin might've been a jerk, but he was no monkey like you."

Blake laughed, his carefree attitude always managing to make me feel a little lighter. "Well, I can't argue with that logic. But seriously, what's up? You've been spacing out a lot lately."

I hesitated for a moment, debating whether to share what had been weighing on me. But this was Blake—he'd been my rock through everything. If I couldn't talk to him, who could I talk to?

"I just... feel stuck," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Like I'm trapped in this endless cycle. School, work, home—nothing ever changes. And my parents... they just make it worse. I don't know how much more I can take."

Blake's expression softened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "You mean they're still giving you a hard time?"

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "It's like nothing I do is ever good enough. They always find something to criticize. I could get top grades or work double shifts, and they'd still find a reason to yell at me. It's like I'm just a burden they're stuck with, and they make sure I never forget it."

Blake's eyes darkened with concern. He reached out, his hand squeezing mine gently. "You know you don't deserve that, right? You're amazing, Eya. They're the ones who can't see it."

Maybe, I mumbled, not entirely convinced. But it doesn't change anything. Every day feels like I'm walking on eggshells, waiting for the next explosion. I just want to feel... free. Like I matter to someone.

Blake sighed and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Eya, you matter to me. And one day, we'll get out of here. I promise. We'll figure something out."

I managed a small smile, grateful for his words. "Thanks, Blake. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Lucky for you, you'll never have to find out," he said, giving me a reassuring squeeze before standing up. "Come on, let's grab something to eat before you head to work."

I glanced at the clock on the wall. My shift started in less than an hour, but I had a little time. "Okay," I agreed, getting up and grabbing my bag. We walked out of the classroom and down the crowded hallway, the noise and energy of the other students making my head spin.

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As we made our way to the cafeteria, I couldn't shake the feeling of hopelessness that had been creeping up on me. Blake's words were comforting, but deep down, I knew he couldn't fix everything. My parents' constant demands, the endless shifts at my part-time job, the crushing loneliness—it all felt like too much.

If only I could escape.

The thought came again, unbidden. I closed my eyes for a moment, picturing a life far from here. No more parents treating me like a servant, no more feeling like I didn't belong. Just freedom.

Blake nudged me as we entered the cafeteria. "You okay?"

I nodded, trying to push my dark thoughts aside. "Yeah, just tired. Let's grab something quick. I don't want to be late for work."

We grabbed sandwiches and sat down at a table near the window. I picked at my food, my appetite gone. Blake chatted about his plans for the weekend, trying to lift my spirits, but my mind was elsewhere.

After a few minutes, Blake's phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. "I've got to go, Eya. My mom needs help with something. You gonna be okay?"

I forced a smile. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Go. I'll see you later."

Blake gave me one last concerned look before heading out. As he disappeared into the crowd, I was left alone with my thoughts. I finished my sandwich in silence, the noise of the cafeteria fading into the background.

Before I knew it, lunch was over, and it was time to head to my shift at the small local eatery where I worked. I walked across town, my steps heavy, dreading the hours ahead. My boss was strict, and the customers could be demanding, but it was a job. It paid the bills. It kept me going.

If only there were a way out, I thought for the millionth time as I pushed open the door to the eatery. Someone, anyone, take me away from this.

The day dragged on, a blur of taking orders, clearing tables, and forcing smiles. By the time my shift ended, I was exhausted. My feet ached, and my head pounded from the constant noise and stress. I was almost too tired to think as I made my way home.

I just want to sleep and forget everything, I thought, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Finally, I reached my house. I let myself in quietly, hoping not to disturb my parents. The moment the door creaked, though, my mother's voice cut through the silence, sharp and angry.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, storming into the hallway. Her eyes were narrowed, full of disdain. "You know what time it is?"

"I was at work," I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. "I had to stay late—"

"Excuses," she spat, cutting me off. "You're full of them. Always staying out, never doing anything useful. Do you think this house runs on excuses? Huh?" She stepped closer, the familiar scent of her perfume mixing with the acrid smell of cigarettes clinging to her clothes.

"No, but—"

"But nothing!" she snapped, shoving me against the wall. "You're useless! A waste of space. We give you everything, and this is how you repay us? By coming home late, acting like you own the place?"

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears. I knew arguing would only make things worse. I nodded, my eyes cast down, staring at the worn-out shoes on my feet. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Sorry doesn't pay the bills, does it?" she sneered, grabbing my arm and yanking me closer. "Your father works his ass off, and you can't even bother to be home on time. You think your lousy job is enough? You think we need your pity money?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My throat felt tight, and my chest ached with each harsh word she threw at me.

"I don't even know why we bother with you," she muttered, letting me go with a shove. "You're nothing but a burden. A mistake we should've never made."

Her words stung more than the physical pain. I stumbled back, feeling the heat of tears burning in my eyes. She turned away, dismissing me as if I were nothing.

"Go to your corner and stay there," she hissed, heading back to the kitchen. "You're lucky we even let you in this house."

I moved quietly, making my way to the small space in the living room where a thin mattress lay on the floor. My makeshift bed. I sank onto it, pulling the blanket over my head, trying to drown out the sound of her muttering in the kitchen. I lay there for hours, staring into the darkness, my mind a swirling mess of thoughts and regrets.

Why am I even here? Why do I bother trying?

The tears came then, silent and bitter, soaking into my pillow. I didn't know how much longer I could take it. My parents’ resentment, the constant feeling of being unwanted. I felt like I was suffocating, every breath a struggle.

Why do I have to live like this? Why can't I just be free? The questions echoed in my mind, over and over, my heart aching with every beat.

“Happy Birthday, Freya.”

I froze, the tears stopping mid-flow. My thoughts slipped away as that voice, soft but edged with something sharp, cut through the silence like a knife.

“W-who’s there?” I asked, my voice trembling as I looked around. The living room was empty, only the faint sound of insects outside our house breaking the stillness.

He stepped forward, the moonlight catching his features. He was beautiful—too beautiful. Dark hair framed a face that was almost unreal in its perfection. His eyes, a deep crimson, locked onto mine.

“Hi, Freya. Miss me?” he said, his voice smooth and unnervingly familiar, sending a shiver down my spine.

“V-v-vampire,” I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it.