I pretend to sleep the whole night because sleep never comes.

Every time I close my eyes, I see a raggedy giant holding a tiny ice elf by the throat. The ice creature’s eyes, full of terror, follow the giant’s blue, glowing sword as it makes its trajectory to his cold elf heart. And then he breaks like a mirror. The pieces of him fall onto me and the shards of glass cut into me and burry themselves in my flesh.

When I open my eyes, I can still feel the scratches on my skin.

In the morning, no one is anxious except me, and no one is tired except me. Apparently, the news called it a gas leak. I call it a conspiracy.

After last night neither Ringleson, nor Nancy, return to the hospital. I mean Ringleson is kinda, well, dead, but Nancy? She just disappears. When I ask Rachel about it? “Ringleson got transferred and Nancy moved away.”

Uh huh. Suuure. They’re still treating me like I’m a moron. Like I didn’t see the Ice Doctor die in person. I mean, come on. They need to up their game a little at least. It’s like they’re not even trying anymore.

Another cover up is what I say. Except I can’t say anything. I can only smile and nod and pretend the world is the same as it was Saturday morning, and that everything that’s happened since then, well, didn’t.

I have to toe the line, as it were.

But all those things did happen, and the world is not the same. Or, I guess, the world is the same as it’s always been, and I’m the one that changed.

I do have to wonder how many incidents have been swept under the rug this way. It’s the first time I realize it, but we have a lot of gas leaks, even by big city standards. Every few months there’s a segment on, not another one and, when are we going to find a solution for this?

But a solution never comes, and now I know why. Because sometimes it’s not gas that’s toxic, it’s people.

Anyway, now it’s Tuesday afternoon, my 48 hours are up, and people are finally allowed to visit again. I saw my mom this morning, along with Martha, and they’ve popped in a couple times since then. I’m glad Mom at least has had a friend to help her deal with all of this.

Not that Martha is innocent. Oh ho no. I don’t know how she did it, but she did it. Martha is definitely one of the many, many people I uh… checked. A long time ago. She came back as Shifter-But-Weak, like Chayla. Weak Ones can be considered mostly innocent, because of their weakness. It means they’re either not involved in the conspiracy against me and my mother, or if they are, they’re mere pawns and possibly even blackmailed. So, forgivable. To a point. Martha was, originally, forgivable.

You know where I’m going with this, right? Yeah. I don’t know how she covered up her Aura, or whatever the term is for the power that leaks out of people. I’m sure it has a proper term, but like everything else involving Shifters, nobody wants to fucking tell me anything.

Anyways, back to Martha, she’s as strong as René and David and that mutt who doesn’t deserve a name other than Clifford. So like, not at the level of Spencer at all and way below Owens, but still powerful. I’m guessing they’re upper middle level? Anyways, she can no longer be forgiven.

I’m not sure if she’s allowing me to Sense her properly now, or if, after my own powers have started awakening, her previous method of hiding herself is no longer effective. Doesn’t really matter, right? She’s one of them. The Bad Strong Ones. And I doubt her friendship with my mom is all that innocent.

And I can’t fucking say anything. I can only pretend I’m as oblivious as before and fake smile at that bitch.

They brought a huge vase filled with brightly coloured flowers with them the first visit. It’s sitting on my table. The scent of them is strong. Overpowering. It never used to be. I used to really like flowers. The more colours the better.

Everyday things are suddenly unusual now. Going to the bathroom makes me want to puke from the scent of human waste, which I never really noticed before. The air outside tastes so much better than the air inside. Rachel, now my regular nurse, is kind but makes bad romantic choices. And I never noticed it before, but Doctor Riley is a very sad woman, despite always making jokes. She always used to make me laugh. Now I just worry about her.

I don’t know why people worship gods or admire superheroes. And I don’t understand why people would want to be them. Having powers sucks. People keep coming in and disrupting the atmosphere of my room.

I hate it.

And I love my mom but the flowers on my table have an aroma so strong it makes my eyes water. I can’t tell her that though. She’s showing a strong front but she’s fragile right now. That’s also why I have to play nice with Martha for now. I don’t think she sees I’m recovering. I think all she could see this whole time is me on a gurney with that paramedic Livna on top of me, barely keeping me alive.

I know this because when I look at her that’s the image that flashes into my head. Like I’m reading her surface thoughts or something? It makes it hard to keep a steady gaze, and that just makes her worry even more.

At least Fintan is no longer in my head. I think our connection broke shortly after Detective Idiot saved me. I no longer see him in my dreams either, and that suits me fine. Cause that means there’s no immediate threat, right? I’ll just choose to believe that.

Because the alternative is that he’s ‘resting’ so deeply he can’t warn me even if there are immediate threats. Yeah, let’s not think about that.

Speaking of dreams, Fintan was right about the cougar leaving me alone. I didn’t know whether to believe him or not during our awkward first meet up on that beach, but I haven’t mind-melded since the night before all this shit went down.

This is good, because the only people I want to see right now are my friends, err- my one maybe real friend, Chayla, even though the idea of that terrifies me. Lying to my mom about all of this is hard. I want to throw up after, but I can do it.

Lying to my 'friends' is another matter. Chayla can always tell when I’m lying, René too. And while it’s not something I should brag about, I’m a good liar when I try. But those two have powers of their own. Lie detector powers. I swear it.

My only hope is they won’t care and let me have my secret. Friends do that, don’t they? I haven’t had many real friends, but on T.V they keep secrets from each other all the time.

It’s a thin hope but it’s all I’ve got. Until I know my full situation, I want to keep things on the downlow as much as possible.

“Good Morning.”

Rachel is here with my breakfast tray. Cream of wheat and lemon Jell-O. Kill me now.

“Don’t hospitals have any other food? Like real food?”

She gives me a sympathetic look.

“Your body is still recovering. It can’t handle heavy foods right now. Once the doctor clears you, you’ll be able to eat whatever you want.”

“And when will that be?”

She gets shifty eyed with me and her Aura becomes nervous, stressed. I can read Auras now by the way, that’s a thing. I mean, like I said I don’t know if they’re called Auras but that’s what I’m calling them.

It started with the emotions thing and has just kept evolving. There aren’t any colors like on T.V, but I can read the energy that surrounds people. And with people I’m extra close to, I can even see brief images, like with my mom. A person’s power level is also within their Aura. It’s like a wave full of various information I can access.

“We’re still figuring out the results from your tests.”

“Like why I lost so much blood and lived?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“And why my wrist won’t heal.”

“Yes, that too.”

“And why I’m hungry all the ti-”

“We should have it all figured out soon.”

She doesn’t sound sure of that and won’t look at me while she’s adjusting my sheet and blankets. I undid the bedding tossing around so much last night. It seems all I can do is make more work and stress for everyone.

“You’re saying there’s no explanation?”

“The doctor is still-”

“After four days? Still what? What is that quack still doing?”

Rachel flinches. I lost myself again. These angry outbursts are becoming more and more frequent. It might be connected to that concerning-but-not-my-fault seed an anger in my gut.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, Kara. Well, if that’s everything-”

She’s afraid. I scared her. Little old me. “My hand just hurts all the time-”

“I understand, it’s fine. Do you need anything else?”

She wants to leave. I let her.

“No, I’m good.”

She nods curtly and hurries out. I’m not good, though, I’m a bitch. It’s not her fault, none of it is. She’s a Weak One. She’s not a part of this and doesn’t deserve this rage. But I don’t have a good handle on my emotions anymore. I am having trouble trusting anyone, and I think that’s making it worse.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Not that I really trusted anyone before, but I would at least pretend to, and do proper calculations and investigations before reacting with justified prejudice.

Not to mention the whole magical eye-glamour thing that Spencer mentioned isn’t working for any of them anymore. For a while I still noticed a blur, like how Spencer’s face was blurred at the beach, but in the real world. This started right after I first woke up here, actually, but there was too much going on and I was too tired, so I didn’t focus on it. But eventually each one of them I saw was less blurred at first, until now no one is blurred.

All of their masks are gone now. I’ve seen so many different weirdos it doesn’t even faze me now. But it just… proves that there really aren’t any Normals here at all. Any if I ever do see a Normal, it wouldn’t be… normal. This is an illegal town of Shifters, like I always knew.

And no one is on my side.

I’ve never felt so alone. Or so surrounded.

I’d chalk my emotional outbursts up to stress, like a normal person does, but I know something is happening. Like, to my body. The first few days I was so overwhelmed by everything, and my whole body hurt so much I could hardly pin-point exact ailments.

But now? My throat is sore of course, but my wrist stings constantly, even after they tried to numb it with this gel stuff. The gel just made my wrist cold and pained. It isn’t a slight stinging either, it’s like a constant bee sting. Those hurt in case you’re one of the lucky few who haven’t experienced one yet.

My wrist isn’t even the worst part, though. I eat everything they give me, ask for and get extras when I can, but I never feel full. And it only takes a half hour after a meal before I’m as hungry as before I’d started eating.

At least this I can tentatively blame on becoming a Shifter. I was turned by, well, basically a vampire, and vampires need blood to survive, not food. Except I’ve walked around the halls a bit today and passed by this heavily bandaged and bloody dude. I didn’t feel any special need to rip him open and drink him dry.

Uh, I’m basing my guesses a lot of the old Sapiens myths and not the actual Shifters they’re all based on, but, like I already said, no ones to tell me anything of value.

I didn’t feel any hungrier after smelling the blood either, and I still dislike the smell of it, so I can only determine this means I’m hungry for something else. As to what that is, I’m at a loss.

It probably has more to do with me not having a soul. But I don’t know.

And it’s pissing me off.

The hunger, the pain, the annoying smells and annoying Auras all around me, that fact I’m like this in the first place…these things are all adding up to make one angry Kara.

The problem is, in the past I’ve always been good at handling my emotions, or at least not letting any get totally out of control. I didn’t reveal them outside. I let them simmer under the surface. I seem to have lost that ability when I gained these annoying ones.

It’s not a fair trade, and I want to renegotiate.

While that’s not possible, I might not be able to undo what was done to me, that doesn’t mean I can only sit around and wait for them to tell me what’s going on whenever it becomes convenient for them like the inconsiderate fucks they are.

Rachel isn’t telling me everything, I can feel it in my gut. My friends won’t be by until after school, which means I have a whole day of detective time.

I slide off the bed and wince, my body still doesn’t like any type of shock, and I’m clumsy on my feet. I’m not constantly connected to an IV anymore, but I need to keep the needle in my elbow just in case. This makes moving around a lot easier.

And yes, I said elbow. One of my wrists is bandaged and won’t heal, and I ripped the flesh open on the other one during the whole Ice Doctor Sleeping Curse and Not A Gas Leak fiasco. So it’s in my elbow now. Not the bony part, the inside part, so it has a light splint too to keep me from bending it. Lovely, eh?

The computer at the nurse’s station will have my information in it. The problem is accessing it without anyone noticing. I know my mom’s password. Please don’t ask how. I just need a distraction.

Thankfully I know the perfect one for the cliché blonde receptionist.

I’m not kidding, I know all blondes aren’t dumb, but this one is, and she makes the rest look bad. I’m positive she only took this job to look cute and answer phones. She keeps people on the line longer than need be and does her nail polish at her desk. That can’t be regulation.

Like seriously, she’s so dumb. I dunno who she boinked to get hired. And I don’t care, dumb works for me.

“Hey, Lillian, isn’t your break soon?”

She looks at me suspiciously, like most of the staff have come to do. But also, with a hint of fear, because of who my mom is. The Don of the ER, remember? I’ll admit I’ve been known to use my sway here, even before this, but not for anything as important as this mission before.

“Yes, why?”

“My friend just texted me, apparently Forever 21 is having this huge sale, and-”

“Wait what?” She drops her lip gloss halfway through a reapply.

“Yeah, but there’s only an hour left, and-”

“Oh, my, god… there’s only one and it’s so far awaaay.” She pouts and her aura is panicked and broody.

“I ruined my favourite sports bra during my, well, accident, and I really love theirs. Do you think you could get me one?” I look at her with puppy dog eyes. “My mom will pay you back and I’d be sooo grateful.”

“Darn it, my replacement doesn’t get here for fifteen minutes and by then the sale…”

“But like, what could really happen in fifteen minutes? I’ll totally cover for you.”

I can tell I almost have her. I hope so anyway because acting all spacey and blond is hard. I don’t even like Forever 21. And I certainly wouldn’t trust their supposed sports bras during any athletic feats I might pursue.

“I know for sure my mom would appreciate not having to make an extra trip. It’s been so stressful with me being all banged up and all…” I rub my neck and put on a pained expression.

“Well, I’d love to help out Dana, of course…”

Bingo. Everyone sucks up to the Don, and by extension, me. She just needs a liiiittle…push-

Wait whoa, something just happened. My brain felt weird there for a moment.

“What’s your size, honey?”

Lillian has gotten up and grabbed her purse with lightning reflexes. She turns, almost robotically, and is out of here in no time flat.

“I’m a size 4!” I shout to her. Not that it matters, as there’s no sale anyway.

That was odd. Eh, whatever.

There’s no way I can get onto the actual computer without being seen but thank god for technology. Every important person in this hospital has a tablet connected to their main computer for when they need to access things on the go, or two people need access to something at the same time. I swipe her tablet and act as natural as possible.

Password: KareBear

Ugh. Just because I know the password doesn’t mean I approve. That’s the old nickname dad always used. Despite the fact I never even watched CareBears as a kid. I don’t know why she still uses this same password. She needs to move on.

“Hello, secret documents.” I know I have a smug look on my face, but I can’t help it. I love it when things go my way.

“Kara!”

Shit.

I force myself to turn slowly, you know, all nonchalant and stuff, but inside I’m freaking out. It’s Rachel.

“Is that Lillian’s tablet?”

I look at her like she’s nuts. It’s a well practiced expression, one I wear often to fool teachers, and I know I pull it off. I feel her suspicion turn to confusion.

“Uh, no, it’s mine?”

“Well, where is Lillian’s?” She’s defensive. Good. These Aura powers aren’t totally useless, but I’ve always had a bit of a gift for manipulation.

“With Lillian.” I turn back to ‘my’ tablet and open up a random game App, pretending to have been playing it the whole time.

“Where is Lillian, then?”

“She went to the bathroom.” I keep my voice level and point towards to loo. Nothing’s going on, everything’s cool.

“She took the tablet to the bathroom?”

“Mhm. And she asked me to tell her if anyone called while she was gone. So she can call them back, I guess.”

I shrug, like this is totally normal. Best part is, I’m not totally lying. I’ve seen Lillian take the tablet into the bathroom at least twice.

“Oh, um, okay.” See? It is believable. But only because it’s Lillian. “You’re not to answer any of the calls, ya hear? Just write down the time and number.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I do a mock salute and she rolls her eyes, the last her suspicion gone.

Too easy.

She walks past and checks on the screen as she does, but all I’m doing is pushing same coloured jellybeans together. I wait until her heels clicking is far, far away and take deep breath.

Too close.

Okay back to business. I open the tab I was on. I need my patient number, so I check my little hospital bracelet and put it in and… presto.

“Patient, Kara Lowe, 15, yada, yada, oh.”

I find what I was looking for: my list of ailments.

Throat Laceration. Well, that goes without saying. The rest are more interesting.

Unidentifiable Infection: Bloodborne. --REDACTED-- Unidentifiable Infection: Bloodborne. --REDACTED--

I mean, I have a small inkling of what that might be. I don’t know why they typed that twice. They should proof-read their medical files, wow.

Mutant Bite and Infection. --REDACTED-- Mutant Mauling and Infection. --REDACTED-- Non-Viral. Healing is stunted. Unknown Causes. Wound is festered. Unknown Causes. Waiting on Reports from Dr. S. Riley, Dr. V. Volodin.

That must be the wound on my hand. The healing is stunted, and I think festered means the infection is bad or something. Hm, they list the bite and mauling and two separate things, I wonder wh-

Just then I have a sudden, terrible realization. At first, I’d assumed that the blood infection and hand infection were from the same source. And that they’d double typed it or something but what if the unidentifiable bloodborne thingy was put twice because I have two. Two different infections in my blood. I know David got some of his blood in me because that’s how I survived. In the stories that’s also how vampires turn other people into vampires, I think. Obviously, that’s not how things work in real life. But in the werewolf stories… of dear god. In those stories, all the werewolves had to do was bite or scratch someone and that’s it. They become a werewolf.

They’re like zombies that way.

So it wasn’t just David who interfered with me that day. Fintan was pretty annoyed at it all and said it hadn’t been necessary that time. Even though he said I wouldn’t have a lucky second chance, apparently my first time dying I didn’t actually need help. I guess because of the Spirit Chamber? But I couldn’t use the chamber a second time, I need a Shadow and then, I’m not sure, but I think Fintan was implying I could be saved again. That’s comforting. Would be more comforting if I had my Shadow. And if my Shadow wasn’t kinda suspicious.

But anyways. I thought Clifford’s only contribution was murdering me. But it turns out he also added to my infections. Added to my problems.

I’m gonna shoot that damn dog.

Hm, the rest is all medical mumbo jumbo, as well a lot of redacted shit with black lines, hella fishy, but these tests I can make sense of are all blood tests. The infection is in my blood. Owens and Spencer said I was getting ‘tested,’ whatever that means. Could they be referring to all these blood tests? Is the fact I have a weird infection from both a vampire and a werewolf the reason I’m Undesirable? Is that why the Ice Doctor said I couldn’t be allowed?

No, it can’t be that simple, can it? How could nothing like this have happened in ten thousand years?

Or maybe it has happened, many times, and those Shifters were all killed off. Just like I will be. If they have their way.

Of course, even if it’s improbable, it’s not impossible. The fact that the results kept coming back as ‘unknown causes’ is the best proof that I am, somehow, completely unique. After all, despite ten thousand years of weird things happening, whether archaic methods of determination or modern, my results had no precedent.

God, I wish I knew what was going on. I thought I’d get some answers, but I just have more questions now. I should try to snoop on Dr. Riley or this Volodin person. Unless that stuff’s all redacted and scary too. Crap.

I’m panicking but the rational part of me knows Lillian will be back soon, and probably angry, and I don’t want to deal with that right now.

Somehow, I pull it together long enough to take a deep breath, log off, and put the tablet back where Lillian had left it.

I don’t want to be around when Lillian gets back, and it’s still a couple hours before school is out which means I won’t have any visitors any time soon. So I wander the halls listlessly for a bit. Until I get hungry. Again. Literally just ate.

I grumble my way to the food court. There’s caution tape around Taco Time and Subway still, from my misadventure with the Ice Doctor. I shudder when I remember those doors flying across the room and that giant stumbling in.

I don’t know if he punched them or kicked them, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? Detective Idiot still sent them flying across the main lobby and food court. If they hadn’t rammed into Taco Time’s counter who knows how far they’d have flown.

And what he said that night still bothers me. Like I said before, my trust is wearing thin. For now, he’s not going to let maniacs get to me, but if this Council decides I’m dangerous or gross or whatever Undesirable means, then he’ll probably be the one to kill me.

Is it just me, or is that kinda fucked up?