I ran until I had nothing left. Then I tried to keep running. But I couldn’t catch my breath, my heart hammered a million beats per minute.

I stood heaving by the side of the highway. Six lanes of cars zoomed endlessly past me.

I finally noticed that I was covered in blood; my hand still grasping pieces of Feather’s throat.

I screamed and jumped, flailing to try to get her off me. I needed to wash my hands…and shower…and bleach myself. But there wasn’t a bathroom in sight. Hell, I had no clothes or money—how long could my new body survive without food?

To my shock I saw a green sign telling me Washington D.C. was only five miles away.

How? How fast did I run? How long did I run for?

I didn’t even know I had been heading south. I started walking, slowly this time, looking for other signs that would tell me I was near something.

Relief washed over me when I saw a sign for a rest stop in one mile. The thought of washing the blood off propelled me to run again.

The rest stop wasn’t as packed as it would have been before the gods showed up. Most people chose to stay close to home where they knew their monsters and how to avoid them.

Still I skidded to a stop in front of people having picnics and making bathroom runs.

One look at me and people screamed and ran. For a moment I thought maybe I did undergo a transformation and just hadn’t realized it. Then I remembered…I looked like I killed someone.

At least the line at the bathroom suddenly disappeared.

I walked to a sink and washed…and washed…and washed. The red seemed to have seeped into my skin. I felt the sob knot in my chest and slowly rise with my panic until I was crouching on the ground and sobbing.

“Are—are you okay?” A girl’s voice spoke softly behind me.

I turned my bleary vision towards the voice. A pretty blonde girl stood in the bathroom doorway. She was likely my age, about twenty-three, wearing a black crop-top and grungy jeans. She looked nervous, sure, but not scared. Who in their right mind wasn’t scared of a Worshipper?

“No,” I hoped she would leave me alone.

“You’re not a monster,” the girl continued, “You don’t have to kill anyone.”

I spun around to face her, stumbling to my feet, “What?”

The girl took a step back. I don’t know why I was happy to see fear. I hesitated; what if it was like Sam—I’d do something awful without even realizing it.

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“You should leave,” I said as coldly as I could.

The girl didn’t move. I turned back to the mirror. I could see, now that the panic attack died down, that the blood had washed off. My clothes still reeked of murder. I glanced at my reflection. My thin, dirty blonde hair hung in an oily mess around my head. My hazel eyes, which I’d always thought my prettiest feature, were sunken in and large, dark circles ringed them. My whole body looked more bone than meat. I sighed, shutting my eyes.

After a long silence, the girl spoke again, “Frankly you’re terrifying the people around here and you’re covered in blood. How about you come back to my place and take a shower, get changed and relax.”

I should’ve questioned the generosity. Nobody was kind to a Worshiper. Yet, the thought of enveloping myself in a hot shower and clean clothes had me turn, face the girl and say, “Okay.”

I followed the girl to a beat-up, red Hyundai. It was the only car left in the rest stop. I sighed; what was life like before the Prince came into my life?

She drove in silence. I didn’t even know her name. I glanced at her and realized I didn’t care to ask.

It only took a few minutes to realize we weren’t heading to the city. We turned off the interstate, then off the major street down a two-lane road, then onto a bumpy dirt road. My teeth chattered as we bounced up and down.

“Almost there,” the girl glanced at me before returning her eyes to the road.

We stopped in front of a dirty, white, rundown mobile home on a giant plot of land.

“You live here?” I asked, feeling like something was wrong but unable to place exactly what.

“Y-yup,” the girl’s tried to smile and failed, that fear that sent a shiver up my spine appeared back in her eyes.

The house was neater inside than out. A very used but clean couch sat in the living room in front of a small TV. The kitchen was cramped but clean.

The girl handed me a towel and a white shirt and jeans and pointed me to a shower.

“Thank you,” I met her blue eyes. Again that feeling of missing something came over me. I shook it off, worse comes to worse, what could she do to a Worshiper anyway?

I turned the shower on and then I heard it…the door opening and closing. Something clicked in my head.

I ran to the door. Locked, of course.

I thought about the strength it took to rip out Feather’s throat. I can break this door down. I raised my leg like I’d seen in so many movies, completely expecting it to fail. I kicked and the door flew off its hinges.

I ran out.

I screamed as the explosion that followed me broke my eardrums and burned my back. I ran until I reached the road where a beat-up, red Hyundai sat waiting for the smoke to clear. It wasn’t alone, a black Jeep sat next to it with three men and one woman, all armed with machine guns.

They spotted me. They were yelling something but my damaged eardrums couldn’t hear them. My back didn’t hurt but I felt the heat from the explosion.

I didn’t stop to think. Of course I could die how dumb to think I didn’t need to worry…and even like this I still wanted to live.

My body moved…running fast enough to grab the guns and throw them away. Avoided the man with a baton that tried to aim for my head. I punched another man in the face, breaking his nose. Finally I stopped in front of the blonde girl. She was shaking but still she pointed a gun at my chest.

My eardrums had healed enough that I could hear the three people behind me regrouping. “If I was anyone else, all of you would already be dead. I am going to leave and you’re not going to stop me. You were right when you said I’m not a monster and I have no intention of starting to be one now. Understand?”

“You…you did kill someone! You were covered in blood!” the girl yelled, “Why wouldn’t you kill us?”

“I’m not a Worshiper,” I whispered, “I killed one.”

I felt it more than saw. The three behind me were picking up more guns. I needed to run now. They were human…and I wasn’t…not anymore.