The Stranger

The sun shone brightly on Okomora Street as vehicles and footsteps moved in cadence.

Emma navigated through the wave of the crowd.

She was in a hurry to reach her destination, just like others who had places to be. Her hands were firm on her bag. It was her first day attending her new high school and she was already running late.

Then her eyes caught a stranger at her side. A boy, about the same age, it seemed. He was in the same school uniform she wore. Black baggy trousers and white shirt unbuttoned at the top. He also had other accessories on, a metal collar around his neck and headphones on.

He walked slowly, right in the middle of the road, completely in his own world.

The screech of tires cut through the air.

Suddenly, a truck came barreling toward them, swerving wildly. Without thinking, Emma ran shoving the boy out of the way, taking his place. The truck slammed into her, sending her flying. Emma hit the pavement as the truck sped past. 

The driver didn't stop. He just kept going, vanishing down the street.

"Oh my God!" Gasps rippled through the pedestrians as they all watched the sudden accident unfold right before their very eyes.

Emma lay on the ground in agony, as blood rushed out profusely. The boy slowly took off his headphones. And stood up, dusting dirty from his uniform. He watched as people stared Folly. Each person flashed their phones around recording.

"Dozens of phones, not one call for help. Humans are predictable.” the boy said flatly.

Emma's gaze drifted from the sky to the boy she had just saved. His hair was silver-white, almost glowing, his eyes were a piercing deep red, and his skin so pale it seemed unnatural, but perfect.

He walked toward her, closer than he needed to be.

"Fearlessly saving a stranger. How stupid of you." He leaned down slowly, his fingers lightly brushing her neck.

Emma couldn't move.
His lips came closer to hers for a brief moment, and to the naked eye, it looked like a kiss.

Around them, bystanders began to whisper. "What is he doing? What is he doing?"

Then suddenly she jolted upright, gasping for air. The crowd stood awestruck as the wounded girl suddenly rose to her feet, unable to comprehend what they had witnessed.

The boy grabbed her wrist. His grip was cold."Come with me. You don't have much time," he said in a low voice.

"Where are we going?" she wanted to ask, but her mind went numb. For some reason, she didn't want to pull away. She felt strangely drawn to him.

He pulled her into a narrow alley and into an abandoned building — a place where even the bright sunlight on Okomora Street failed to shine.

He let go of her wrist.
Emma stumbled a step back, chest heaving. The building smelled of dust and old wood. Somewhere in the dark, water dripped.

The boy didn't look at her. He pressed a hand to his forehead and started pacing, muttering under his breath.

"I shouldn't have done that. I really shouldn't have." He let out a short, humorless laugh. " My brother is going to kill me. They're going to be furious. They may already know."
His calm composed demeanor was completely gone.

"Who's they?" Emma asked.

He didn't answer. He kept pacing, and she kept watching him, because it was easier than thinking about what had just happened.

That was when she noticed his hair.

Silver-white, glowing faintly in the gloom. Then, for the span of a heartbeat, it was pink. Then blonde. 

Then black as ink.

Emma blinked hard.
Silver-white again.

I'm in shock, she told herself. I just got hit by a truck. Of course I'm seeing things.

She looked down, needing something solid to hold onto, and her stomach dropped.

Her shirt was soaked red. The blood was everywhere, stiff and sticky against her skin. But when she pressed her hand to her ribs, to the exact place the truck had struck her, there was nothing. No pain. No wound. Not even a bruise.

She pressed harder. Nothing.

Her fingers started to shake.
"Why did you bring me here?" Her voice came out thin. "What did you do to me?, or maybe I'm dreaming?"

The boy finally stopped and met her eyes. "That truck should have killed you. You were dying, and there wasn't time to take you anywhere. So I fixed it." He paused. "I gave you my blood."

Emma stared at him.

"That's the only reason you're standing here," he said.

She waited for the rest of the joke. It never came. “So your blood healed me?” Emma asked sarcastically.

“Yes,” the boy answered briefly.

Emma sighed “How and why would your blood heal me?”

“I'm a vampire.” He said rapidly.

She wiped her bloody palms on her skirt Pretending not to hear what he just said."I don't know what kind of game this is, but I don't have time for it. It's my first day at a new school. I'm already late. I have to go."

"You can't go outside," his voice sounded with urgency.

"And why should I not go outside?" She asked

He ignored the question. He looked at her the way someone looks at a person walking toward a cliff edge, then said it plainly.

"Because you're a vampire now."
Silence.

Then Emma laughed. It burst out of her, loud and a little hysterical.

"This again? Seriously?" She shook her head, still half-laughing. "You know what, thanks for the... whatever this was. Really."

She turned and walked to the door.

"Wait," the boy said. For the first time, he sounded afraid. "Don't open that."

She grabbed the handle and pulled.

The door swung open, and a single thin ray of sunlight slipped through the gap. It fell across the back of her hand.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then her skin began to smoke.
The pain hit all at once, white and searing, as though someone had pressed a hot iron to her arm. Emma screamed and wrenched backward. 

Her heel caught on the floor and she lurched blindly, grabbing for anything. Her fingers closed around the boy's sleeve and she clung to it, shaking, her burned arm pressed against her chest.

He caught her before she fell, and kicked the door shut behind them.
In the dark, Emma held onto the stranger, who had just told her the impossible. Five minutes ago, she would have sworn vampires weren't real.

Her arm was still smoking.