CHAPTER ONE
PANIC

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     The woman's name was Kendra White.

She had lived inside the same house for as long as Rowan could remember. She could remember walking down the street in middle school with Elena and Bonnie and seeing the kind middle-aged woman bent over her garden. She had always smiled at them, and during the summer, she would invite Rowan and her friends inside for lemonade. It came to a stop their freshmen year of high school, when Kendra White started having health problems. She lived alone, but her daughter often came by every morning to check on her.

That kind woman was dead, and Rowan felt numb.

She was sitting with her back against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest. The front of her shirt was soaked with blood. The blood on her neck had already dried, but she barely noticed the irritation on her skin. Even more blood was smeared across her mouth, but she didn't notice that, either. She couldn't stop staring at the body laid out on the floor. Kendra's eyes were empty, staring up at the ceiling. Rowan remembered being handed a knife, remembered being ordered to bring it to her own throat. When she had woken up, Kendra was already dead. Rowan hadn't even had a chance to process what she was seeing before the woman—Katherine—forced her head down onto the dead woman's throat. Forced her to drink the blood still bubbling up from the wound.

There was so much blood.

Rowan couldn't quite come to terms with what had happened. It all seemed like a very bad dream. She would have thought it was just that if it hadn't been for the sun. Each time she tried to move from her spot in the shadows, her skin burned where the sun touched. She wanted so desperately to leave, but she couldn't, not with the sun out.

She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against her knees.

Maybe she was hallucinating. Maybe she had actually lost her mind, and was now imagining things that weren't there. Had she made up Katherine? She looked exactly like Elena, after all. Had she imagined all those nights Katherine got to her and ordered her to tell her all of Elena's secrets? Had she imagined it when Katherine forced her to drink her blood, then told her to forget? Rowan clasped her hands on either side of her head, a choked sob escaping her throat. She didn't know what was more terrifying. The fact that all of this could be fake, or the fact that all of it was real. If it was fake, she could get help, get medication. If it was real, she had just been forced to turn into a monster.

Her hands tightened around her head, and another sound left her mouth. This one was louder, more panicked, like a scream through clenched teeth. She knew she needed to get up, to go into the bathroom and at least attempt to clean herself. If someone came, it would look like she had murdered Kendra White. She hadn't murdered Kendra White. Katherine had. The only person Rowan had killed was herself.

Another panicked sound left her mouth at the thought. She could still feel the kiss of the blade against her throat, could still feel the stinging pain and then the blood flooding her airways. She remembered trying to stop herself from doing it, stop herself from doing what Katherine had wanted, but it hadn't worked. The entire time, Katherine had watched, an amused smile on her face. Memories were clouding her thoughts. She remembered the first time she had met Katherine: Her parents had invited her in, believing her to be Elena, and Rowan had walked into her room to see someone with Elena's face sitting on her bed. She had known immediately, despite the straight hair and stolen clothes, that it hadn't been Elena. Elena had never looked at her like that before, like Rowan was a toy she just couldn't wait to play with.

Katherine had been annoyed, Rowan remembered that now. She said it was annoying that Elena had given vervain to all her friends, then proceeded to rip the bracelet from Rowan's wrist. She had been ordered not to put it back on, and Rowan hadn't. It now rested inside of a small jewelry box on Rowan's vanity. She wished she had it now, though she didn't know why. She didn't know what vervain was, and it was probably too late to help her.

Katherine had left the second veins started sprouting up beneath Rowan's eyes. Rowan had asked her why before she stepped outside, in the sun she didn't seem to have a problem walking in. Katherine had laughed.

"I was bored," she had said.

Rowan clenched her teeth and dug her fingers into her hair, hard against her scalp, like she could claw through with her bare hands and pick the awful memories out of it. Logically, she knew what type of monster she was. She drank blood, she had felt the sharpened teeth cut her bottom lip, she burned in the sun—there was only one monster she could possibly be. She couldn't think the word without panicking even more.

She scrambled to her feet, not even noticing when the sun burned her skin as she raced across the room. She slammed into the bathroom counter, then slipped and caught herself on the edge of the bathtub. She didn't have enough time to turn toward the toilet. She bent over the edge of the bathtub and puked. Nothing but blood came out, and it just made her crumple into a ball beside the tub, bringing her knees up to her chest.

"This isn't happening," she whispered, eyes filling with tears. She didn't notice when they spilled over. "This can't be happening." She ducked her head and buried her face into her knees, getting to work at regulating her breathing. She needed to calm down, needed to get on her feet and clean herself up. One step at a time. She needed to go about this one step at a time. Otherwise she would get overwhelmed and end up on the floor again.

Sucking in another shaky breath, she released it slowly and climbed to her feet, using the side of the tub to pull herself up. She stumbled to the sink. She only looked in the mirror once before she was quickly looking away, jerking the mirror cabinet open so she wouldn't have to look at herself, at the blood smeared around her mouth. She fumbled for a hand towel beneath the sink and got to work cleaning the blood off herself. She had to peel her shirt away from her skin. She wadded it into a ball and set it aside, scrubbing at her skin until it was clean. She shoved her dirty shirt into a plastic bag as she left the bedroom. She only stopped long enough to grab her purse before she locked herself inside the main bedroom. She didn't want to see Kendra White's body anymore. She didn't even want to think about it. About anything.

So instead of coming to terms with what had happened to her, Rowan decided to pull out her phone. She briefly considered calling the police, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get out of that situation. So instead of doing that, she checked all of her messages as she pulled an oversized cardigan over her torso and curled up into a rocking chair in the corner of the room. She had ten text messages, all of her friends asking her where she was. Half of them ended up calling hours later—Tyler, Matt, and Bonnie—and had ended up leaving concerned voicemails. Rowan's heart jumped into her throat. Rowan dying hadn't been the only thing to happen the night before. The mayor of the town had died in a freak accidental fire, his memorial was today, and Caroline was in the hospital after getting into a car accident.

She set her phone aside when she was done and put her face into her hands. She wanted to go visit Caroline and make sure she was okay. She wanted to go to that memorial and be there for Tyler. But she couldn't. Not unless she wanted to burn to death in the sun. She felt sick, and the ongoing silence wasn't helping.

Which was why, the next time her phone started ringing, she actually brought herself to answer it.

"Hello?" she whispered, wincing at how small she sounded. Rowan never sounded small. She had made sure of that before.

"Where have you been?" Matt immediately demanded. Rowan cocked her head to the side, eyebrows furrowing. She could hear things on the other end of the line: people talking, Matt's footsteps against marble floors, the sound of cars coming to a halt outside. Goosebumps rose on her skin when she realized how enhanced her senses were. She hadn't noticed in the silence of the house. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?" Rowan opened her mouth, then closed it, scrambling for an excuse. There was no way she could tell him the truth.

"I-I'm not feeling well," she stammered, wincing immediately. Matt was going to see right through that. And he did.

"Rowan, Caroline's in the hospital," Matt pushed. Rowan bit into her bottom lip, wincing again. "Tyler's dad is dead. Where the hell are you?"

"I told you, I'm not feeling well," Rowan said, hardening her voice. "I just got around to checking my messages."

"Mayor Lockwood's wake is this afternoon. At least tell me you're going to that." Rowan's mouth twisted. She cast a look toward the windows, where she could see sunlight streaming past the edges of the curtains. She thought over her words very carefully before she decided on going the same route she'd been on before. If Matt thought she was being a bitch, then she might as well be a bitch.

So she scoffed and said, "Yeah, I'll think I'll pass." There was a beat of silence afterward, and Rowan felt a pang go through her chest. She could only imagine what was going through Matt's mind in that moment. She and Matt used to be incredibly close—until he started dating Elena. For some reason she still didn't understand, she couldn't stand being around him after that. Being around them. And even though the two had broken months ago, Rowan and Matt's relationship had never regained its closeness. Now all Rowan had was Tyler and Bonnie.

Or only Bonnie now, since Rowan was about to abandon Tyler during such an awful time, even if she didn't really have a choice in the matter.

"Jesus, Rowan, are you serious?" Matt demanded finally. Rowan winced. "You can't drop that whole bitchy façade for one day?" Rowan chewed on her bottom lip.

"It's not a façade, Matt—"

"Sure, right," Matt agreed sarcastically, sounding angrier than before. "You totally don't care about anyone or anything, right? Or you just can't show it in front of people?" Rowan swallowed the scathing words starting to climb up her throat. It wouldn't do anyone any good if she snapped at Matt. He knew she was lying about being sick, and Tyler's father had just died. Rowan was being the bad friend here, not Matt. The thought made her feel even worse.

"I don't feel well," she repeated, her voice sounding like it was coming from very far away.

"Right, okay." Matt let out a strangled laugh. Rowan flinched at the sound. Matt was silent for a long time, thinking. Eventually, he said, "I'll tell Caroline you dropped by at the hospital when she was asleep." Rowan didn't miss the jab, and she flinched again, sucking in a sharp breath. She had to keep reminding herself that none of this was her fault, but it was hard to believe when Matt sounded so disgusted with her.

"It's not like I don't care, Matt," she forced out through clenched teeth. "I'm telling the truth. Something's wrong with me." That wasn't a lie, at least.

"I can tell when you're lying, Rowan," Matt said, though he sounded less harsh now. Like he had finally caught on to the panic in Rowan's voice. "You're horrible at it."

Rowan's temper spiked. "And how would you know?" she snapped. "I'm always honest, to the point where I'm brutal when I tell the truth. So tell me, Matt, how could you possibly know how bad of a liar I am when I never lie?"

"Because the way you sound when you lie is the same way you sound when you say you hate Elena." Those words hit her like a blow in the chest, all of the air rushing out of her lungs within a second. For a split second, she felt nothing but a blinding, overwhelming panic. Her heart kick-started in her chest, beating so fast she thought it would burst out of her skin. Her hand, now shaking, tightened around her cellphone. It took her a moment to collect herself, and when she did, her voice came out sharp and quick.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she demanded. Her voice was like it was the night before: brutal, harsh, unforgiving. This was the Rowan everyone was used to. Matt paused when he heard her voice, probably startled by the amount of venom in it.

"Nothing," Matt said at last, sounding bewildered. "I just meant you don't hate Elena. Just like you don't actually hate Caroline. You just say you do." Rowan didn't respond. Her face felt too hot. She felt foolish. She didn't even know why she panicked so badly, why she reacted in such a way. "Rowan, what the hell is wrong with you? First you disappear, then you refuse to visit Caroline and Tyler, and now this? It's not just today, either. You've been acting weird ever since the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant."

Rowan closed her eyes tightly and immediately saw memories from the pageant. The first thing that came to her mind was Elena. Elena, with her hair pulled back and curled. Elena, with her blue dress and sad face because it had always been her mother obsessed with that pageant, not her. Elena, dancing with Damon because Stefan was nowhere to be seen. Then she remembered something else, something that sent a chill down her spine.

That was the first night Katherine came to her.

"Just go back to your control-freak of a girlfriend, Matt," Rowan whispered, voice cold as ice. She twisted her lips and made her voice sickly sweet when she added, "Give her all my love."

Then she ended the call and jerked her head back against the back of the rocking chair. It made a sharp crack, and Rowan winced. The chair was made of wood. It made her wonder if wood could actually be used against creatures like her. So far, the blood-drinking and the fangs and burning in the sun were true. The thing about crosses wasn't, though. She could see one now, hanging on the wall in Kendra's bedroom. It made a ball form in her throat. To distract herself, she pulled her phone back up and quickly clicked on the first contact she came across that didn't make her groan or roll her eyes.

"Where are you?" was how Tyler answered. Rowan scoffed and played with a frayed piece of her jeans.

"Hello to you, too," she greeted, making her voice sound cheerful. It was easier than it should have been. Faking smiles came as easy to her as breathing.

Never mind the fact that sometimes breathing was hard for her, too.

"I'm at home," Rowan continued when Tyler didn't respond. "Jesus Christ, why is everyone so clingy today? I don't feel well and I'm at home."

"That's funny." Tyler didn't sound like he was laughing. "Because I called and your mom said you didn't come home last night." Rowan narrowed her eyes. Part of her wondered if her mother was even concerned, but then she dismissed the thought. Her parents were used to her coming and going. She had a habit of staying over at her friends without telling her parents, and her parents had long since stopped getting worried. When she didn't speak for a long time, Tyler heaved an exasperated sigh. "Seriously, Ro, what the fuck? I get you were pissed last night, but you don't usually run off like this. And you definitely don't ignore calls or texts. Your phone is practically glued to your hand."

"I called to give my condolences," Rowan said, annoyed, "not to get a fucking lecture."

"I'm just worried about you," Tyler argued. Of course he was. Leave it to Tyler to be concerned about someone else when his father just died. Everyone else thought he was some heartless jock who didn't care about anyone else, but Rowan knew that wasn't true. They grew up together; Rowan practically moved in with the Lockwoods when her parents almost got a divorce because they couldn't stop fighting when she was twelve.

Rowan pursed her lips and said, "Shocking. Tyler Lockwood actually cares about someone other than himself. Truly, headline worthy." There was a beat of silence.

"I know what you're doing," Tyler said after a moment, voice hard, "and it's not going to work."

"Your dad is dead, Tyler," Rowan said bluntly. "Focus on grieving, not on me. I'm fine."

"My dad was a dick," Tyler said just as bluntly. Rowan shrugged even though he couldn't see her.

"Yeah, he was," she agreed. "That doesn't mean it's not sad. You know, in a small town everyone-knows-everyone kind of way." Tyler actually laughed at that.

"Bitch," he said. Coming from him, it was less of an insult and more of a term of affection. Rowan snorted.

"Good," she said. "Things are going back to normal. Anyway, I won't be able to make it to the wake. Like I said. Not feeling well."

"You're lying." Unlike Matt, Tyler didn't sound angry. "First you tell me you can't remember things, then you don't come home, and now you've just disappeared. Did something happen?"

"Yeah," Rowan said, voice flat now. Emotionless. He was getting too close for comfort. She was afraid if he asked the right question, she would break down and reveal everything. The last thing she needed was people thinking she was insane. "I got sick."

"Rowan—"

She hung up.

And then she spent the night there, having nowhere else to go, and not wanting to move anyway.

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The sun was going down the next day when Rowan heard the screaming.

She flew from the rocking chair and ran into the living room. A woman in her twenties was standing over Kendra's body. Her screams hurt Rowan's ears. She didn't think about what she was doing. She moved purely on instinct. She was in front of the woman faster than should have been possible, and then she was slamming the woman into the wall, slapping a hand over her mouth.

"Shut up!" she screamed, panicked. She didn't know what to do. All she knew was that she had to stop the screaming before a neighbor heard and called the police. "Stop screaming!" The woman didn't stop. She continued to scream even with Rowan's hand muffling the sound, eyes wide and terrified and full of tears. Rowan couldn't look away from them. "I said to stop screaming! Shut up!"

Just like that, the woman stopped screaming.

Rowan slowly removed her hand, confused. The woman had a dazed look on her face. She was staring at Rowan with a blank expression. A few seconds later, the blank expression disappeared, and she reverted back to looking terrified.

But she didn't scream.

In fact, she didn't even make a sound.

Rowan wasn't focusing on that. She was focusing on something else. There was a loud thumping sound, a smell that enticed her. Her eyes fell to the side of the woman's neck. Her mouth watered even as tears sprung in her eyes. She choked back a sob.

"I'm—I'm so sorry," was all she managed to gasp out.

The woman didn't scream when Rowan's fangs ripped her neck apart.

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