In an attempt to find the dog that Savannah had claimed was real— and hers—I had knocked on every door inside the gates. While plenty of people had seen the dog, no one claimed to own it. This didn't deter Savannah though. According to her, the dog had started visiting her quite frequently. I still wasn't completely convinced it was real. But real or imaginary it gave her a friend that was a million times better at consoling her than I was.

My mom had befriended Ethan's dad after helping with the funeral arrangements. It had been a lovely closed-casket ceremony that bittered me with an unresolved longing. I would never see his face again. Dutifully, I had managed to withhold my tears until I returned home to comfort myself in solitude. Away from prying eyes and gossipmongers.

High school had come and gone, and my first college semester was starting in less than two weeks. Ethan's death had come so near to graduation that skipping out on the last weeks hadn't hurt my academic record. While my mother hadn't pressed for me to walk at graduation, she had signed me up for several courses at the nearest community college. After spending the summer wallowing in a pit of despair, I was ready for school to start. I needed every distraction I could get. Even if I would be all alone. Maybe especially because I would be all alone. Somewhere that didn't remind me of Ethan.

Most of my friends had moved away for college. And most had stopped trying to involve me in the real world. Popularity meant nothing after high school. Not that I wanted it anymore. I was tired of the façade. Day after day, I felt my mask crumble away as I hid in my room. I felt both free and lifeless.

Maeve took it upon themself to stave off my increasing insanity. They convinced me that a trip to the city was just what the doctor ordered. The city was an exciting and intoxicating place for a soon to be college girl like myself. Or so Maeve reminded me.

My mother had deduced that my loneliness had caused depression. She was quick to fund our trip. I could easily debate that my depression had caused the loneliness. It was by choice that I refused to see Eric when he had come by every day without fail. His visits only ceased when he'd left to visit his mother. I had no loyalty or obligations for friendship. I didn't owe anyone anything. Not with Ethan gone. Not with my façade gone, leaving me naked and vulnerable to the world.

After some convincing words from my mother, Maeve and I borrowed her much newer car and headed to the city. Unfortunately, the three-hour drive was endless as I wasn't very good company. Occasionally, a song that reminded me of Ethan would come on the radio. My background wails and sobs tarnishing every chorus. By the time we arrived at our hotel, I was red eyed with a swollen tongue and a sore throat. It took everything in me to clear my face of grief while Maeve checked in.

When we got to our room, Maeve eagerly threw open the door. "I'm so excited! We're going to go all out to make up for missing your birthday!" They exclaimed while twirling through the room, slinging their bag onto the bed.

Just had to go and say it. I had hoped Maeve forgot about my birthday. The painful reminder that time would go on without Ethan.

"Let's not mention my birthday." I avoided eye contact, afraid to see any judgment. Something I found myself doing more and more these days. "And I don't wanna go by Ginger anymore. Actually, I don't even wanna be Lyric," nothing Ethan had ever called me.

Maeve raised an eyebrow at me, "So, like what? You wanna be Princess Banana Hammick or something? Fine." They shrugged.

"I just want things to be different while I'm here. I really need a break from me," I sighed, absently pulling at a loose string on my sleeve. "What do you think of going back to Ricky? For old time's sake?" It was a nickname I'd had my whole life. Up until nine months ago. Nine months I wanted to erase, if only for today.

Maeve had a way of keeping me from feeling guilty for wanting such things. Our friendship was unique. Or maybe it was just Maeve. They knew I was sad. Of course. And yet they never needed to ask any deep probing questions. I knew asking to call me by my old nickname wouldn't be a problem. It could've been that Maeve was just overly perceptive. Or maybe because they just didn't care for things that weren't pleasant or fun. Whatever it was, I could breathe a little easier with them by my side.

"Sure. Probably a little easier to remember than Banana Hammock anyway," Maeve cackled wildly. "Whatever you want birthday girl!"

I groaned at the possibilities in store.

The preparations began with a makeover. Maeve straightened my frizzy curls, revealing just how long my hair had grown down my back, and then laid full artistic flare into my makeup. An effortless smokey cat-eye for my eyeshadow complete with winged eyeliner, making my honey-gold eyes appear to be an almost electric yellow. Through some coercion, I donned a short black pleather dress over fishnet stockings that Maeve picked out special for my birthday. They had no qualms in reminding me how lucky I was that I got to keep my boots on since they matched the aesthetic. The preferable option, according to Maeve, had been heels. By the time we finished, I was some version of Ricky, the girl who had never known Ethan. And I was ready to forget anything and everything else.

Downtown, bands played left and right and raging parties that spilled out onto the street were twice as common. Our first stop was a filthy punk-rock band playing in an alley that smelled like fresh garbage and pee. I watched in awe as the mosh-pit grew in both size and violence by the second. It promised injuries aplenty. I craved a tangible feeling to drown out everything else. I threw myself in, ready to come out with a bloody nose and more. Unfortunately, I was not so lucky. Being a rather fragile looking girl, fellow moshers took it upon themselves to avoid crushing me. It was frustrating beyond belief.

"I've had it!" I grabbed Maeve's arm and pulled them away from a girl covered in tattoos and piercings.

"What's the big, shorty?" Maeve followed after me as I stomped down the street.

I didn't want to tell them the crushing weight of loss was creeping up on me when all I'd wanted was to feel pain instead. How do people survive death? There's nothing here! Nothing! A bladed tornado was tearing through my chest, shredding apart everything Ethan had left behind. This is too much! I struggled to breathe, feeling the suffocating weight of the world on my lungs. It was squeezing in, crushing me with claustrophobia. Distracted, I tripped on the sidewalk. I can't do this. The cement refused to break my skin as my hands and knees collided with the rough surface. I clutched at my chest, my breath wheezing.

"Whoa, babes, are you okay?" Maeve placed a hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off.

"Yeah, totes," I mockingly answered, struggling to stand on my own.

"Lyric, hey, look at me," they demanded, but I refused. "Everything happens for a reason," they began.

If I have to hear that ridiculous line of comfort vomit one more time . . .

I continued to avoid making eye contact, "I told you to call me Ricky." It was silent. My face felt pale with guilt as I waited for them to say something. When Maeve didn't speak, I shrugged again, trying to shake off just how desperate I felt. "It's been a long day and I just want to enjoy myself for my birthday. That show was lame. Let's go to a real party." I risked a quick glance up.

Maeve's eyebrows had been raised and mouth slack open, but the look of shock faded quickly and became a cool smile. "Ready to get drunk and hold each other's hair back when we inevitably harf it all up later?"

"You betcha!" I grinned.

We brushed off the awkward moment and quickly found a flourishing party in a crammed little house that reeked of cologne and incense. Glass bottles of varying alcohol content littered nearly every surface accompanied by little red plastic cups. I didn't hesitate recklessly pouring myself a drink of a mystery liquid in a giant punchbowl. It puckered my lips and electrified my body. The more I drank, the easier it went down. I mingled with strangers, pretending to be a social butterfly, as Maeve watched on with increasing glee. It was fun and intoxicating to lie to every new face. Introducing myself as Ricky, the college student with a passion for the violin and beekeeping. The more I drank, the easier life was getting.

The world around me was a comforting buzz of dimming sobriety. Seeing as the party showed no signs of winding down, I settled in a cozy spot on the couch. Nestling between a passed out drunk and a psych student, my next drink in hand. Although I was sure the psych student had told me his name, I was also quite certain I didn't care to remember it. He smelled like clove cigarettes and heavily fermented hops. He was interesting enough and handsome enough too, but I just didn't care.

"So, your name's Ricky? Don't tell me it's short for Richard," he said with a sly smile.

"You guessed it," I answered, sipping contently at my increasingly delicious drink.

"Is there something you wanna tell me, Richard?" He asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly. "Are you secretly a man?"

"Why? It's not like my name's Lola. La, la, la, la, Lola," I sang. "Did you know Lola will make you a man?" I chortled. The alcohol was making my cheeks blush with heat. I should definitely be more embarrassed that I just sang to a complete stranger. But I wasn't.

He laughed and looked me up and down curiously. Even with my thick disguise, I was sure he could see I was hiding something. Nonetheless, he must have found the mystery intriguing because he moved his hand from his lap to my knee. My stomach twisted and my eyes tightened for a brief second while I struggled to stay firmly planted. A fake smile on my lips.

Strangers didn't know what I had suffered. Strangers wouldn't look at me with pity. They were all I had. I couldn't push them away, not when they were my only hope to forget. I gulped at my drink for comfort. Ricky was an open person with little to no personal space. Ricky was a social butterfly. Ricky loved attention. I was Ricky.

"So, do you live on campus?" The hidden meaning in his question was not lost on me.

My head swam from the inebriation setting in. I hadn't thought anyone would ask me where I lived and hadn't made up an adequate lie yet. "Yep," I answered hazily.

"Oh, did you walk here?" He asked nonchalantly, bringing a red plastic cup to his lips.

I hesitated, suddenly nervous. "Yep," was yet again all I could bring myself to say.

His smile deepened, twisting into something wicked and sickening, "Are you going to be responsible to walk the drunk mess you came with home?" He nodded in the direction Maeve stood. "Or do you get to stay out a bit longer so we can get to know each other better?"

My fight or flight reflexes edged closer to the surface. The only thing keeping me from leaving was the temptation to play the game. "Well, that depends."

He arched an eyebrow, "On what?"

"How late do you plan on keeping me up?" I did my best to pout at the idea of staying up too late and losing sleep. The truth was that sleep had become exhausting since Ethan's death. It seemed as if it was all I ever did.

"I might have to keep you up all night, getting to know you better and all," he smirked and rubbed my leg with the hand he'd left there.

I pouted even deeper. "It's not very good for me to be out after dawn," I teased.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"It's no good for my skin complexion," I flashed a crooked smile, my lips numb from the excessive drinking.

His chuckle reverberated throughout his body, splashing the drink he still held. "Why? Are you a vampire or something?"

"Maybe."

"Are you going to bite me?" He taunted, a masochistic glint in his eye.

"Maybe," I answered more pointedly.

"Should I be afraid of you, Ricky?" He asked in a mocking tone.

My smile wavered; my face settling into its naturally serious tone. "Yes," I assured. I don't think I'd meant to mean it. The sudden thought of my father weighed heavily on my mind. It caused my answer to be more severe than I had intended. Wherever he was, he should fear who I had become. If he ever came back, I would make sure he couldn't hurt the only people I had left in my life. Alcohol wasn't being my friend anymore; it was making me remember.

Perhaps the way my face had fallen so serious was truly frightening. The psych student flashed a look of slight hesitation and scoffed, "Vampires aren't real. You know people who identify with the myth of the vampire are really just people driven by pleasure. They're just hedonists that want to ignore society's rules. They would do anything for pleasure, even kill. Are you a hedonist, Ricky? Do you want to kill me?" For pleasure, I could read the words he didn't say on his face. He frothed with excitement and desire. And fear.

The stench of it pulled me from my thoughts. "I was thinking of just sucking you bone dry," I slurred and gave him my spookiest laugh. Still very much drunk.

"My bone? Huh?" The smile spread across his entire face.

My game was over. I stood and stretched.

"Hey! Don't leave! I'm sorry, I'll keep it PG, I promise!"

I downed the rest of my drink and swayed out of his reach when he tried to grab for me as I turned and left.

The house was bigger inside than I'd anticipated, but finding Maeve was all too easy. There was always a flock of enamored victims surrounding them. They had a very charismatic allure, easily approachable despite the choice of attire. The gothic thing never seemed to put anyone off. I paused a room away, watching. The way Maeve flirted was passionate and effortless. As if they loved whatever soul stood before them with all their heart. But as if walking away from them wouldn't break it, even if it were breaking their next victim's. Maeve was intense and not even I was immune to the way they could make the blood boil in my veins.

"Pretty thing, isn't she?"

I was startled from my thoughts by a girl in a strapless, olive-green dress. It ended just above her knees, as did her dark brunette hair that flowed like smooth waves on a gentle sea. Her eyes were the most distracting of all her beauty. Piercing dark blue that burst into my soul, even though I was sure I'd locked the doors. She lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and smiled, waiting for my delayed response.

"Pretty interesting, that's for sure," I mumbled, still captivated by this girl who barely looked my age but held a confidence I would never possess. An overwhelming sensation made my body temperature rise. It was silly but I hated her. The feeling built quickly inside of me as if it was only natural. At the same time, her smell was so delicious it put a smile on my face. Why does it smell good enough to eat? I pondered her scent.

Her lips parted as if to say something. My eyes widened at the perfection and fullness of them, I would cling to every word they spoke. "Have you seen her boyfriend around? I don't think he would be too keen to stumble upon all these boys at her feet."

My head spun a little. She'd taken a step closer to talk and her breath had put a sweet tingling sensation in my mouth. Like berries laced with something sharp and almost toxic, like venom. That's it! Strawberries. I couldn't help but let my jaw drop as I wondered if her blood tasted as sweet as she smelled. I licked my lips. The taste of blood had never crossed my mind before. Had it?

She smiled and laughed, a little unsure about me. "It's just that I keep hearing about this Ricky she's with. Boy is the shit going to hit the fan when he finds her like this," she tossed her head in Maeve's direction.

Something she'd said snapped me out of her spell. The alcohol was starting to sink its full weight into me, causing me to laugh so hard I snorted a few times. Embarrassing as it was, I was still too full of giggles to respond right away.

The girl's eyes widened with surprise and amusement at my uncontrollable chortles. "I'm sorry, I must have missed something."

"No," I gasped. "No." The giggles continued, and I struggled to speak around them. "No! It's just that Ricky—" My eyes closed with how painful the laughing had become as tears clouded my vision. "Well, you see, Ricky isn't with Maeve, not in that way at least."

"So, there's no jealous boyfriend about to bust up the worshiping?"

"Not exactly." I'd finally calmed, still holding a wide grin on my face.

Her eyes tensed into a perplexed glare at my reaction and vague answers. "But Ricky is here, isn't he?"

"Ricky's here alright." I wasn't ready to let this girl in on the joke just yet. Not when she seemed so invested in who Maeve was with. I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow, "Why are you so worried about Ricky, anyway?"

The girl's eyes had drifted over to Maeve, but my question made them snap back onto me, "No reason. Just love a bit of hot goss' is all."

I wasn't sure why, but the look in her eye made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"I have to go find my boyfriend," she suddenly announced. "You know how boys are." She smiled but it didn't touch her eyes, "I better find him before he starts trying to drink somebody under the table." She purred a velvety laugh and winked at me. As she passed by, she flashed a toothy smile and touched my arm. My spine stiffened at her unsettling touch. "Goodnight, little wolf," she whispered.

Little wolf?

I watched her meander through the crowd until I could no longer see her through the sea of bodies in the next room. My thoughts muddled and I could only manage to stare into oblivion. Replaying our conversation.

Little Wolf. Ethan used to tease me for having wolf eyes and I wondered if that was what the girl was referring to. Maybe the term was more common than I thought for someone with gold eyes like mine. A stinging pain plucked at my heart as memories of Ethan flooded back.

"Hey space cadet," Maeve slurred, drunkenly skipping to my side. "Enjoying your trip to Saturn, Ricky?" They giggled.

Confusion was hitting hard, making me unreasonably paranoid. Or maybe it was the alcohol. "I think we should leave now."

"I don't wanna go!" Maeve whined. "This party's too fun! I wanna stay here for-ever!" They laughed, collapsing at my feet in a giggling heap. It was definitely time to go before I would literally have to carry the drunken mess home.

"Come on. There's a comfy bed in it for you," I mumbled as I helped them stand and walk out the door.

"Oh, I forgot!" Maeve exclamation startled me, "I gotta pee." They dashed back through the party, leaving me numb and waiting for their return.

Moments ago I had imagined what it would be like to taste someone's blood. I was losing my mind. That beautiful and frightening girl had smelled so sweet. It was like something I had long forgotten and wished for, but couldn't place. I had to be drunk, or was I sobering up? Maybe I was just tired.

Like a ghost, Maeve abruptly appeared behind me. I would have been more startled had I not realized that in their absence I'd been holding onto the worn doorframe. The wood had fought back, leaving a splinter that pierced my palm. I bit at it, trying to remove it from my skin, as Maeve and I proceeded to walk, and stumble along our way back to the hotel. Two blocks later their perplexed face caught my attention. After a struggle I managed to stop Maeve mid-stride, and held them upright at arm's length in front of me.

The quizzical vacancy held for a full minute before Maeve's eyes settled on my own. "Oh, now you look me in the eye," they drunkenly stirred from under weighted eyelids. "He's dead, Gingy. In the ground. Dead and buried. Honestly, you have to move on."

A dull buzzing sound attempted to surface but it was overpowered by shock. It hit me with a slap that immediately sobered me, and I reflexively shoved Maeve to the ground.

How could she? No! No! No! I trembled with horror as the floodgates broke.

All the memories of Ethan came back in a terrible flurry, and I didn't want them. I just wanted to get away from them. So I ran, not sure if Maeve would follow in their stupor. My eyes blurred with tears. Leaving me blind and with no clue where my feet would lead me.

And then I was in the cemetery.