I kept my eyes closed, but Blaque must have noticed I had come to. She kept telling me to never do that again, and that I had scared her. I, Freya, scare her? She doesn’t seem like the scaring type.

Chewy had come over to us and licked my cheek. This life—this year—this day--I had to somehow leave. I can’t stay here. I just can’t.

But I how can I leave Blaque—I can’t leave Chewy either! What about Karasu? What of him? Will he come back to look for me, or will he be away forever?

I had to get away to think.

I stood, and so did Blaque. I quietly explained that I had to leave, and she just hugged me, giving a slight kiss on the cheek. She told me that she understood that I had to be alone. Nodding, I then picked up Chewy and nuzzled him, handing him to Blaque, asking her to watch over him for a little.

I walked outside, the cool breeze slapping against my face. I was unknowing of the fact that I would never see them ever again. I wish I could have known then, what I know now. I would have changed so much...

I followed a path that ended in front of a small forest area. I didn’t know where it leads; I have never even seen it before. Unconsciously I walked in, and what I saw down that path was horrendous, and frightens me to this day...

About two hours or so down that way, I began seeing blood stains on the ground, a fire crackling somewhere, and the smell of burning flesh. As I veered closer to the source, I noticed a small pack of werewolves; maybe four or five at most. They were brutally consuming a being, “roasting” it over the flames.

But I didn’t notice them. Not at all.

What I noticed was the color of the hair that was strewn about, and the clothes—and then, the head—Karasu’s head. His eyes not even filled with fear--the same eyes I fell in love with. The same Karasu I fell in love with. Deteriorated, before my eyes. Gorged within these wolves’ bellies. If only I haven’t done what I did. Or hidden it well—this wouldn’t have happened.

I couldn’t hold back my screams.

I could tell they were all looking at me, but I was frozen to my spot. I wanted to die right there so badly, but the idea shook me. So I ran as if there were no tomorrow. There might not have been if they caught me...but I was too swift. I cheated death once again...

I found myself in front of a mausoleum. After breaking the lock I threw open the doors, and looked at the coffin that lay like an island in the middle of the dust-covered room. The scent of death and metal lingered in the air. All around there was gold and silver—valuables of all sorts. This must have been an aristocrats' tomb. I opened up the coffin and the stench smacked me in the face. I removed the body and buried it well.

In that coffin was where I lived out the next 215 years of my life; asleep.

Until I awoke again, in a time that I found most intriguing yet filled with more hate than my own. I opened up the coffin, which surprisingly, was never moved. I opened the mausoleum door and walked out of and into the dark of the night. Gravestones, half-broken, written on with satanic and pagan symbolisms—where was I? This was not the world I had left behind. Nothing was the same; nothing. Teens smoked nearby, and I asked there what year it was.

“What are you, a fucking idiot? It’s 2001!”

Apparently.