Foul Is Fair

In the mirror I’m something from a 2AM movie about Catholic Schoolgirl vampires. Revenge-black hair, short and sharp; a face that says she’ll pull you to the dark side and you’ll love every second of it.

Killing someone hurts worse if somebody you love is holding the knife.

Sweet sixteen is when the claws come out.

We'll be the witches they don't believe in until it's too late.

New girl,” says Piper Morello now, Monday morning in the common hall with her sabre slivering the air into jagged little pieces. “Where’d you come from?” “Hell,” I say before I can stop myself.

She looks at the bruises on my neck and the scratches across my face, but she doesn't say anything. So I point at my hair, and I say, This color. Know what it's called? She shakes her head: No. I say, REVENGE. She says, Good Girl. Kill him.

I'm not just a girl anymore. Tonight I'm only cruelty. No pity. No mercy. No fear of what comes next. I bring the darkness close. It sifts smoky around me and clings to my skin. No one living and no one dead will. find my heart tonight.

We all grab hands and laugh together and then everyone, every charmed St Andrew’s Prepper is cheering for us and I know they see it- Just for a second- Our fangs and our claws.

You’re twisted for real,” she says. “Like, god-complex twisted. Sadistic-twisted. You came in here and you saw what they did to Connor and you thought, here are some people I can play some good fucking mind games with.

Mack, the honorable sellout. Strong--and ambitious-- and brave-- --but still so weak it turns my stomach.