Things were looking up.

It had all started when he walked into history class. The last three hours stuck in the small building with shit-heads had boiled to the point he wanted to gouge his eyes out. That would have given them something to talk about. It was easier when they were gossiping and not when they openly stared at him. There wasn’t much he could do about it. Their stares were everywhere, running along his skin, piercing through him as if he wasn’t a being.

Like he was an animal only there for their entertainment. 

He sat in the back in the corner. By the time the second bell rang, he’d pulled out his textbook and was idly doodling in his notebook. The blank page stared back at him as if it too were waiting for the whispers to start. 

Mr. Kale walked in, slamming the door behind him. He was a thin tall man with a wispy mustache that didn’t help his aging features. He couldn’t have been older than Margret, yet he looked twice her age. His grim eyes looked around the room, taking in the kids still talking amongst themselves though it was evident he wasn’t in the mood for rowdiness.

Ren had dealt with Mr. Kale before. Living in such a small town meant elementary through high school were in the same building. It always meant Mr. Kale was completely done with each and every one of these kids’ attitude. 

It would have been sweet revenge if Ren wasn’t on the receiving end of Kale’s bad attitude too. And of course, the fact that he was half-vampire only made Kale hate him more. 

Kale cleared his throat. The sound and the hard look Kale sent the entirety of the room was ignored by everyone but Ren. He was used to it as used to it as Kale was himself. Yet, the man was always seeking the respect he knew he was never going to get from his students.

“Quiet.” Kale walked to the classroom board. The white contrasted against his pale red face. His eyes glared at the kids who couldn’t read the room.

The chatter rose.

“I said quiet!”

That caught their attention.

For only a second before the classroom door opened.

Regan Masters might have been sent straight from hell to torture Ren. He was a pale dirty blond who wore torn jeans, work boots, and a camo jacket everywhere he went. When he wasn’t smoking in the bathroom or slipping a drink from the bottle he kept in his almost empty backpack—which was no doubt was alcohol—he was starting trouble with anyone who would fight back. He wanted to rough any and everyone up. 

And he wanted them to try and rough him up in return.

Ren was an exception. Regan wanted to destroy him. He wanted to see Ren killed, burned, staked—it didn’t matter. As long as Ren was dead and gone Regan would be more than happy about it.

Regan snapped the gum he was chewing. He leaned against the door frame, grinning as all eyes in the room fell on him.

Ren fought back a grimace. Regan was undoubtedly an attention whore. 

To cement what Ren already believed to be true, Regan waltzed in, swaying side to side. He took his time to the first row of seats, but before he could get any further, Kale called out to him.

“Mr. Masters. Take a seat.”

Regan stopped. He blew a bubble and then snapped it out with his back molars. 

Kale didn’t miss a beat. He picked up the trashcan and walked up behind Regan.

“Spit it out and take a seat.” He tapped the side of the can to the desk in the front row.

Ren stabbed the tip of his pen into his notebook. The buzzing was coming back. The tension in the room called it to the surface. But the fight was done before it began. 

Kale turned away, giving Regan the chance to flip him off. Ren slumped further in his seat as if he was somehow involved in the embarrassing scene. He tried to close it off, close all his senses from what was happening in front of him. It only helped to hone in on the snickers echoing in the room. He was only somewhat relieved they weren't aimed at him. 

Kale ignored them all, his shoulders rigid as he cleaned the white board. He picked up the black erase marker and began to scribble things in haste. When he stepped back, Ren read the words.

He thought he was going to be sick.

Written in almost mocking capital letters was "HUMAN AND VAMPIRE WAR”.

The room fell into a hush. Of course, that was when they decided to act like civilized people. Always when Ren wanted them to get rowdy and to take his mind off all the dark thoughts going through his head. This was exactly the time for them to make stupid jokes and make him feel like he really wasn't there.

No. Instead, this had to happen. Every year they talked about this dumb war that had happened long ago and it was like they were doing it so they had a reason to stare and gawk at him. 

It's the same as it was every year. Since middle school, they'd gone deeper into the death, bloody details, and the rise of the new country. They glossed over the fact that there was an ongoing political battle with Sangui over who rightfully owned this land. Reginae would rather pretend they were safe with their victory. 

And that there weren't vampires by the border who were happy to start another war over some fucking dirt and grass.

Ren tuned out the parts that got Kale a little too excited. It was usually about how thousands of vampires were staked and burned alive by the Hunter Society. He didn't need to take notes. He'd memorized enough of this shit to write his own goddamn book.

But it was a tradition no one was complaining about. As he glanced around his classroom now, he saw how invested these kids were in the history of their ancestors. Victory was nothing to be ashamed of, not even if it meant innocent people suffered. He couldn't say it was exactly their fault. The government had omitted so many things, shut out polarizing facts, that it was hard to put together the full story.

And that was why Ren didn't care about changing their minds about vampires or informing them how Reginae had slaughtered vampire children because of prejudice.

It was hard to feel sympathy for someone when their main food source was you.

"In 1824, a man by the name Joseph Mantel led the vampire forces into the country once known as the United States. Can anyone tell me what this battle was?”

Ren almost snapped the tip of his pen he was pressing so hard into the page. It felt like the room was closing in on him. 

Everyone knew the name Mantel. It was a stain on this small town he vaguely called home. Everyone was raised with that name drilled into their heads. Ren knew it was tied to hate and disgust. Joseph Mantel represented all the bad things that existed in vampires. He killed with no mercy, drank the blood of the innocent, and his end goal was to enslave humans.

He'd failed in the end. The war hadn't lasted more than a decade before the hunter Society became so efficient at killing vampires that it turned into a sport. Whatever humans vampires could get their hands on were already taking drugs that polluted their bloodstream.

Six years after the first battle, vampires were either killed or sold for entertainment. It wasn’t rare to find vampire zoos, vampire side shows in circuses, or traveling vampire freak shows.

Kale walked to the front row. His eyes slowly scanned the room. Ren kept his eyes lowered, praying over and over that Kale would leave him alone. 

This was why he skipped all the time. Was there anything he needed to learn from these people? He would be far away from this town and all these useless facts would be a distant memory.

But the teasing and humiliation was going to follow him. He already knew the jabs, ridicule, and hate he had to deal with when he stepped into town was the only thing he carried home with him. 

He imagined he was home. His mom would get off work from Montis Medical Research and Hospice, dead on her feet, but a smile stretched across her face. They'd cook together, talk about their days as if either of them had fully enjoyed it, and then they would talk about what they were going to do when things finally changed.

A new house, a new town, and a new life.

That was all they were working for. When they got it, that was when they could start living.

They never talked about the war and they never mentioned Mantel.

Kale tapped the end of the marker on Regan's desk. Regan feigned obliviousness, flicking at the invisible lent on his jacket. 

"It was the battle of Judgement." Kale gave up, moving back to the safety of his desk. "Mantel and his men forced their way through the American border, slaughtering thousands. When he was finally captured, he was burned at the stake.”

The class rustled.

Ren could feel his heartbeat in his throat. He had to fight to swallow. An ache formed at the pit of his stomach and along came the buzzing once more. 

As much as he liked to believe he could be a better person than what everyone thought he was, he was afraid it wouldn't be long before the buzzing became bloodlust.

And from there, he would truly be the monster they all thought he was.