Frightened and pale, Keanna looks up at me from under the covers of her bed. She appears to be shaking and a crackling metal bubble sits beside her. Her voice struggles as she tries to speak, but each breath is separated into a sigh. 

"B, I - I'm s-so sorry." She struggles to sit up straight in her bed, so I rush to her side to help her up, she adjusts her posture to hit the headboard. Her eyes are red with tears. Her lips quiver as she finds her breath. She then pulls me in by my shoulders. Her tears soak into my tank-top. "They threatened to send you out there if I didn't sign up." 

"Kee," I say. I caress her shoulder as her stuttering breath takes over with the heavy breathing. It's louder than my own heartbeat. For a moment, I feel myself counting to ten as I wait for the world to slow down and let rhyme and reason take over. When, that doesn't work, I try another method. "Kee, you have nothing to apologize for. It wasn't your fault." 

"When I tried to fight back, they implanted a chip - " she motions down to the metallic bubble with wires sticking out from four sides - "into my neck and made me sign the paperwork." A sigh escapes in a now steady breath. "Now I have no option but to follow through. I'm sorry." She holds on tighter than usual. "I'm sorry I lashed out on you for no reason." 

There's  the Keanna I know and love. The girl who feels bad for even giving the slightest of negative influence on those she cares about. The best friend who makes the whole world a huge ray of sunshine when she's around me. 

"But we still have until Sunday to achieve everything on our BFF bucket list," she changes the subject. A smile lights up on my face. When we were in fourth grade, Keanna and I made this long list of goals we wanted pursue in our lifespan while being best friends. Her and I came up with the craziest of ideas, one of which was spend the night in the library. We tried that once, but the librarian closing all the doors was not too fond of our idea, I quite keenly recall. "Most are ridiculous and impossible, so let's skip to a reasonable goal. Number forty-three: go to a formal dance together." 

I cannot reiterate the fact that I ditched Homecoming and Prom enough.  

"There's a dance a Sunday," she points out with a look of joy on her face. I know that means she has this elaborate plan plotting itself out inside that active mind of her, no matter how far it goes off to get to the point of leaving her mouth in the form of uttered syllables. "We should go before I leave at eight." She squeals with delight knowing she can put her plan into action. "I already have our dresses picked out, and make up. We're gonna be the nicest looking girls there." 

From what it seems, her and her plans can go on all night. Maybe it does, because when I wake up, I'm on the floor beside her bed and she's still going at it. "... maybe some corsages and sash with "Girl Power" encrypted in faux crystals." 

"How long have you been up," I ask warily as I pull myself up to my feet and dust myself off. The hustle of the morning rush seems to have already begun. I have to give it to them. Routine never gets old. 

"All night," she chimes, chipper as usual. Her eyes then go wide as saucers, but with halos inside of them. She's then up on her feet pulling her armor on over her night tee and dusts off her jeans. "Oh lord, we're late for breakfast. Let's get a move on." 

"You go ahead to breakfast and I'll make my way back to my cubicle," I say and make my way to the door. My hand is on the doorjamb when I look back at her and add, "I just need to catch up on a little sleep. But be sure to grab a donut for me." I then retreat down the now empty hallways and break into a run to the end of the hallway. 

As I approach the door of my cubicle, I look down to see a cream piece of loose leaf paper folded to perfection in three sections. I lean over to pick it up and unfolded as it's close to my chest. Three other pieces of loose-leaf fall to the floor. Thank goodness for the page numbers at the top-right corner of the paper, I'm able to put the sheets in order. 

I make my way over to my bed and begin reading the letter. The words are written in perfect calligraphy.

Beatrice,

I don't even need to retreat to the last page to find out that it's Athan who wrote this letter. Though, the question arises - why did he write me? 

I read on.

My love, I write you with the utmost of my soul. I bears a great deal of pain upon me when I think that I've caused a rift between us two by avoiding you since we last were together. Though, the topic you brought up spurs agony upon me, I feel that I'm necessitated to provide you an explanation, thus I've composed this letter. 

I was originally born in a small village in a small province of Sicily, a large island part of Italy. When I was two, my grandparents were convicted of treason by the Italian Paranormal Bureau, and the judge suggested to my parents that we relocated to America until it was safe for us to return. 

We escaped to an embassy, otherwise known as the Association of Paranormal Activity, who prefer to leave out their real name - American Division of Paranormal Activity. There, they met Minerva, the matriarch of the coven of Wellings. 

I easily got acquainted with her children, whom you know today as Aurelia, Calamity, Caleb and Maxwell. Meanwhile, my parents were training to return to Italy, which they did. When I was seven, possibly, they finally decided it was time to move back to Italy, but without me. 

They designated Minerva as my primary caregiver as I grew into my full vampire-self. Later that month, I witnessed my parents death via live television. It was a horrible day for me. I'll never really care to go further into depth about it. It ignites a flame inside of me that I'd rather leave extinguished. All you need to know is - that day I took up an entire different identity and made myself a full member of the coven. 

It was only a matter before I came an angsty teen with a desire to leave the facility grounds. Although, I did have my moments where I snuck out at night on weekends to meet up with a desperate outcasted band of werewolves unhappy with society, or as you know as, the Resistance. 

I was moved by their story. I craved for the opportunity to become a part of their movement, so when I was fifteen, I told Minerva that I was leaving and joining the werewolves, she told me to climb over the fence and fate would transpire - it did, because a Resistance member did me a favor by turning me into a vampire-werewolf hybrid instead of killing me.   

All I remember is seeing Llwyd holding a dagger to Minerva's chest as he chose who would bear the agony of punishment for committing the ultimate capital crime in our society - creating a hybrid. I looked away, and when I turned back, she was lifeless and slumped across the floor, all jaundiced and bloody. 

That's why I dragged the rest of the coven into the Resistance. To make Llwyd suffer for his crimes. 

I hope you understand why I need some time to myself. I hope we can reunite again soon, presumably at the ball on Sunday. See you then.

- A. Wellings

~

Hey guys. What do you think of Athan's backstory?

If you enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to vote and comment. I'd really appreciate it. Thanks. 

X Shay X