Thirsty for him

Today I turned sixteen.

Sixteen years old already, and it still feels like just another lonely day. Most girls would be celebrating right now with cake, friends, and something to make turning sixteen feel special. But not me. I’m the outsider. At school, at home, everywhere I go. You’re probably thinking, Are you depressed or something?

No. I’m not. I’ve just been invisible for as long as I can remember, especially at home. My dad lives with us, but only technically. He shows up for dinner, eats in silence, and leaves. The only person he actually talks to is my older sister, Diana. Diana is the perfect one. Always smiling, always polished, never a hair out of place. Unlike me, who wakes up every morning with hair that looks like it fought a war and lost.

My mom? Just as perfect, just as distant. She doesn’t leave her room without a full face of makeup and a fresh blowout. If I walk past her without mascara, she looks at me like I just insulted her soul.

“You could at least try not to look like a zombie,” she told me last week.

I’ve stopped trying. Why bother? My parents worship Diana. She gets the praise, the smiles, the birthday songs. Even though she turned eighteen this year, they still threw her a full-blown party with a cake, candles, and the whole performance. For me? Nothing. So yeah, I didn’t expect anything today. But then something weird happened.

Dad was home. Early. Just standing in the living room like he had nowhere better to be. And Mom was in the kitchen, moving like she had a purpose, not just floating around with a wine glass and a new face mask.

Was this... for me?

I tried not to think about it too hard. I had chores. No reason to hang around where I wasn’t wanted. After scrubbing the downstairs bathroom, I headed back to my room. Safe, silent, mine. That’s when it hit me.

A sharp pain exploded in my lower back like someone was carving something into my skin. I dropped to my knees, clutching the floor, screaming into my hands to muffle the noise.

What the hell was happening?

It felt like my body didn’t belong to me anymore, like something ancient and cruel had reached out and marked me. When the pain finally faded, I was left trembling, numb. I crawled to the bathroom and locked the door. Took a deep breath. Then, slowly, I lifted the back of my shirt and looked in the mirror.

There it was. A red crescent-shaped mark burned into my skin. I didn’t think. I ran. Down the stairs. Into the dining room. Panic screaming through my veins. And there they were. My parents. Setting the table. Candles. My mom’s best plates. A full dinner spread.

Was this... actually for me?

“What’s wrong, dear?” my mom asked, her voice strangely sweet.

“Something happened,” I said. “Something really weird.”

Before I could explain, Diana walked in carrying a cake. “Happy Birthday, sister!” she shouted like we did this every year.

“What is happening?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“We’re just celebrating your sixteenth birthday,” Mom said, beaming. “I made your favorite dish. And this cake I made it this morning.”

She was smiling, but something in her eyes made my stomach twist. I turned to Dad. “What’s happening to me?” He looked at me like I wasn’t even real. Then he stepped forward, pressed his hand to my forehead, and whispered something I couldn’t quite hear.

“It’s starting.”

Starting?

What was starting?

“Finally,” Mom said. “The turning begins.” Dad grabbed my shirt and lifted it, exposing the mark. He stared at it for a moment. Then he laughed. Cold. Loud. Like something inhuman had taken over him.

“What does it mean?” I whispered.

“She’s marked,” he said. “Victoria, it’s confirmed. She’s one of us.”

No one answered my questions. Instead, they just... sat down. “Come eat,” Mom said, her voice suddenly sharp again.

I sat. In front of me was a plate of food I didn’t recogniz, definitely not my favorite. It looked like Diana’s usual choices. Of course. They didn’t even know what I liked. I stared at my sister. Her face practically glowed under all that makeup. Her eyes were locked on Dad, like I didn’t even exist.

That’s when something snapped.

“Tell me what’s happening!” I shouted. My chair crashed to the floor behind me.

Everyone looked at me. Not surprised. Not concerned. Just... annoyed. “Please sit, Avery,” Dad said calmly. “Eat.” I was shaking now. Fear wrapping around me like chains. The mark on my back pulsed like it was alive.

Diana leaned over and whispered, “Just breathe. It’ll be over soon.”

“What’s happening to me?” I begged her.

She walked over, heels clicking. Bent down, whispered again:

“You’re cursed.”

The world tilted. Everything slowed. That word echoed through my mind.

Cursed.

“Rick, enough with the performance,” Mom said. “We knew this was coming.” Dad sliced the cake. “Welcome, child,” he said. “You’re one of us now.” No explanations. No answers. Just cake.

“Avery,” Diana said, pulling me into a hug. “You’re a Nicroat.”

And just like that, I forgot how to breathe.