Chapter 1: The Cut Beneath the Candlelight
“My mom believes that everyone in this world is good.But are they?Or are they just bloodsuckers hiding behind a smile?”
Emerald Blackwood sat at the dining table, surrounded by warmth—or at least what looked like it. The modest house wasn’t luxurious, but it held a comfort only memories could afford. Tonight, it was glowing. Yellow fairy lights shimmered above, casting soft halos over each family member’s face.
Her mother, Scarlett, had prepared Emerald’s favorite dishes—creamy mashed potatoes, herb-roasted chicken, and a decadent chocolate cake. Her father, William, smiled proudly from across the table, while her older brother, Charley, teased her lovingly about turning fifteen.
They looked like a perfect family.
They weren’t.
As the room echoed with birthday wishes and laughter, Emerald leaned forward to slice the cake. But just as the knife touched the icing, it slipped—cutting her index finger. Blood pooled instantly. A few drops splattered across the cake, tainting the celebration.
Scarlett rushed forward with a cloth, wiping Emerald’s finger with the urgency of a mother trying to erase not just blood, but the omen it carried.
“Just a small cut,” she smiled, too quickly. “Nothing to ruin your big day.”
But something had already shifted.
Later that night, Emerald stood at the top of the stairs, watching the same family retreat to their rooms without a single goodnight or final wish. She frowned.
Maybe they were just tired.
She tried to believe that. Really, she did.
She slipped into bed. The softness of her emerald-colored sheets usually brought her comfort. Not tonight. Not with that strange, uneasy feeling in her chest.
The next morning, Scarlett was back to flipping pancakes and humming softly. It felt normal. Too normal. Her brother Charley sat beside her during breakfast like he always did, nudging her shoulder and asking for extra syrup.
Everything looked the same.
But Emerald couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t.
At school, everyone admired Charley and Emerald. They were model students—polite, respectful, always scoring well. But admiration bred envy. Especially from one person.
Adam.
A backbencher with a permanent scowl, Adam despised Emerald—not for who she was, but for what she made him feel:
Insignificant. Invisible. Powerless.
He sat in the canteen, watching her laugh with classmates while eating her favorite sandwich. His jaw tightened.
“You think you’re so perfect,” he muttered to himself.
Another student approached. “Hey, your dad told me to keep you focused. He wants you to be more like Emerald.”
That did it.
Adam’s rage boiled over. He walked up to Emerald and slammed his hand on the table.
“You! What are you doing to my life? Why does everyone praise you? Why does my own family compare me to you?”
Emerald blinked in shock. She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t let her.
“I hate you,” he spat. “Because of you… I don’t even get to be me.”
And just like that, a thread of darkness had been sewn into Emerald’s perfect little life.
