Fractured | Jenlisa, Satzu

I

She leaned in, and bit it to see if this was real...

It's impossible anyways, wouldn't happen in a million years. And Jennie's always been a firm believer of "You Only Live Once". This is a "might happen in your hundredth lifetime type thing", maybe not even then.

If she could only live once, why did she feel... so sober? So awake. So damn alive. Is she? Is she... alive?

Surely this dirt-filled papertown is not what heaven should be like.

Jennie had never been a sinner, at least, not enough to get thrown into the underworld. This has to be a mistake.

She retracted, only to see two deep red marks, blood gushing out. This is all so fucked up. Perhaps she fell asleep during one of the many dates where her Edward-obsessed summer fling forced her to watch another sitting's worth of that stupid Twilight bullshit.

That was never her jam, never something that would just "grow on her", no matter how far this teenage puppy-love attraction for her situationship goes.

The vivid memory of the acute pain shooting straight up her veins, and bloody eyes meeting her own. This is just a dream (a nightmare).

No. Jennie never dreams. She never dreams and even if she did, it would never be about this supernatural crap.

She glanced down at the puddle of water, now stained red... that's her blood... isn't it? Looking to the body of the dead woman again, the two dotted reminders on her neck that this might just be anything but a dream.

Because the dark red substance that once tasted like rusty metal to her had never smelt so alluring.

She stumbles to a nearby classic Ford Mustang, staring at her distorted self-image through the tinted windows of the vehicle.

Dilated pupils... disheveled hair... sweat dripping down her neck... (blood oozing out of her mouth... and Jennie wants nothing more than to unsee.)

Maybe she's just high. (From what? The drugs she never took?) Maybe this is just some messed up hallucination. A realistic one, Jennie would admit.

She leaned her head against the window, giving the glass material a light punch.

Clearly not... it shattered into a thousand shards.

She was never this strong before. Jennie had always been the quiet kid in school. Like a tarantula, silent but deadly. Detached but seemingly still quite high up on the social ladder.

No, she can't be this strong.

This is fake.

This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.

She picked up a relatively larger chunk of glass from the ground and scraped it roughly against her arm.

1...2...3...

3 seconds. That's all it took.

There was no trace. No wound. No scar. No blood.

"Jennie... you're so fucked." She heard a chuckle from behind.

The brunette gritted her teeth. It was her. The wicked bitch of the west who decided to ruin her life with her sharp fangs and ruby coloured eyes.

Jennie seethed, from the corner of her eye she could see her now purple orbs, reflecting on the remaining pieces of the window.

Tzuyu smirked. "Purple... now ain't that interesting."

A fraction of a second later, Tzuyu was pinned to the Mustang. "What's wrong with me." Jennie snarled.

With the snap of Tzuyu's fingers, they were now in a cozy cabin. The tall girl was sat on a table, sharpening a knife.