Catherine sat in her seat at the front of the room. She had been coming in early every morning to do homework and catch up. After her brothers death she had began to let her life slip out of control, now with poor grades and depression problems, her teacher asked if she would like to come in early and catch up.

She took out her book and a piece of paper when she felt someone sit behind her, "If you need any help at al just ask. I'll be at my desk."

Catherin looked behind her. Mrs. Warner was behind her and was holding her coffee in her hands. Catherine nodded to acknowledge that she had heard her. She closed her eyes and tried no to think about the smell of fresh blood filtering into the school. She tried not listen to its running whispers or agonizingly painful memories of the taste in her mouth. Instead she tried to think about the book in front of her. Her brothers death had been hers, and she just began to understand the seriousness of what she had done. Of what she had traded her soul for.