Claire sat in the exam hall, the overhead lights casting a sterile glow on the blank sheet of paper in front of her. The room buzzed with quiet tension; the scratching of pens on paper sounded like the constant drip of a leaky faucet. She stared at the first question, her mind a turbulent sea of thoughts, each wave threatening to capsize her fragile concentration.
The stranger’s face from the metro lingered in her mind, an unwelcome ghost haunting her focus. The flicker of his fangs, the way he seemed to notice her—everything about the encounter gnawed at her thoughts like a persistent itch she couldn’t scratch.
"Focus, Claire, focus," she whispered to herself, willing her mind back to the present. She gripped her pen tightly, the cold metal serving as an anchor to reality. Yet, her eyes kept wandering back to the blank paper, the questions blurring into a daunting mess.
Time seemed to mock her, each tick of the clock reminding her of the seconds being wasted, slipping through her fingers like so much sand. She could almost hear Hugo's voice in her head, encouraging her, telling her she could do this.
She forced herself to read the first question again, breaking it down into smaller, manageable pieces. Slowly, she began to write, but the words felt heavy, reluctant to flow. Her hand moved on autopilot, jotting down facts and figures she’d memorized over countless nights of study, but her heart wasn’t in it.
The final question loomed before her like a mountain, impossibly difficult. She had to force every ounce of her willpower into writing an answer, her brain grinding against the distractions that plagued her. Completing it felt like a small miracle, though doubt gnawed at her heart, whispering that her efforts might not be enough.
As the signal to end the exam rang out, Claire laid down her pen and took a deep breath, her chest feeling both constricted and relieved. She had made it through by sheer force of will, but the unsettling questions still circled her mind like vultures over fresh prey.
Claire exited the exam hall with a head full of doubts. She found Hugo waiting in the cafeteria, a comforting sight amidst the chaos in her mind.
"How was it?" Hugo offered her a cup of cappuccino and a piece of dark chocolate—her favorite.
"It could’ve been better," she admitted, "but I’m fine. Let’s wait for the results."
"Whatever is done, is done. Let's focus on celebrating your 18th birthday tonight. I know a great club," Hugo said enthusiastically.
"Sure, tell me more." Claire couldn’t help but be drawn in by his infectious excitement, even as her mind wandered.
Sneaking back home later, Claire hoped to avoid a probing conversation with her aunt, but Talia's sharp ears betrayed her.
"How was the exam?" Talia's voice floated from the kitchen.
"It was okay. Results come out in two weeks," Claire replied casually, trying to brush off any worry.
"Claire, now that you’ve finished, we need to talk about... certain changes you might experience."
"Yes, we’ve had that talk, and I'm fine," Claire replied, a mix of irritation and confusion in her voice.
"No, I mean... have you noticed strange occurrences? Unexplainable events?"
Despite dismissing it as one of Talia's whimsical notions tied to her tourist-attracting witch boutique, Claire couldn’t shake the feeling that she might be alluding to the vampire-like stranger she’d seen earlier. She laughed it off awkwardly, just as the doorbell rang—Hugo was there to whisk her away to the party.
Talia seemed more concerned than usual, but Claire brushed it aside as they left.