note: horror genre, mature themes

Sara felt the warm wetness spread under her back, and remembered joy.


When she’d found out watersports was a thing, it had been like waking up in fairyland. No — more than that — it was finding out that you can be happy. That you’re allowed.

She’d wet her bed only once as a child. She’d done it dozens of times since she was sixteen and had her own place, and never by accident. No-one ever said anything about all the laundry she ended up doing, even with the plastic under the sheets. She didn’t like the plastic. She liked cheap mattresses that drank in the liquid and let it drip through to the floor.

It was always about the body-heat, the spilling of yourself; about spreading outside your skin. The downsides were negligible. Laundry was just laundry, and a careful diet did away with the smell.

Then college happened, paid for by pennies she had saved up since she’d moved out and got a job at the supermarket, and what money Mom passed her when they saw each other. She couldn’t piss herself anymore, not with a roommate and the communal laundry room. She let joy slip away from her life.

She became Sara the chem major, and Sara the research assistant, and then Sara the research fellow at the uni in Montenegro. Life kept happening.


The summer was hotter than hell, the year she met the vampires.

There are always vampire clubs if you know where to look. Sara didn’t, but Diego did. She dressed in a black clingy satin thing, powdered her face and plucked and painted her eyebrows until they were perfectly ridiculous, high and thin on her forehead. In they went, goth-glammed and giggling.

The vampires circled them like sharks.


Diego lay on the next bed over, pale and scared, his breath coming in short panicked gasps. The sheets were red and thick. Cotton? Sara clutched them and felt old crusty stains under her fingers.

No matter. The heat under her back was still fresh.


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