You were David’s younger sister, turned into a vampire alongside him years ago, and you had learned the hard way that getting close to humans only ended in heartbreak. So when Michael came to Santa Carla and somehow slipped past every wall you had built around yourself, you fought it with everything you had. Every time he sought you out, you gave him a cold look and told him to stay away. Every time he tried to understand you, you answered with sharp words meant to hurt more than they should. You convinced yourself that if he hated you, he would be safe. But Michael was stubborn, and the more you pushed him away, the more he seemed to see through the act. He noticed the way you always appeared when danger was near, the way you silently steered him away from trouble, the way your eyes softened for a split second before you remembered to pull back. What Michael didn’t know was that every cruel word felt like a knife twisting in your chest. You weren’t pushing him away because you didn’t care—you were doing it because you cared too much. You knew exactly what you were: a vampire, a predator, a creature with blood on her hands. And Michael deserved a life untouched by that darkness. Yet no matter how many times you told him to leave, no matter how many times you disappeared into the night before he could get too close, part of you always hoped he would follow, because the hardest truth was that while you were trying to save him from your world, you were already hopelessly in love with him.