The first time Aiden shifted, he thought he was dying.

  It began in his bones.

  Not pain exactly - Not at first, just pressure.

  Like something inside him was to large for his skin.

  Then his bones starting snapping , like a wet splintering Crack that vibrated through his entire skill.

  His heartbeat hammered against his ribs, the rhythm growing faster and louder , until it was a frantic thrumming in his ears.

  As rhe next wave of snapping bones hit the world blurred. The pain became to much to bear, losing consciousness before he could even scream.

  The pact warned him this would happen.

  They called it "Becoming" - They called it "Sacred" .

  To them it was a gift you have to claim at Table Mountain before you turned Eighteen, all under a light of a full moon. But they didn't warn you about the unbearable pain that came with it.

  When Aiden finally opened his eyes the moon was lower in the sky, casting a long, pale shadow over the rocks of Table Mountain.

  He was naked....

  The cold air biting against his skin, but he barely felt the cold.

  Beside him lay a boy - maybe Nineteen.

  He was wearing a dark jacket and a blue sweatpants , his phone's flashlight still face- down in the dirt casting a weak dying glow.

  The boy's throat had been ripped opened, the jagged edges of the wound still glistering in the moonlight.

  Blood was smeared across his pale face, matting with his hair.

  Aiden looked down at his own hands and saw the blood - the boy's blood.

  He starred at the body , the lifeless corpse laying still and then his hands , waiting for a memory.

  Nothing....

  Nothing.....

  Then the memories came in blurred flashes - sending a jolt of pain into his head.

  It felt like a fever dream, a sensation of running - Faster then any human should!

  A sharp SCREAM that cut off into the wet silence.

  And then......Nothing.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He didn't remember a kill.

  He didn't remember the taste.

  Everything was a blur.

  Three years later.

  Woodstock

  After that night Aiden decided to leave the pact , his family.

  He wanted to forget that memory - forget what he have done.

  He needed to be someone else.

  He needed to forget.

  Now he lives in a wold of fluorescent lights and cheap linoleum. He worked in a small convenience store, earning just enough to get by .

  He rents a narrow- room in the shady part of Woodstock with cracked paint and a tinted windows that always stuck when it rains.

  He learned to control the transformation on full moons , by drinking over the counter sleeping tablets.

  He can still feel the shift , the transformation.

  But it was it bay.

  HE WAS IN CONTROL.

  Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw the headline that resurfaced two day's after that night:

  LOCAL TEEN KILLED IN ANIMAL ATTACK ON TABLE MOUNTAIN.

  The photo burned into his mind.

  Smiling

  Dark hair.

  Soft eyes.

  ETHAN HALE

  Aiden memorized the name like a prayer, like a curse.

  THE MEETING ON LONG STREET.

  On a warm Friday night, after closing the store, Aiden walked further than usual.

  Past streets he didn't recognized.

  Past people laughing loudly.

  He ended up on Long Street without meaning to.

  Music spilled from clubs , neon signs flickered.

  Humans moved in bright , careless clusters.

  Aiden stayed at the edge watching.

  He liked watching , it was safer then belonging.

  That's when he saw him.

  A boy sat alone near a corner café, sketchbook balanced on his knee. His head slightly tilted as he drew the crowd.

  Dark hair.

  Focused expression.

  A soft mouth.

  Something about him tugged at Aiden’s chest.

  The boy glanced up. As if he sensed Aiden’s eyes on him, his head tilted as if he'd felt a physical touch.

  Their eyes met.

  And Aiden felt it - Not hunger. Not violent instinct from 3 years ago.

  Something warmer.

  Something terrifying in a different way.

  The boy offered a small, shy shy smile.

  Aiden almost turned away.

  He should have, instead he stepped closer.

  "You draw strangers often?" , Aiden asked quietly.

  The boy studied him - Not afraid , jusy curious.

  " Only the interesting ones", he said.

  Aiden swallowed, his throat dry. " Am i interesting?" Aiden asked.

  The boy's eyes flickered over him slowly. Thoughtfully.

  "Yes " , be closed his sketchbook, " I'm Luca, Luca Hale"

  The name hit Aiden like a distant echo.

  Luca....Hale.

  Aiden’s heart skipped , but he quickly forced a breath out.

  It has to be a coincidence, he told himself.

  Cape town was a massive city- thousands of people lived here.

  Surely the name was common. It was just a statistical fluke.

  "I'm Aiden" he repled, his voice steadier than he felt.

  They shook hands - a quick jarring contact that sent a strange sting through Aiden’s palm.

  He pulled away almost immediately.

  "I... I have to go" , he stammered, already taking a step back into the shadows of the side walk.

  "I have a early shift tomorrow ".

  He didn't wait for Luca to respond. He turned and walked away .

  His heart hammering against his ribs just like it had 3 years ago on the mountain.

  Over and Over he repeated the words in his head , like a prayer or a lie.

  " It means nothing!" He whispered to himself .

  "The name Hale... means nothing ".

  By the time he reached the quiet salt- thick air in Woodstock , his lungs were burning.

  He climed the stairs to his narrow room, the floorboard groaning under his weight.

  He didn't rurn on the light , He just sat on the edge of the bed , staring at the window that stuck when it rained, watching the moonlight bleed through the tinted glass.

  The thought of the sketchbook, the soft mouth.

  The way his own skin had prickled when their hands met.

  Then the thought of the blood on the soil of Table Mountain and the face in the news article, he had memorized like a curse.

  The denial finally broke. Leaving something heavy and hollow in his chest.

  What are the ODDS?