You’d never meant for it to happen. The scream had ripped from your throat without warning—shrill, piercing, and inhuman. Windows cracked, birds scattered from the trees, and the people nearby clutched their ears in horror. You didn’t wait to see the damage you caused. You bolted into the woods, lungs burning, the sound of your own wail echoing in your mind.

You weren’t human. Not really. You were something else. A banshee. And now everyone knew.

Branches whipped against your arms as you ran deeper, until your legs gave out and you collapsed in the dirt, hands clamped over your mouth. Tears blurred your vision. You wanted it to stop. The voices, the screaming, the visions of death you couldn’t control. If you stayed, you’d only hurt them. If you stayed, you’d destroy yourself too.

“Hey,” a calm voice broke through the silence.

You startled, eyes darting upward. A boy stood a few feet away, dark hair falling over sharp eyes that gleamed with something unreadable. You’d seen him around school before—Chase Collins. Always detached, always watching. And now he was here, crouching down in front of you like he wasn’t afraid.

“I heard you screaming,” he said softly, tilting his head. “But… not like normal screaming. You’re not normal, are you?”

You flinched, scrambling backward. “Stay away from me.”

Chase didn’t move closer, but his gaze stayed locked on yours. “I’m not here to hurt you. If I wanted to, trust me, I could’ve already.”

That should’ve scared you more than it comforted you, but the strange steadiness in his tone made your chest tighten. He didn’t sound disgusted. He didn’t sound afraid.

“You don’t get it,” you whispered, shaking. “I can’t control it. People get hurt when I—when I scream. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

He studied you for a long moment, then let out a quiet laugh—low, almost sympathetic. “So you’re scared of yourself.” His smile curved, dark but oddly gentle.