Bones and All

The night stretched out like an endless ribbon of shadow, wrapping around Maren and Lee as they drove through the backroads of America. The old, rust-bitten Chevy rumbled beneath them, headlights cutting through the darkness like knives. The air smelled of pine and wet earth, but beneath it lingered something metallic — the faint echo of blood.

Maren stared out the window, her fingers trailing over the cracked leather of the seat. Her heart beat heavy, an anchor in her chest. She hadn’t asked for this life, this hunger that curled inside her like an unrelenting parasite. But Lee had found her when she was lost, alone, starving. He understood. He was like her.

“You’re quiet,” Lee said, voice low and rough as he steered with one hand. His knuckles, bruised and raw, caught the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

“I’m thinking,” Maren whispered. “About what comes next.”

Lee smirked, though there was no real humor in it. His jaw was sharp, lined with stubble, and his eyes — impossibly blue — flicked toward her. “There is no next, Maren. There’s only this.”

She bit her lip, tasting copper. It had been days since their last meal, and her body ached with need. The hunger was always there, lurking beneath her skin, waiting to surface like a feral beast. She pressed her forehead to the cold glass of the window, watching the trees blur by.

They stopped in a nameless town, the kind of place that didn’t make it onto maps. A flickering neon sign buzzed above a diner, casting pink light onto the damp pavement. The parking lot was empty except for a single truck.

Inside, the diner smelled of burnt coffee and old grease. A waitress, middle-aged and weary, handed them menus without looking up. Maren’s stomach churned. The thought of food — real food — made her nauseous.

Lee watched her carefully, sensing the shift in her. He always knew, like he could feel the pulse of her craving as keenly as his own. He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said. “Not tonight.”

But they both knew that wasn’t true.

When the man in the truck left the diner, they followed. He drove toward the outskirts of town, into the dark, isolated woods. Maren's pulse quickened, the hunger sharpening her senses. She could hear the man’s breath, smell the salt on his skin even through the metal and glass.

Lee parked a quarter mile back. They walked in silence, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The man had parked beside a crumbling gas station, stepping out to light a cigarette. He never saw them coming.

The kill was fast. Lee pinned him to the ground, his body moving with practiced efficiency. Maren hated how natural it felt — the way her mouth found flesh, the way the blood soothed her like nothing else could. She hated it, but she needed it.

Afterward, they lay in the back of the Chevy, tangled in each other. Lee wiped the blood from her lips with the sleeve of his shirt, his touch impossibly gentle.

“We’re monsters,” Maren whispered.

Lee kissed her forehead, his lips warm despite the chill in the air. “Maybe. But we’re monsters together.”

They kept driving, state to state, town to town. Each place left a new scar on their souls, but they couldn’t stop. The hunger wouldn’t let them.

One night, they camped beside a river, the stars reflecting off the water like shards of glass. Maren dipped her feet into the freezing current, watching the ripples distort her reflection.

“I don’t want to live like this forever,” she said, her voice barely audible over the rush of water.

Lee sat beside her, legs stretched out, hands resting on his knees. “Then we make it stop.”

Maren looked at him, searching his face for answers she knew he didn’t have. His eyes were tired, haunted. But when he looked at her, she felt something close to hope.

They kissed under the stars, their bodies pressed close, hearts beating in sync. It was desperate and messy, love blooming in the cracks of their brokenness. For a moment, the hunger faded, and all that remained was each other.

But hunger always returns.

And love, no matter how fierce, cannot erase the beast that lives within.