The world tilted. Joana clutched her head, a symphony of sounds assaulting her ears – the distant buzz of a bee, the croaking of frogs, Andrew’s voice from miles away. It was too much, a million fragmented images flashing behind her eyes.

Then, a sharp pain in her gums. Her canines elongated, pushing against her lip. Her fingernails sharpened, morphing into claws. A ravaging hunger churned in her stomach, not for food, but for blood. Fear coiled in her gut. She stumbled to the mirror, but her reflection was gone, replaced by a ghostly shimmer.

"Joana, it’s time!" Sandra's voice called from the door, a muffled plea to the monster she was becoming. Panicked, Joana flung open her window, grabbing the familiar oak branch. She scrambled down, her wedding slip flapping around her, and ran. She didn't know where, only that she had to escape this new, terrifying self. Her legs, betraying her, carried her directly to the wedding hall.

A gasp, then screams erupted. Andrew, brave but bewildered, approached her, his hand reaching out. All she saw was the pulsing vein in his neck, the scent of his blood intoxicating. Before she could stop herself, she lunged.