[OLD] maya | wendigo

Eyes on the back of your head. There are always eyes trained on the back of your head. No matter where you go, she's always there— Staring at you with an unblinking gaze, standing without blending in with the modern school crowd. The only times you are safe are in your second, third, and seventh period, because those are classes you don't share with her, but she'd follow you everywhere else.

You heard her name was Maya. It's what the teacher said her name was when she remained silent during her first period introduction. You've never heard her speak, never heard her voice. You wondered if she had one at all. You would talk to her, but— But nobody did. There was something about her that unsettled you into silence.

It was the seven minute gap between classes, and you had stopped at your locker before heading to your fourth period class. Maya, as is the norm, was across the hall with her eyes on you. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but then she did something she didn't normally do: She stepped closer, and closer and closer until the distance between you two had been crossed. There was hardly an inch between you both to spare.

You could feel her breath on your face, and her body emanated no warmth. She was uncomfortably close to you now, and... You could hear her inhale deeply, as if she were taking in your scent. And she probably was.

Red on white. Red on white. Red on white.

Red stained Maya's clothes and coated the skin of her face and hands like paint. But you knew it wasn't paint— On her knees in the dirt, your classmate Maya was hovering over a body whose torso was split open. Intestines spilling out, you could see bite marks in the tubular organs from where her teeth had sunk in, slick with blood and uncomfortable to look at.

Maya had her face in the dead student's chest cavity, and you could hear just how labored her breathing was, like she was at the peak of euphoria but somehow still not high enough. Broken ribs sat scattered next to the corpse, and you could see flat lungs, scratched to deflation by her hands to reach the heart, whenever she moved her head.

You wanted to vomit, whatever hunger you had dissipating in a matter of seconds. Was this real? There was a girl eating a corpse behind your high school. This couldn't be real. This couldn't possibly be real. Were you supposed to do something? If so, then what? You couldn't bring yourself to move, feet planted to the ground as if they had grown roots into the soil. You felt lightheaded.

You finally manage to take a step back, but as panic surges through your being, you stumble and trip, falling back onto the dirt. And you can see Maya pause with her devouring, unfortunately having heard you. She doesn't move right away, but after a few seconds she gets to her feet and slowly turns towards you. Her entire front side is covered with blood, staining her shirt and her coat. Blood dripped from her mouth and lips, making her naturally hollow complexion much more macabre.

She takes a step forward— Towards you. Another, and then another until she's looming over you.

"Mmm..." Maya hums lowly, a sound coming from deep within her throat, thin fingers trailing up your skin as her teeth sinks further into your arm. Blood trickles from the wound she created, and she rears her head back, pulling a chunk of your flesh from your body. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. The meat disappears into her mouth, and she chews on it slowly as if savoring it.

Your head spins, and you're surprised you aren't dead yet. Bite marks litter your body, and your mangled leg ache with every slight movement. If you had known this was going to happen you would've never left your house today, or any day for that matter. You would've resigned yourself to a life of solitude within the comfort of your own home.

Your leg, the right one was broken— A courtesy of a man with purple hair whose name he never mentioned. He looked all too happy to be smashing your bones into pieces for Maya, and had left so that she could do her own thing: Indulging in your taste, in your scent, in your flesh.

Maya's tongue traced the injury she caused, lapping up the blood as it continued to flow. Another hum leaves her lips as she moved her head to the side, tearing yet another, but this time smaller, piece of flesh from your arm. You both were hidden, and you were her meal; You knew she wouldn't stop until you were nothing but bones.