Bad Blood by Bogdan Dragos

Nine PM caught them sitting on

the broken bench by

the river banks

She removes her jacket and

stretches her

hands. “See?” she says, “I told you I’m

bad blood.”

He stares at her,

mute and dumb and

utterly incapable to find himself

in her dark eyes “Huh?”

“The mosquitoes,” she says. “They

don’t want to

suck my blood. See? Not one of

‘em lands on me.” Lightly, she hammers a

fist against her chest. “This blood

is poisoned, I tell you. I’ve been

drinking since

my age was in the single digits. Helped

myself to mother’s stash

countless times. Now you can’t tell

my chest apart from a boy’s and, if I

remember right, I was about sixteen

by the time I had

my first period. Pretty sure I

can’t have children either. Though

I never really tested this.”

He hesitates. “But… your face is like