Bond Beyond The Grave: The daughter who came back dead

I died in an alley three months ago. But I woke up. Not in a hospital—in a morgue freezer. Pale. Cold. Fangs. I ran home. Mom opened the door, looked at me, and said, "Your lipstick is smeared." She knew. She said nothing. She bought blackout curtains. Sunscreen. Raw meat. Every night, she locked me in the cellar. Every morning, she let me out. And then one day, a stranger came to town—with a silver compass that wouldn't stop spinning.

I died in an alley three months ago. But I woke up. Not in a hospital—in a morgue freezer. Pale. Cold. Fangs. I ran home. Mom opened the door, looked at me, and said, "Your lipstick is smeared." She knew. She said nothing. She bought blackout curtains. Sunscreen. Raw meat. Every night, she locked me in the cellar. Every morning, she let me out. And then one day, a stranger came to town—with a silver compass that wouldn't stop spinning.