It was just your average Tuesday morning in Angell Fall. You know, that charming little town where:
A body turned up by the lake. Pale. Bloodless. Apartly according to Police is from an Animal Bite.
The teens responded in the only way they knew how. They threw a neon rave in the woods with loud music, questionable drinks, and zero adult supervision. Someone actually brought a fog machine. For aesthetic.
The town's water started smelling suspiciously like lavender body mist. No one talked about it. People just Drinking it.
And the Founder's Ball was still happening. Of course it was. Because apparently, murder doesn't cancel formal events. Priorities.
Totally normal. Totally human. Totally not a supernatural murder-town run by ancient monsters who all happen to be attractive, emotionally damaged, and allergic to therapy.
Except it wasn't.
Angell Fall is a nesting doll of supernatural nonsense. If you shake the town hard enough, something with fangs or claws or some weird glowing eyes falls out. It's like someone opened a portal to every monster cliché ever written and just let them settle down, buy real estate, and join the PTA.
We've got vampires. Moody. Gorgeous. The kind who walk slow and talk slower like they're charging by the syllable. But apparently they have super-fast walk as their power.
Werewolves. Shirtless a lot. Constantly brooding like someone stole their Spotify password. They fight over territory and occasionally rip their shirts in half for no real reason.
Witches. Pretty. Judgy. Walk around smelling like rosemary and secrets. They always know things they're not supposed to, and they love reminding you that you don't.
And there's Least expected one; a doppelgänger. Which I thought was just a rude way of saying "you look like your cousin." Nope. It's apparently a whole supernatural identity-theft situation with lots of murder and eyeliner.
And me?
I don't belong here. I'm not one of them. I'm not a vampire. I'm not a witch. I'm not even the girl in the background with a cursed locket and mysterious past.
I'm just me. Rumi. A very average college freshman who gets winded going up stairs. I don't have powers. I don't have secrets. I don't even have a good skincare routine.
And according to every rule of this world, I shouldn't be here. Because this is a TV show, and I am not any character here.
So how did I get here?
Okay. Here's the part where it gets dumb.
It started in my dorm room. I was doing what I usually do when life feels like too much. Watching I Love Blood. The most melodramatic supernatural show of all time. A cheesy, over-filtered masterpiece from the 2000s filled with fog, shirtless metaphors, and questionable romance choices.
It's my comfort show. My guilty pleasure. My emotional support chaos.
I was rewatching Episode 1.5. Again. The one where Ella, the mortal girl with huge eyes and no survival instincts, gets chased by cult vampires through the woods. It's also the one where she almost kisses Daren Hallister, the morally bankrupt vampire bad boy with high cheekbones and low respect for boundaries AND HER BOYFRIEND STEVENHAM'S BROTHER.
Daren is the main reason people watched the show. Tall. Dark. Looks like he hasn't blinked in centuries. The internet had entire forums dedicated to his leather jackets and his jawline. Never mind the red flags — the man could raise an army with that smirk alone.
I had chips on my lap, earbuds in, hoodie up. It was past midnight. The dorm was quiet except for the faint hum of someone's microwave down the hall.
Then a mosquito flew in.
Not just any mosquito. This one was massive and fast and clearly on some kind of mission. I swatted at it. Missed. Tried to grab the coil off the windowsill. My foot caught on a bucket I had absolutely no reason to own. I stumbled. Fell forward. Slammed straight into the metal bedframe with the full force of every bad decision I've ever made.
Everything went black.
And then I woke up.
Not in a hospital. Not in a dream. In a forest.
A real one.
Cold air. Trees everywhere. Mist curling around my ankles like it had been choreographed. The exact kind of forest from Episode 1.5. The one where Ella gets chased and almost dies and Daren swoops in with dramatic timing and perfectly tousled hair.
For a few seconds, I stood there frozen, waiting for someone to shout WAKEUP, because clearly this has to be a fever dream
No one did.
Somewhere off in the trees, I heard Ella scream.
I turned in a slow circle, my heart doing that thing where it tries to escape your chest and crawl away. Same scenery. Same sounds. Same creepy mood lighting.
Somehow, I had landed inside the episode, it took its sweet time for me to realize that.
No intro sequence. No glitchy portal or time travel spell. One minute I was watching I Love Blood in my dorm. The next, I was walking through it in real time.
And the worst part? I wasn't Ella. Or even one of the named extras.
I was just... me.
No script. No powers. No character arc. Just a background nobody who had no business being in this messed-up world of monsters, curses, and smoldering tension.
I didn't know what to do. So I hid. Behind a tree. Like a coward. A very smart coward. Because I knew what happened in this scene. Ella was about to trip. The cult was about to show up. Daren was about to dramatically save the day. And I had no intention of being collateral damage.
From my hiding spot, I watched as the scene played out exactly the way I remembered. Ella in her distressed tank top, screaming and running in slow motion. The cultists in matching red cloaks. The cheesy vampire fangs. Even the overly dramatic musical cue.
No one saw me.
No one even looked in my direction.
I waited until the scene was over, then carefully backed away from the trail and kept walking. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I had to get away from the plot. Because in a show like this, the plot kills people. Fast.
So yeah.
That's how I ended up here.
Trapped inside a supernatural soap opera with no idea how I got in or how to get out. Every character around me is playing their part. Saying their lines. Moving like they're on rails. And I'm just floating on the edge of it, trying to stay invisible.
The scariest part? It's working.
No one's noticed me yet. Which is good. I think.
As long as no one sees me, I'm safe. No plot means no danger. No awkward romantic subplots. No mysterious destiny. No weird glowing birthmark that unlocks some hidden power.
Just me. Blending in. Avoiding the drama. Staying very far away from anything with fangs, secrets, or slow-motion eye contact.
I don't know how long I can keep this up.
But for now, I'm alive.