Chapter 2: "The Cell"
Pain...
Emma opened her eyes slowly.
Such agonizing pain...
She lifted a trembling hand to her forehead, wincing as she came in contact with a large lump. She could feel the caked blood crackle as she cringed.
-Where am I?-
She lay crumpled upon a cold, damp floor, stone by the feel of it. She wasn't at home in her warm bed, of that she was certain. The disorientation was uncomforting, and she struggled to remember what had happened.
She looked about in the dim light, feeling faint as she did so, and noticed another ache in her neck. As she felt the punctures there, realization came to her. She could see his piercing eyes as if they were right in front of her… could feel his unwanted hands groping her body, feel his sharp teeth puncture her flesh all over again, draining her of her life's blood.
She gasped aloud in terror and instantly brought her hands to her mouth as if in attempt to hold it in, but it was already too late. She heard a door open somewhere nearby, and listened to the echoing of heavy steps and the jingle jingle of keys as an unknown being walked down the hall - and towards her prison cell, no less. She had to hide…but where?! There wasn't even a toilet to lay claim to in the smelly chamber.
Emma attempted to make herself as small as she possibly could in the darkest corner she could find. She shook in fear as she huddled in the corner, convinced whoever it was could hear her teeth chattering. She watched in agony as they came closer.
It was him.
There was no mistaking his tall stature, dressed from head to toe in dark clothing. The black tank-top he wore clung to his masculine chest, leaving his defined arms bare, and his midnight slacks added just a touch of couture to the look. If Emma weren't so frightened, she might have noticed these things, but as it was, she was scared near to death.
"Hello, my pet." His voice echoed through the chamber. He half-smiled as he looked upon her feeble attempt to conceal herself. He unlocked the gate, closing it behind him before walking over to her.
Emma would have given anything to be invisible at that moment. She could feel his eyes upon her, which unsettled her even further. She risked looking up at him, and met instantly with his crimson gaze. Her own hazel eyes glossed over in shock, and she could not pry loose from the spell she was under.
"I trust you slept well, Dove?"
That snapped her out of it. "I already told you not to call me that!"
She immediately regretted this action. Emma was never one to keep her opinions to herself, and this "quality" she had about her often got her into trouble.
"Temper, temper. I was just inquiring as to your well-being. You will soon learn to quiet that tongue of yours, although - as I mentioned the other night - I do admire your spirit. Unfortunately, spirit isn't something that is tolerated around here."
"The other night?" She blinked in confusion.
"You've been unconscious for two nights now since our little encounter. You must be starving."
Her stomach grumbled as if it had heard his words. No food in the last 48 hours? Oddly, she could not think of a single thing that would sate her hunger, except…
Blood.
"No!" she screamed out. "Why would I think such a horrible thing?"
He looked down at Emma knowingly, an amused look on his face. "What's so horrible, Dove?"
"Blood. I need…blood. No, what am I saying? I must be going crazy after hitting my head. No! That can't be it either. I am asleep in my apartment, snuggled beneath my warm blankets, dreaming this awful nightmare. That means YOU can't hurt me!" She jumped up and shoved past him, and began walking in circles, willing herself to awaken.
He watched her mull things over. After a few moments he began to grow impatient. "You will pass out again if you don't feed soon. Besides," he smirked, "if you are only dreaming, what could it hurt?" He would play her little game for now. Once she had her first taste, once her transformation was complete, she would know this was no simple dream world. Soon after she would have strength back enough to begin her rigorous training.
Nightmare or no, she knew he was right. She had to give into her cravings. If not she would either pass out or go insane, whichever came first. Emma looked over her shoulder at him distrustfully. "What do I need to do to get rid of this feeling?"
Her captor pulled a knife that had been sheathed at his side. He pressed the sharp edge of it against his wrist's fine skin and dragged it slowly across. The blood beaded and began to flow freely. "Drink," he instructed, lifting the open flesh to her pink lips.
As squeamish as she was at the site, she was unable to stop herself from running her tongue across her bottom lip. Emma's mind left her at that point and harsh fangs erupted from her mouth. She dug them into the open wound, making it even deeper. She sucked savagely, famished from lack of sustenance.
"Drink my pet, for you have a long journey ahead of you." He groaned in immense pleasure and lifted his face towards the ceiling, holding her head in place against his forearm.
The blood pooled around them. Little did Emma know that she would soon rouse from the cherry liquid's influence, filled with more loath and regret, as well as ecstasy and bliss, than she had in her entire life.