I awaken from my drowsy sleep in a cold, damp, unfamiliar room so dark I can't even see the shape of my aching body. The last thing I can recall is dancing at a bonfire in the woods with a cute boy named Devon, and drinking a little too much of the homemade whiskey.
I can vaguely remember being carried out of the party scene and to a nice open field in his arms, thinking he would walk me safely home. My family's cabin wasn't very far from where we were. His wise, caring brown eyes were my last clear vision before I completely blacked out, curled into the fetal position on the dirt.
Now, I appear to be lying on a cold, metal table, much like the ones doctors use to place hurt soldiers on to examine the full extent of their injuries. My head is pounding a severe, pulsing agony so harsh my mind can't even process the pangs of fear shooting through my body.
I notice metal restraints around my wrists, ankles, and torso, but I don't even attempt to struggle with them. Panic and adrenaline numb my senses as I realize Devon must have drugged me to bring me here. I hadn't drank but two cups of home-made whiskey and I can hold my alcohol.
He must have been leading me on and flirting with me for a month, just to kidnap me. I really do attract jerks. Faintly, I hear an echo from the corner of the room and realize I'm probably not alone in this chamber, or whatever it really is.
I sigh and wonder how I'm going to get out of this mess. My name is Ivy Anne Remington, and nineteen years old. I was born in 1426 to a young mother who got pregnant at 18. She's the sweetest woman in the world and it's impossible not to love her. I have naturally curly blonde hair and a dainty figure, and all of the boys in my village say I have to prettiest blue eyes in the whole county.
Momma has always told me that I'm a piece of work, because I'm unlike any other young girl she's ever seen, and I always manage to get myself into trouble somehow. I'm starting to think she was right. Mischief seems to follow me everywhere, and tonight's adventure seems to be no exception.
"How many?" asks a raspy voice far in the distance, making me jump. Hoping I wasn't noticed, I pretend to sleep. "One hundred and fourteen, counting the new one." Replies the voice of Devon, which used to give me butterflies, but now gives me chills.
"They're all out cold, boss." He adds. Wrong, I can't help but think.
"Great. Should we get started, then? I don't want to make my guests uncomfortable," the first voice chuckles. A chill runs down my spine as I realize I'm probably not going to live through this nightmare.
"Yes, let's start. I'm excited to see how they turn out." Devon practically sneers. I notice that I'm crying silently, and I hope no one notices. I don't want to die a coward. "Let me show you how it's done, young one." Raspy-voice says. I hear footsteps and then silence. They silence drags on for eons, due to my nervous anticipation.
A shrill, terrible scream fills the air, bouncing off of the bare concrete walls and making me cringe. The voice is that of a male, and he is in great pain. I realize these people are monsters, and wonder how I ever trusted Devon. My momma raised me right, but I will still die an untimely, unfair death tonight, due to my own stupidity.
This thought makes tears roll soundlessly down my cheeks faster. After what seems like an hour, the screaming reduces to shallow, uneven panting. I hope the man is going live, but have no idea what has been done to him. I send a silent prayer for him and myself to Jesus, hoping he's listening.
"You must remember not to drain them dry, or the venom will have nothing to mix with, and your whole effort will be a waste," Says the first speaker, his voice now sounding a lot less raspy. "Well, not a complete waste." He adds, and they both chuckle. I can't even imagine what any of this means, and I know thinking about it will only make me more afraid.
"Your turn," Says the man. I can hear Devon's footsteps growing louder. By now, everyone in the room is awake due to all of the horrendous screaming. At least fifty voices are begging for an explanation and freedom, fifty more praying quietly, and god knows how many more playing dead like myself.
This chamber must be big to hold all of these victims, and I realize we're probably not even in my village anymore. I don't hear any voices I recognize, which brings me a sliver of relief. "No, please, don't kill me!" Cries a female voice, not very far from my table. "Bethie, you're not going to die. Hopefully. You are my first." Devon purrs to the hysterical girl, laughing manically.
"Noooo! God, help meee!" Screams the girl, Bethie, apparently. Her cries for help turn into flat out shrieks of pain, and Devon actually moans. Whatever he's doing to her, he must be enjoying. What a sick, masochistic bastard. I close my eyes tight to stop my pulsing headache, and hope I'm not about to find out what that activity is.
Bethie's screams cease and I hear the other man stride over to examine Devon's work. "Now, it's just a matter of waiting," he says, obviously trying to sound wise. A second of silence passes before the man stalks his way through the room, undoubtedly seeking out his next victim. I can tell him apart from Devon, thanks to his uneven stagger.
"Sweet dreams, Bethie Rae," coos Devon in a false tone, before chuckling and stepping away. I send a prayer to Jesus for Bethie Rae, and promise him if I live through this, I will never forget her. Devon's footsteps stride past me and I relax slightly, until he stops.
An agonizing second passes where I hold my breath and hope he moves on, with no luck. The slow rhythmic footsteps grow louder, until they stop right in front of my table. I can tell he's watching me closely, and I try my hardest to appear unconscious. Seconds pass into minutes, and I feel as if I will explode.
"My lovely Ivy. How rude of me to bypass you. You are by far my favorite." His voice is right next to my left ear, and I jump at the nearness. How could he have moved up here so quietly? A cold chill runs down my spine as he observes my closed eyelids silently.
"I know you are awake, dear." He whispers into my ear, making me jump again, and I abandon my possum tactic. "Leave me be, monster," I whisper harshly as I scoot away as far as possible. I know it will do me no good, but it makes me feel a bit better. My eyes have adjusted to the dark a bit, so can glare effectively at Devon.
He is wearing a smug expression, and what appears to be blood around his lips and down his chin. I try my best to look mean and not as frightened as I really am, to no effect. He reaches out to stroke my cheek, and I don't even bother to cringe away. What good will it do?
The boy that so recently made me smile is now making me fear for my life. "So beautiful, even in distress. Once you are changed, I will keep you for myself. You will live like a queen, Ivy Anne," he purrs. Before I can protest, he is kissing me. I taste blood, and do my best to jerk away. He examines me as if I am broken, and I full out glare at him.
"Why do you not want to kiss me, love?" He asks in surprise. I glare even harder.
"You are a monster. I trusted you and liked you a lot, but you are not human. You are a monster," I bite. I then muster up every ounce of courage I have and spit in his face. If I'm going to die anyway, I might as well die brave. He wipes my saliva from his eye and gets an angry, deathly look.
"Well, your right about one thing. I'm not human, and you won't be either in a few days. You will be mine, you feisty little bitch." With that, he grabs a fist full of my strawberry blonde curls and yanks my head to the side with incomprehensible force. "Get ready for a world of pain, wench," he murmurs in my ear before moving down and gently kissing my neck. I involuntarily shiver, before feeling a sharp, stabbing pain in the left side of my neck, where I had seconds ago felt pleasure.
My world dissolves away, and I am no longer Ivy. I am just a thing, a mere being with no meaning, but pain. Millions of sharp tendrils made from electricity are shooting through my body, cutting my insides and tearing me apart. The very flames of Hell are festering inside of my body, burning up my physical entity and my soul.
My heart is beating so violently on my rib cage, just begging to be freed from this body, this chamber of Hell on Earth. I'm sure when it realizes it cannot escape, it will just explode in my chest along with the rest of my organs and innards.
Far off in the distance, I can hear screaming, and I realize it must be Ivy. Ivy... the girl I used to be. I cannot feel myself scream or cry, and I cannot even locate the source of the pain. All I know is my world is being torched by red hot agony, and I cannot stop it. No matter how much I struggle, this agony will be my last feeling and thought, before I go home to Jesus.
I sit bolt upright in a cold sweat, relieved to be back in the twenty first century. My breathing is heavy and I instinctively touch the left side of my neck to make sure the painful whelps from Devon's teeth are long gone. The memory of my transformation haunts me often, and the pain never numbs. Obviously, I never made it to Jesus that night.
The pain went on for what felt like years, and eventually all of my senses just died. My brain was a cloudy fog of nothingness, and I couldn't even distinguish what I was or where I came from. For days I laid on that table, but easily broke the chains with my newfound strength and instinct.
I could hear everything for miles, see perfectly in the dark, and it all felt natural. More than natural, actually. Like id been living wrong for nineteen years, and I'd finally gotten it right. I was on top of the world. I knew I was no longer a human, but didn't figure out my precise race for a few more days.
Every other newborn vampire in the chamber was surrounding Devon, worshiping him for their new, unexplained improvements. I, on the other hand, felt a deep resentment toward him. I frantically searched for Bethie Rae, but couldn't find her.
Luckily, I escaped the enclave before Devon could make me his pet, and learned to make it on my own, with much struggle. After an hour on my own, I began to feel suffocated. It took me two days to figure out I needed blood to survive.
To this day, I resent Devon for the pain he put me through, and will return the favor should our paths ever cross again. After that day, life as I knew it ended, and life as I know it now began. I never returned home to my family, afraid they would not accept the new me. Hell, I couldn't ask them to accept the new me when I couldn't even accept her.
I figured they would take more comfort in believing my soul was with Jesus, as theirs are now. The very last time I saw my sweet old mamma was as she was seeing me out the door for my bonfire. I still pray for her occasionally. That day, I vowed to never put anyone through the pain Devon put me and every other victim through, and have kept that promise. I will never make another vampire, as long as my immortal soul walks this earth.
Slowly, I lie back down in my bed and hope to relax myself a little, without much luck. I check my phone and realize I've slept all day. Its 9p.m. and the sun has set. With heavy reluctance, I get up to take a warm shower, and hopefully bury my nightmare in the back of my mind, where it belongs.