Heartless (Book 1: Heartless and Revived series)

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 1

My name is Seth Marie Jackson. I am 16 years old. Make sure you add another thousand years to that. I was born in 1006.

I was born into a family of five. Which consisted of my parents, my oldest brother Easton, my half-brother Nick, and me. The youngest.

We lived in a small village in Northern Europe. During the year 1007CE, the population consisted of only 3,000 people.

My father was a warrior in the village. His whole life was dedicated to fighting for the village. He never felt fulfilled protecting only his family,

My mother was a stay-at-home mom. She dedicated her whole life to loving and taking care of us. My mother's whole world revolved around us.

We were her sun and she was the death.

My parents were always the light of my life. I always looked at my father as my protector.

My life for the first fifteen years was a dream. I felt like the happiest girl in the world.

I would get up, spend time with my family, and repeat. I felt safe. I felt loved. I felt cherished like all children should.

I thought I had the most perfect life. I did have the most perfect life. Until my sixteenth birthday.

My dad always told us stories about wolves but we never believed him because it sounded absolutely insane.

A couple of nights after my sixteenth birthday, my village was attacked.

My father swore it to be a wolf. He became obsessed with trying to find a way to stop these creatures.

One night he came home saying that he found something.

He told my mother that it was something that would make us powerful enough to end the attacks in our village.

He held it up and said that it was vampire blood.

In order for it to work we had to die with it in our systems.

My mother agreed with him. She always agreed with him no matter what. Nick agreed as well. He always kissed my father's ass.

Easton was scared and so was I but we trusted him. So we did it. We had no choice. We were kids only trying to obey the orders we were given.

We drank the blood and then my father killed us. He took turns individually sliding a bare knife across each one of our throats.

The most traumatizing thing in my life was watching my brothers be killed right in front of me by my own father. The father that was supposed to protect.

That was the moment, I stopped looking at my father the same. The moment I looked up at him as he slit my throat with a look of no remorse.

When I woke up, I was starving. My throat burned, my head hurt and my teeth were extremely sore.

The first person I saw was a woman in our village. She was gardening. I remember walking up to her.

I could hear her pulse in her neck and I remember killing her. The saddest part was that it felt good. It made me feel good.

Once my brothers and I started we could never stop. My father ended up training us like soldiers. Not only to control our hunger but to be able to fight against the wolves.