''Come closer and I will scream!'' His prey whimpered.
''Scream. I dare you.'' He growled.
Twenty-three-year-old Ilona Bukowski has always been fascinated by the supernatural, even when she shouldn't. This fascination takes her to Romania, where she...
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''Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me; the carriage held but just ourselves and Immortality...''
''...We slowly drove, he knew no haste, and I had put away my labour, and my leisure too, for His civility.'' Max's soft voice had been Ilona's sole companion for God knew how long now. She had lost track of time in this dark dungeon cell and to keep the pain at bay and for her own sanity she had begun reciting poetry.
''You must be far gone once you decide to quote one of the most melancholic poems ever written.'' Max commented drily and Ilona cracked a grin.
''No, that is Ozymandias.'' Ilona stated.
''You have got no taste, new girl.''
''Fuck off.'' Ilona's dry response was rewarded with a rare laugh.
''Glad to hear they have not taken your spirit.''
''Never.'' This had become Ilona's personal vow. After being thrown back into her four-star hotel room, Max had comforted her in the only way she knew how: singing, and God must have really hated her at that moment because the girl could not hold a single tune. However, it had made her feel a little bit better about her situation and she gladly accepted the torture.
They had given her two meals a day, which did not do much to quench her ever growing hunger. Most times it was porridge, water, and some bread. In the darkest moments her brain would turn against her, and she would convince herself it was all her fault and she had asked for it. Those moments were spent in complete silence and her newly acquired inner demon would take over; bound on destroying every little bit of optimism within her.
Ilona had not eaten since the day they threw her back in this hellhole, forcing herself on a hunger strike like Bobby Sands had done many years ago; protesting against Vlad and his cruelty, although she knew it was a lost battle.
She hated herself for being so foolish.
But she hated Vlad more.
And she would keep on hating him until she drew her last breath, whether that be in this godforsaken cell or back in Oxford. Her chest clenched in agony when thinking about her life. Oxford. Would she ever see that city again? Her friends- Hell, she even missed her parents and that alone had made her question her own sanity for a moment, because if she would have had access to her phone, she knew the only messages she would find were those of Eydís. Sweet, kind Eydís who always put others before herself and forgave people within a heartbeat, no matter how many times they had taken her for granted.
Most people confused Eydís' kindness for weakness but her friend had been through Hell and back and had come out swinging. Something Ilona now looked to as an example. She too would come out swinging and bellowing in victory once she tore that monster apart.
Mind you, she had never been prone to violence, but desperate times call for desperate matters.
Maybe she would take his fangs too when she left, just for good measure. What comes around goes around- a saying her grandmother loved to say to her when she was a child. Ilona heard the familiar scuffle of shackles against stone, either Max was lying down or relieving herself. These two instances were the only time one of the girls moved.
