I was a normal, happy baby-or at least, that's what everyone thought. Born just a few days ago, I was full of life and cries that echoed through the hospital halls.
"Wahhhhhhh!" I wailed, my tiny voice filling the room.
"Shh, don't cry, my love," my mother cooed, laughing softly as she rocked me in her arms.
Everything felt so blissfully normal. We were leaving the hospital that night, heading to my new home. But even as a newborn, things weren't as normal as they seemed. My father wasn't an ordinary man-he was the number one mafia boss in across the ciry Our departure wasn't just a happy ride home; it was a carefully orchestrated mission. My parents had to be extra cautious because my father had enemies everywhere, enemies who would do anything to hurt him-including hurting me.
That night, everything changed.
My family was driving through the dimly lit streets, my tiny body curled up in my mother's arms, sleeping as if I were dead. My parents laughed quietly because I was snoring like a rabbit, so innocent in my slumber.
Then, the car screeched to a stop.
My father tensed, his instincts sharp. He stepped out of the car with his two bodyguards to check, and suddenly-gunshots erupted in the night.
Panic. My mother's face turned pale, her grip tightening around me. She was terrified, her heart pounding louder than the chaos outside. My father burst back into the car, his face set in grim determination. Without a second thought, he told the driver to take us to safety.
We sped through the dark streets, my father guiding us to a safer place. I was still asleep, unaware of the danger, while my father shielded us both, his mind focused solely on protecting me and my mother.
When I woke up, I wasn't crying, just blinking in confusion at the unfamiliar place. My father looked at my mother, his voice steady but full of urgency.
"Take care of her. Don't let anything happen to her," he said.
That was the last thing I remembered from that night. The next thing I knew, we were back at the hospital.
(Ugh, this hospital again...)
I was safe, but my father wasn't as lucky. He had been injured during the ambush and had to be treated. My mother took me home to our mansion-a sprawling estate filled with grandeur, security, and secrets.
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Four years later...
I had grown into a cute, healthy little girl. Adorable by anyone's standards, I had the perfect life-or so it seemed. But my life wasn't ordinary. I wasn't allowed to leave the mansion, not even to play outside. Grass was something I rarely touched. My father, overprotective and haunted by his enemies, kept me locked away like a princess in a gilded cage.
I loved the color pink and had everything I could ever want, except freedom. There was, however, one strange thing about me-I was unusually drawn to the sight of blood.
Despite my father's protection, I was sent to a prestigious, elite school. It was a place for rich kids, where I was meant to blend in, but I never did.
One day, in the midst of an argument with a classmate, something unexpected happened. I was angry, and before I knew it, I had pushed her down. She cried out, but that wasn't enough for me. I bit her, sinking my teeth into her skin. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, and I... liked it. I liked it more than I should have.
She screamed, but I didn't stop. I drank. Her blood was sweet, warm, and I couldn't resist the temptation. I was lost in the sensation, my body craving more. She cried harder, but it didn't faze me.
I kept drinking until she stopped moving.
By the time the teacher rushed in, it was too late. My classmate lay lifeless on the ground, her body pale and cold. The taste of blood lingered on my lips, and I stood there, calm.
It wasn't my fault, I told myself. I was simply... enjoying it.
Our parents were called in, and the room was thick with fear. But then, something shocking happened-something that no one, not even my father, could have anticipated.
To be continued...
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