The Sentinel's Conduit

| 7 | The Sins of the Father

Content Advisory: Contains sensitive themes that may be triggering. Reader discretion is advised.

◈ Celia ◈

The sound of my father's frantic packing fills the room, the zipper of his duffle bag rasping harshly in the tense silence. I watch him through the blur of tears, my heart pounding in my chest. It's as if there's a heavy weight pressing down on my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

"Dad, where are you going? You can't just leave!" My voice is raw, cracking with desperation.

He doesn't look at me, his movements jerky and uncoordinated as he shoves clothes and essentials into the bag. "I have to go, Celia. I have to run." His voice is strained, laced with a fear that sends chills down my spine.

Go? Go where?!

He's moving before I can ask, and I follow him as he makes his way to the back of the mansion, towards the church's vans, my bare feet slapping against the cold concrete. The night air is chilly, raising goosebumps on my flesh, the wind whipping my hair around my face.

"Please, Dad, stop! We can figure something out. The Sentinels will protect you!" I'm grasping at straws, my mind racing to find a solution, any solution, that will keep him here, keep him safe.

He stops, turning to face me, a grim look on his face. "You don't understand, Celia. The Sentinels will turn against me once they find out what I did. There's no coming back from this."

His words strike me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs, and suddenly weakening my knees. I know he's right. I know that the betrayal he's committed is unforgivable. Still, I can't accept it. I can't bear the thought of losing the only parent I have left.

The metal of the van's backdoor is cold against my skin as he slides it open, tossing his bag inside with a heavy thud that echoes in the stillness of the night. Then he turns to me, pulling me into a tight hug, his arms trembling around me, his heart beating frantically against my cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Celia. I've failed you. I've failed everyone." His voice is muffled against my hair, thick with emotion, and I can feel his tears dampening my scalp.

I cling to him, my own tears soaking into his shirt, the fabric rough against my face. "Daddy, please don't leave me here alone." I sound like a child, small and scared, but I can't help it. I can't imagine facing this nightmare without him.

He pulls back, his hands cupping my face, his thumbs brushing away my tears. His eyes are glistening, his smile sad and resigned. "You're not alone, sweetheart. God is always with you. And if I stay, you'll be in trouble too. I can't let that happen."

The finality in his tone, in the way he turns and slides the van door shut, is like a knife to my heart, twisting painfully in my chest. He starts moving around the van, and I follow, like a lost little puppy, gravel crunching beneath our feet.

I'm going with you.

The words sit at the tip of my tongue, but just before I can voice them, the shadows suddenly come alive. I see them before I can register it, people dressed in black emerging from the darkness like wraiths.

I barely have time to scream, the sound tearing from my throat before one of them swings a bat, the wooden surface connecting with my father's head with a sickening crack. He crumples to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

"Dad!"

I lunge forward, a wordless cry ripping from my chest. But before I can reach him, a pair of strong hands grab me, yanking me back. A blinding pain explodes across my face as someone backhands me, the taste of my blood flooding my mouth.

The world tilts, spinning in a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors until it all fades to nothing but darkness.

And the last thing I see, the last memory I have of my father, is his motionless form, his eyes staring sightlessly at the star-strewn sky.

◈

I drift back to consciousness slowly, the throbbing in my head a dull persistent ache. A groan erupts from the back of my throat as I shift on the cold, hard surface beneath me, leaching the warmth from my body, leaving me shivering and disoriented.

What happened?

I try to move, to sit up, but a jolt of pain shoots through my shoulders. My head tilted back, my hazy gaze traces my arms to the shackles locked on my wrists, the metal cuffs biting into my skin, attached to chains bolted to the ceiling, rattling and clanking with every movement.

Where am I..?

I blink, trying to clear my vision as I attempt to swallow the dryness in my mouth through the throbbing in my cheek. The coppery taste of blood lingers on my lips, and I wince at the stinging sensation as I run my tongue over them, the memories of the blow that knocked me out flooding back in painful clarity.

Dad...

Something cold and wet drops onto my waist, and I look down, a gasp catching in my throat as I take in the sight of my own body. Bruises mar my skin, dark and mottled, standing out in stark contrast to my pale flesh. And with a sinking sense of horror, I realize that I'm completely naked, my dress and underwear having been stripped away, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.

Every inch of my body aches, a deep, throbbing pain that seems to radiate from my very bones. But it's the soreness between my legs, the sharp, tearing sensation that brings tears to my eyes, that makes the bile rise in my throat.

Oh, God...

I don't need to see the fingerprint-shaped marks on my hips and thighs to know what happened, to know that I was violated in the most intimate way possible while I was unconscious, unable to fight back or even scream.

A sob wrenches from my chest, tearing at my throat, bouncing off the damp, moldy walls of my prison. I cry for help, my voice hoarse and ragged, barely recognizable to my own ears.

There's no answer, no sign that anyone can hear me, that anyone is coming to save me.

Then, I feel it: a gust of frigid air that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand. I look up, my heart stuttering in my chest, as a figure emerges from the shadows, a man with eyes that glint like obsidian in the flickering torchlight.

He moves with a grace that's almost unnatural, his footsteps soundless on the stone floor. And as he draws closer, I can see the cruel twist of his lips, the predatory gleam in his gaze.

I've never been this close to a vampire before, but somehow, I know with an instinct what he is, the aura of power and danger rolling off him in waves.

"W-Who are you?" I whisper, my voice trembling, barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

He crouches down, his fingers icy as they grip my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. They're a deep, fathomless black, no hint of humanity or mercy in them. And when he speaks, his voice is like velvet, smooth and seductive and utterly terrifying.

"Soon to be your maker," he purrs, his fangs glinting in the dim light.