Unmasked | Book 1 in "Dark Descendants" (Editing)

Chapter 0

Yo, skip to 40 seconds into the video. It's a bunch of unnecessary non-song stuff.

~Rose

*almost a year later*

I rested my hand on the smooth concrete wall, peeking around the corner. I had no idea how or why I was here, I just knew that I was. Last night upon falling asleep, I dreamed of this very place. And then I had woken up here, every single detail identical to the building in my dream.

Loud shouts and softer, more insane whispers filled the air everywhere, definitely looking and sounding exactly like how a mental institute should sound.

Yes, I was in a mental institute. Where crazy people are carelessly tossed into. Splotches of blood stained the old, faded wallpaper in various areas as if someone had purposely banged their head against it countless times. It seemed as if this building was centuries old, or at least unfinished construction, since there was a lack of staircases and proper flooring to many of the higher floors.

There were numerous cells in here that made up a majority of the institute, holding mostly men who gripped the bars, either watching me soundlessly or pleading me to let them out as I passed. And despite all these disturbing things around me, I was as cool as a cucumber as I tried to find my way out.

If I was found wandering around the institute like this, the guards would think I was just one of the prisoners and would have thrown me into one of those dirty, bloody cells without thinking twice about it. Hell, some of these rooms had thick metal doors with a barely transparent glass window. Heavily barricaded. They'd probably put me there.

Presently I leaped across a gaping ditch in the floor. I told you there was a lack of proper flooring.

I lifted myself to my feet and took another look around. This side of the asylum was slightly more silent, aside from the echoing screams from the previous cells.

I briefly wondered what caused them to be thrown into here. Mental condition? Suicidal thoughts? Or just words of absolute yet crazy truth that no one believed?

I was broken out of my thoughts when I heard another shout. Except this one came from a man outside the cells. His deep, jagged voice rose the fine hairs on the back of my neck. "Hey! What are you doing here? Huh?!"

He was actually the first thing in this place that stirred an emotion inside me. Fear.

I know, many of you would be thinking, "But you're a vampire! Just eat him already!" But the thing is, not all vampires continuously crave human blood. He was a big dude, it sure didn't look like he's taste good anyway. And I was still tired, I hadn't drank human blood for a while and that diminished my senses for the time being. I wouldn't be able to take him down unless I really wanted to. And I didn't. I don't enjoy killing humans, even if it's to defend myself.

He was advancing quickly, his long strides eating up the distance so that in no time, he had closed the distance and started throttling me. His grip was surprisingly strong and had me actually struggling to get out of his hold.

"You think you're some piece of candy, don't you?" He yelled at me, bringing my face closer to his. His face was horribly scarred and he reeked of blood and death. I supposed he was the one who kept the "prisoners" here in order. "You think you can break out of my institute?!"

I couldn't answer him even if I wanted to, mostly because his big hands were locked around my windpipe. My own hands clawed at his, trying desperately to overcome his hold. My eyes bulged out and, I'm sure, my veins too.

I don't think he realised, though, that we were right next to another cell. Very close. Inside it seemed all shadows.

And as I still fought with the man, I vaguely noticed an arm shoot out through the bars and grab his neck.

Scars mirrored my expression and let go of me as he was practically dragged towards the bars. His back was slammed against them. Hard.

Way too hard to be human.

I gasped for breath during this, gently rubbing the healing bruises on my neck as I watched the scene unfold. The mystery supernatural was right behind the bars, the silhouette of his head at the man's ear, still holding onto him with a firm grip while his other hand was tightly around one of the long, filthy bars. Scars looked terrified and seemed to hyperventilate.

I almost smiled. Yes, it was cruel. But it was nice to see someone who caged all these people and non-people and tried to kill me to be afraid of his own prisoner.

He slammed Scars against the bars again, until he started coughing up blood, and then roughly shoved him away. Scars stumbled back, screaming like a lunatic, and then bumped into the metal railing when the mysterious man sent a punch to his face.

It wasn't a long distance between the cage and the railing—barely a meter, so it was easy for him. It caused Scars to back into it, then do some wild death flip over it as he toppled backwards and fell to the ground three floors down, screaming the whole way. Until he went splat on the ground, obviously. I even looked down at him. And man, was it messy.

A rattling from behind me caused me to look over my shoulder, back at the man who caused his death. I could see his face now, and just by looking at him I knew he was thrown into here for no valid reason. He wasn't mental, not one bit. Nor was he human.

He had torn the key away from Scars' neck while slamming him and now, as he held up by its chain, his black eyes glittered in excitement.

Oh no...

"Hey." Those eyes landed on mine. I stiffened, struggling not to stutter, "—I don't think you should..."

He unlocked the cell from the outside and swung the door open. Stepping out, he lowered his head to look at me directly, still maintaining eye contact. His skin was covered in patches of dirt and his clothes—a torn sleeveless white shirt and a pair of black jeans—looked just as dirty. Yet that didn't distort his inhuman beauty one bit.

His short black hair was tousled as well, a few strands hanging on his forehead. I saw his arm muscles flex as his fist clenched. He didn't even glance at the beauty of his work.

Nope, he just stared at me. His eyes were calm, endless. And cold. He was slowly backing me into the bars of the cage, staring menacingly. They dug into my back irritably. His face was barely an inch away from mine. I felt like I had seen him before.

I swallowed, now wishing I hadn't even bothered speaking in the first place. "N-never mind."

He raised his forefinger to his lips, signalling me to quiet. I absently noted the big dark silver ring embedded on his middle finger with a deep red gem in the middle of it, wrapped in more silver. It was pretty.

I nodded at him. His face withdrew and he placed the chain in my hand, never once breaking away from my gaze. He whispered something, just two words, but it was enough to earn a little respect from me. "Free them." His voice was also deep, but unlike Scars', his sounded nice.

A line formed between my eyebrows. "Really?"

He didn't answer, but lightly squeezed my hand with the extension of the same action, before finally withdrawing. I watched as he glanced up at the roof. I followed his gaze and, with a start, spotted a dirty window.

I looked back at the empty space where he had been, hearing the squeaking noise of the window being thrown open. Once again tilting my head back, I saw it was hanging open. He had escaped and, in the process, showed me a way out.

I smiled, gently tapping the key against my hand as I slowly pivoted. Though this entire scene caused me to doubt if this was real or not. I mean seriously, dreaming about a mental institute and then waking up inside the exact same one? Then getting strangled by the equally-psycho owner?

I don't know about you, but that seemed a little too crazy to me. Or it was just the institute getting to me.