Lord Motte's Vampire Bride - Version 1

The Cell

I awake abruptly, instantly inhaling as harshly as if I were drowning. I felt like I had come up for air just in time before the point of death; but in reality, it's likely just panic taking its course.

I swivel my sore neck around the room, weeping at the sight of cold, stone walls, and not the dingy motel wallpaper I had been hoping to wake up to. I tug at the chains that held down my wrists and look down helplessly at the chair I was tied to.

I look around the room for the dark eyes I came face to face with before I fell into unconsciousness, and am thankful to find no one at all. I am utterly alone.

I count my breaths and thank the stars he had left me unattended. If I can break free of this...there's a chance I could find my way out. There are hundreds of windows in this place. There's bound to be at least one that would be a decent exit.

I tug at my wrist restraints until my wrists are lined with a red sore welt. I groan loudly in frustration. Why did the bastard have to use chains? Who just has those lying around anymore? Clearly...a centuries-old monster who likes to keep things old-fashioned.

I could try tipping the chair over and drag myself to freedom, but I can't even begin to count how many issues there are with that plan.

I simply begin to stare at the stone wall as I begin to accept the predicament.

I can't even process my fear any longer. All I can feel is the anger rushing through me at a hundred miles an hour. The power of the adrenaline coursing through my veins, giving me the courage to at least try.

I scream at the top of my lungs for so long, I started to think my vocal cords might stop working. By the end of it, my throat felt too hoarse to utter another sound at all.

I sat breathless, and voiceless in the cell he had confided me in. At best, the cranky old desk lady might think it'd be oddly suspicious if I don't return. She might call the cops and they might look for me, but I doubt they'd ever look here.

Who am I kidding? The lady wouldn't give a rats ass. She'd only assume both Jasmine and I were ripping her off just to spite her. Though...how could that be plausible when I left everything behind and my credit card? Hopefully she isn't a complete idiot and she realizes something must be going on.

I crinkle my brow and lean over in the chair. I'm too exhausted to put up a fuss anymore. No one will ever find me. No one will call me. Not even my mother. I don't even have a cell phone anymore even if they wanted to get a hold of me. I have no friends, no acquaintances except my frequent employers who never expect to hear much from me. 

I conclude my only hope besides the oblivious, angry desk lady is the newspaper I promised the parade pictures to. I don't know the owner well, but I've worked for him several times without fail. I'm never late, I never provide anything below his expectations. If I don't show, he has to think its odd.

I groan to myself as I try to come to a conclusion on how much time has passed. A half an hour? A few hours? A whole day? Hopefully it hasn't been too long yet. Pretty soon I won't show with the pictures and he might call the hotel I said I was staying at.

Please, dear God. Please, someone care enough to call.

I let the fear wash itself out of me and I let myself relax in the chair for a brief moment. It isn't long before I let loose some regretful tears. Regret for the foolish life I had allowed myself to live. A life where I haven't a single person who cares for me, who knows how to reach me or look out for me.

Of course, I never expected to have this happen to me...but even so. Who would show at my funeral? My mother out of pity if she outlives me? Oh, stupid of me to even consider a funeral right now. No one will ever find my body. No one will ever find me.

There are two different ways this ends if the legend is true...and so far it appears to have been correct in every detail.

I can either be killed when Lord Motte doesn't find me worthy, or I prove myself to be worthy and he allows me to live as his property and Vampire Bride.

Neither option ends with an escape. I will never walk out of here.

I let out a desperate, self-pity, sob. I will never get to hug my mother again, the mother I took for granted. The mother I left behind to pursue absolute nonsense.

Multiple IDs to just for the hell of it? What kind of phase is that? Are you kidding me, Cynthia?

It's never been anything dramatic. I never robbed a bank and needed to throw off the police. I never became a spy or a secret detective. I'm barely even a criminal. Not a proud one anyway. All I do is launder. Scams. I've had my hand in nearly everything, never sticking to anything in particular in fear of getting caught. The IDs gave me a fake security that they would never be able to track me down. Even better, my own mother didn't even have a number or address for me.

No one does.

I don't have an address. I never will.

I let the sobs fly out pitifully as I listen to the approaching footsteps. My doom will be served to me on a platter soon, and I have nothing worthy about me.

He will kill me.

Because I have nothing to live for.