He's A Monster

So Cold

Danielle's Perspective POV

"None would dare to cross my surroundings, darling. So, I had to take matters into my own hands."

Vincent paused, taking a deliberate breath, his dark eyes studying me.

"See, before you met him—before you even laid eyes on my brother, Marshal, your sweet little lover boy--that summer day by the water..." His lips curled faintly, a shadow of amusement crossing his face. "I was watching you. You, my fragile little soul. So innocent... so untouched."

I stayed quiet, my sobs slowing, though tears still ran down my cheeks. My body felt impossibly heavy, as if I were chained to the sheets themselves. Cold steel bit into my wrists where cuffs held me. My heart raced with anger, fear, and disbelief.

I looked up at him, fury burning through me.

"Oh, darling, don't be angry," Vincent said, voice smooth but chilling. "I can make you feel good, too."

My eyes darted to my clothes. They were gone. In their place, a simple white fabric clung to me, torn at the bottom. My stomach twisted at the thought of him touching me. I felt exposed, vulnerable, furious at the chains hooked to the wall at my ankles. I was alone. So cold.

Vincent's voice softened slightly, almost reminiscent, as he continued. "I haven't seen my brother in ages. Last time I saw him, our mother left him alone."

"Why?" I asked, my voice harsh, dry. I didn't want to speak to him, but curiosity cut through fear.

He chuckled darkly. "Why? Oh, you're so cute. We: Marshal and I, along with our parents, we were deadly. Dangerous."

I frowned, confused.

"We would have been sent to death if people had known. Stories spread, whispers in England—children, parents... they said we destroyed lives."

Ah... the accent.

"What do you mean, stories?"

"In the harsh winter, their children, those same children, offspring of the parents who spread lies, died. Fever. Eyes bleeding in their final moments. Parents convinced we were the reason their generation perished. They couldn't accept it, couldn't allow it."

I shivered, horrified yet unable to look away.

"And... how does that explain why your... your mother left Marshal?"

But, didn't Marshall kill his parents? The rumors.. and he told me he did. 

He hissed at Marshal's name. "She didn't just leave him. She loved him. He was hers. The mommy's boy, he always was."

I noticed the venom in his tone, the way his voice dropped when he spoke of Marshal.

"I was left first," Vincent continued, his words slow and heavy. "Our mother left me on the outskirts of the town. My younger brother got her love, her attention. I... I was alone for years. Watching them. She couldn't deal with me...couldn't control me. I was too powerful."

My chest tightened, but why would Marshal kill her then?  "Wh-" I started.

"I watched as she coddled him, snuck him around, cared for him. Until our father died... but the reason for that? Not your concern."

My stomach sank. My hands trembled. Father died... but.. did Marshal lie to me?

"She left Marshal in the care of that man... Alex, or whatever he was called. Thought he would watch over her little boy. But I... I stayed where she left me. I watched Marshal grow. Watched as Alex fed him medicine to control his blood cravings, the powers. Watched him love. Watched him live."

Vincent's voice was laced with anger, frustration -- it was impossible to deny the sincerity in his tone: the truth of being abandoned. 

And in that moment, everything clicked.

The stories, the visions, the fear... If Vincent had been telling the truth about their family's dark past. Then.. it was all lies, everything. The lies Marshal had whispered to me about his parents, about his childhood, about everything, about how he killed them... they were false. 

I swallowed hard, realization settling over me like ice. My body trembled not from fear, not entirely, but from the truth I had finally seen.

Marshal is lying to me.

My breathing grew shallow. My head was ringing, and my stomach was churning with pain and hunger. Vincent's voice was almost a whisper now, and I felt it press against my chest like a weight. My heart ached and my eyes blurred as I tried to focus on him. 

Vincent's dark eyes met mine. His strong hand lifted my chin, forcing me to meet him eye to eye. My pulse raced.

"Thirsty, darling?" His tone was teasing, but the breeze brushing against us made my skin shiver.

I nodded almost mechanically, eyes glossy as the stomach churned.

He moved to fetch a glass. I tried to lift my head, hands clawing for relief. The glass was pressed to my lips.

"Drink, darling."

I coughed. "What is i--"

"Does it matter?" His lips teased the cup to my mouth. The scent was metallic, iron-heavy.

The liquid slid down my throat. My eyes closed at the strange yet intoxicating taste.

"Mmm." I shivered.

"Good, darling?"

I nodded, leaning forward for more as my eyes began to stabilize on Vincent.

"Good," Vincent said, voice low, knowing. "Because it's my blood."