Feeder
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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing1h 11m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Sep 18, 2021
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Fiction
Paranormal
When I was younger, I would go by the name Sophia, long before the abuse and blood taking started, and long before this life was forced on me. Sophia was just a child, but I am old enough now to understand and know better. I was once Sophia, but having a name seems so personal. Having a name means that this is real, this is something I cannot escape from. Having a name means I matter, but outside of these four walls, I don't even exist. Only my blood does, travelling in the back of a chilled transport truck in a town or city that I will never get to see. Now I only go by the title O293f, or O positive #293 female in their technical terms. If I'm lucky, I even get a cute nickname like 'useless bitch', or my personal favourite 'whoring blood bag!' Sophia is dead and has been for years. I've started to pray that O293f dies too. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ O293f knows nothing of the world outside of the cage in which she is kept. Nothing she has belongs to her. Her body, soul, and blood are all controlled by Eran; the proud owner of the Black Goblet, Arkseanne's most popular feeder farm. O293f is just another number in the millions of humans who are enslaved to feed the creatures that need blood to survive. O293f wants nothing more than the suffering to end, that is until the day a vampire walks into the Black Goblet; one who will change her life. She just wants to live, find herself, and be free of the cage that she spent so long confined to. But through love and loss, betrayal and torment, and the world seemingly working against her, is that even possible for a girl who was only created to bleed for the benefit of others? [Trigger Warning] abuse, strong language, violence, s/a, death, suicide, slavery, mental illness.
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Before I knew it my shirt was torn away from my torso and tossed on the floor, Charlie's doing the same. Our kiss intensified and I felt him groan against my lips. I swear to god, this boy is making out with me like his life depends on it! And that's when reality punched me in the gut... the words 'this boy' kept running through my head over and over again until it got through the thick fog of vodlka and whatever else was in those stupid drinks. I, Ace Loughty, was kissing a guy. A fucking guy. A fucking straight guy named Charlie Simmons who of course had to be one of the most popular dickheads in Meadow Ridge High. I am so unbelievably fucked. ----- 17 year old Ace Loughty was never one longing to be in the spotlight. In fact, he craved the exact opposite: being left alone. When Ace was 13, the tragic death of his younger sister Eleanor caused him to rapidly gain popularity and pitiful looks. He hated the attention. All of a sudden everyone wanted to be friends with the dead girls brother, they'd promise Ace he would never be alone that they would always be there for him, which he of course knew was untrue, they're all just hungry for attention. Sometime later the school moved onto other drama and gossip, things started to die down and people finally left Ace alone. He moved on with his life, convincing himself he was over Eleanor's death and as quick as the whole thing started, he returned to being lonely, weird, quiet nobody Ace. Just how he liked it. That is until 4 years later when he found himself sprawled out on a bed. With Charlie Simmons hovering over him. Charlie Simmons who was kissing Ace like he would die if he ever dared to stop. Which was all too true. Without kissing Ace, Charlie was as good as dead. *WARNING*: This story will contain themes of severe depression, suicide, abuse and somewhat graphic depiction of self harm. If any of these things may trigger you please rethink reading this story!! Started: January 21st 2020

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