Torment & Struggle (A Blood & Lust Novel)

Chapter Two

    As I tried my best to fall asleep, for some unknown reason, I found myself thinking of about all of my previous incarnations. I could faintly recall each, and every one of them. Their faces appearing behind my eyelids like a slideshow every time I blinked. And no matter how much I’ve tried, I just can’t seem to get the slideshow to stop.

    Blink.

    Elizabeth, the first of my incarnations, came, with her long red hair, pale skin, and bright emerald green eyes. She was wearing the same cream-colored dress I saw her in, when I was in that mystical world. From what I’ve been told, she is the first to cross paths with Draco in the early eleventh century England, and the first one to die at the hands of Lilith and her coven.

    It was there, when the picture of Elizabeth began to turn into a movie, and I was the third party observer, as I watched the scene unfold before me.

    Elizabeth was walking through the crowded streets of London, looking frustrated as she browsed through the shops. Her red hair was wrapped in a tight bun, and she was wearing a worn but clean dress. She had just picked up some fruit to observe if they’re fresh when I saw a familiar figure bump into her, causing her to drop her basket full of bread.

    “I’m sorry madam.” He said, his tone apologetic.

    She shook her head. “No, it’s my fault.” She said.

    Then, they looked at each other, and…they just couldn’t seem to look away.

    “What is your name, miss?”

    She swallowed. “Elizabeth Wilde, and who are you, sir?”

    He bowed, like a gentleman, before taking her hand, and kissing it briefly. “Draco Feliciano.” He murmured.

    It was there, in the middle of a busy, eleventh century street in London, I’d watch the very first meeting that had started it all. I was more than glad to watch how it all began, but I couldn’t help but feel a little weird about it.

    I tried not to dwell on it.

    Blink.

    The long brown hair belonging to Ruth appeared, with her dark brown eyes appearing to look distant. She was wearing a pale yellow dress, similar to Elizabeth’s. I remembered when she told me the story of her family, living in Salem with her father, and her little brother, Jasper, having to take care of him after her mother had died. I also remembered how her life had changed dramatically on the year, 1692. When she met Draco, having to be accused of being a witch, and though she was found innocent, Lilith and the others had convinced the town otherwise.

    Just simply recalling the story Ruth had told was simply appalling, considering what she’s been through—what I’ve been through—she could’ve rebelled, but she knew better. And for her silence she remained innocent until the end.

    Blink.

    This time, Agatha had appeared, this time with a pale pink dress, with her waist length dirty blond hair, and hazel eyes. I clearly remembered when she told her story, like Ruth, she too lived in Massachusetts, only on a farm outside of Boston, and in the late sixteenth century.

    Strangely, I could even picture how her death happened, and what Lilith and the others did with her body afterwards. Using the superb timing they had, they’d placed Agatha’s corpse in the middle of downtown Boston, right after the British Army had killed many innocent people during the Boston Massacre. The city, and her family had already believed that she was at the wrong place at the wrong time when it occurred, but somehow, Draco knew otherwise.