Swapped

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Taking a break from another one shot for this one, the idea has been stuck in my head for a few days now. (Also: the other one shot is going to be well over 6k words, but probably less than 10k. Not sure about this one.)

This one, uh, gets dark.

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RPOV

I stared at my hands, my mind too full and also too empty to do anything else. They looked wrong. Too dark, and too fuzzy. Everything looked too fuzzy now. If I had to guess, it was kind of like when someone with glasses took them off. I wished my problem was that I needed glasses.

I didn't know how long I sat there, a curtain of hair blocking out everything but my hands and my lap that they were resting in. As absorbed as I was, it was impossible to miss his presence, even if I couldn't see him, and I found myself speaking for the first time since I was put here, "Get out." My voice was raspy, my throat sore. I wasn't sure if it was from the screaming, crying, or dehydration.

"Rose we-" I was a little surprised to hear a strong Scottish accent instead of a Russian one. Apparently, there was one way to get my mother's attention. 

I looked up, not bothering to brush my hair of out my eyes. And still, my eyes locked onto his, "Get. Out."

I vaguely noted the other two newcomers looking at him, but I refused to give into my body's urge to look away. I could feel myself getting more and more upset, despite the instinct that told me to stay quiet and small. I didn't wait for a reaction from any of them before I launched myself off the bed and at the bars that separated us, "GET OUT OF HERE!"

My sudden motion and fury got them to react. One of the dozen other guardians surrounding my cell escorted him out while the others pulled their stakes and I could feel myself deflate. I returned to the bed, crossing my legs under myself.

I wasn't sure how long it took for my mother to compose herself, but when she spoke, it was softer, and some of the Scottish-ness had been tamed, "Rose we just wanted to make sure you were okay."

I laughed, but the hollow sound felt foreign, "Okay? I don't think I'll ever be able to use that word again."

I glanced at her face. She was making no attempt to hide the emotions flying across her face, but I could no longer put a name to any of them. I shook my head, my old coping mechanisms coming easy to me, "You know, they teach us all about Strigoi in school. How they're full of bloodlust and anger and nothing else. I wish it had been that easy. If it had just been bloodlust and anger then maybe I could have dealt with it. But it's so much worse than that. The other emotions are still there, mostly. But everything about them feels dark and twisted. 

"Spirit users have it easy. If they go insane, they end up in a padded room or a cell. I went insane and killed- what? Hundreds? Thousands? I lost track after the first week. I can still remember their faces though. I liked seeing the pain and fear in them before I killed them. I loved when they fought back because it made the prize taste better. But I also hated it because it usually meant that blood was going to end up on the pavement instead of in my throat."

I took a moment to look at my mother, her face had formed into a single emotion. One I actually could identify: pain. I looked away. "You guys shouldn't have wasted your time. I don't know how Lissa did it, but she shouldn't have. I'd be better off dead."

I could feel stares on the back of my head. She didn't know what to say and I didn't blame her. After all, what did you say to your daughter who had been a Strigoi for the past three and a half months? I wondered if Hallmark had a card for that.

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I don't think I had any visitors for a few days after that. It was hard to keep track of the time, but I tried to keep track of when they shoved trays of food through the bars of the cell. I barely ate any of it, but I wasn't too concerned. I kind of doubted they were going to let me live for very long anyway.

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⏰ Last updated: Jul 18, 2023 ⏰

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