What Lurks in Her Eyes

Chapter Five: Fear is a Liar

But for whatever reason, she can't bring herself to do that. To let go of hope.

So as Anya lays broken in her cell, she is soon to find out just how significant she is how time passes. Her existence is destined to change the world.

* * *

Her cage was dark and cold. Her breaths were labored and her naked body showed off the ribs that jutted out painfully from her skin. The lines of her ribs were frail and seemed as if they could shatter with each fragile breath she took.

Her hip bones dug painfully into the wire floor, bruising her sickly pale skin. She was nothing more than a bag of bones with her loose skin hanging off of her body. She barely had the strength to stand, and it wasn't unusual for her to topple over when she stood at her full height of five foot six.

Her hair was once a rich auburn color, but now it was nothing more than a thin, scraggly mess on the top of her head that skims the tops of her shoulders.

This was the horrible truth of starvation.

She has been starved for blood for nearly three whole months now. Vampires can live a long time without blood, but if they go without it for too long, they can end up in a comatose-like state.

They aren't subject to death as they are immortal beatings, but perhaps it is worse to suffer for eternity than to suffer and eventually die.

So she wishes death would cover her with its cold blanket.

But she knows that is merely a fantasy in which she cannot achieve.

Other vampires were stacked on top of her. She could hear their silent groans of pain and she could feel their tears dripping upon her back, since their cages were wire, even on the bottom.

She passes out several times throughout the day, but soon awakes to the darkness around her. She was being sold.

Again.

She, like all the other hundreds of vampires in the dark warehouse where the location is unknown, are being shipped across the country on the other side of Russia.

Slaves in transit are always stored in warehouses that are all dark, cold, damp, or a nasty combination of the three.

Several large cattle trucks roll into the lot early that down. Anya knows the drill, and does her best not to cause any trouble. She doesn't react when cold silver cuffs are placed around her ankles. She doesn't react when she is yanked out of her cage, causing her to face plant into the mud and feces below her.

And she doesn't react when the vampire in front of her is driven to her knees and beheaded for snapping at the werewolves.

At least she's free now.

At least she won't suffer anymore.

Anya can barely walk, and with the added weight of the chains she is bound in, she nearly falls to the ground with each painful step. The vampires, male and female alike, are chained together so that they march in one long, straight line.

The rule of the march is cruel.

Step or fall out of line, and the vampires will be immediately beheaded or staked through the heart.

Why that is, Anya doesn't have a clue. Perhaps it's to instill more fear of the werewolves in the vampires.

Some vampires purposely choose to step out of line, so that they may die. Many vampires willingly choose eternal death over living in these conditions.

But for Anya, hope is what keeps her alive. Those golden eyes mesmerized her so much that for once in her two hundred years of life, she felt hope swell in her chest. She wasn't quite sure why that was the case, and all she knew was that clinging to a little bit of hope, is what fuels her to keep living.

Keep surviving.

So her chains rattle in the darkness with each agonizing step. Her teeth grit together and her bones seem to creak with instability like an old mansion covered in dust and long forgotten in the dark woods.

The merchandise are loaded up onto steel cattle trucks that offer no protection from the frozen elements. Of course, vampires are a lot more hardy than humans, even when they're mere skin and bones.

But the cold does take a tole on the weak eventually.

But for the vampires, the last thing they are worrying about is the cold that seems to tear them to shreds.

Because all that is on their minds is their new homes. Their new masters. The new set of rules they must memorize. It's a never ending cycle every slave must repeat. Masters find enjoyment in trading their slaves and selling them for profit.

Rarely do slaves stay with the same master for more than a year.

Anya huddles into the back corner of the semi truck. Her bare, bruised back is pressed against the open holes of the truck. It's snowing out, and her hair seems to be little ice-cycles clinging to her head.

Her skin is turning blue from the subzero temperatures. Her teeth chatter painfully, her gums are still sore from the last fang ripping she had faced just last week.

The truck soon comes to an abrupt halt at the doorstep of the town where weekly auctions are held. Her head smacks into the steel walls of the truck and warm blood runs down her forehead, thawing her frozen skin.

She shivers and shakes.

This time, though, not because of the cold.

But of the fear that has pounced on her once more, whispering lies into her ears. And this time, the lie spoken from his desperate mouth is, you're not strong enough to put up the fight to be free.

Her shoulders sag in discouragement, because she believes every lie spoken.

Because fear, he is a liar.