"I'm sorry," Sydney said a couple of days later when she came back into the room I was kept in with her shoulders rounded and her lips downturned.
"What are you apologizing for?" I asked her. my voice clipped and somewhat aggressive. Vincent still hadn't returned. And all alone, these last few days had felt endless, though I hadn't found myself eager for anyone's company either.
The human shuffled into the room and closed the door behind herself, socked feet sliding a little against the waxed wooden floor. She approached me and decided to sit down at the foot of the bed, not daring to touch me.
"I didn't realize– I am just trying to make the best out of a horrible situation. Do I like them? No. Do I enjoy being a pet? No. But what other choice do I have? I can't get out. So, I'd rather enjoy what I can. But what they are doing to you... what you said that Jonathan did to your boyfriend–"
"Don't," I snapped, interrupting her. I held her gaze until she looked away and then I shook my head at her, even though she wasn't seeing it. "If you wanna enjoy your time with the rapists go right ahead, that's your prerogative, but don't come to me crying and apologizing because you feel bad about it."
"I... you're thirsty," she said, switching topic so fast I was left reeling. I narrowed my eyes at her, thinking back to what Vincent had told her right before he left, and then raised my eyebrows when she moved closer while offering her wrist.
"Thanks, but Vincent won't find this amusing. I'm not drinking until he comes back," I said and closed my eyes.
She was hesitant but after a few moments, she crawled on the bed until she settled against the headboard right between me and the wall.
"I didn't know," she whispered into the quietness. "I would have fought it, if I knew."
I didn't respond to her. We sat in silence until I heard the front door downstairs open, and Vincent's voice traveled up the stairs, too low for Sydney to pick up. I tensed up and she shed me a small, weird look, but she didn't break the silence between us. Vincent said something to Jonathan and then he climbed up the stairs. With each of his steps, I twitched, unsure of what was to come.
"It's so much better now that I know you are coming," I told Vincent, even though he was still at the start of the hallway. Sydney looked weirdly at me again and tilted her head in question.
"Is it, treat?" Vincent drawled as he came down the hallway and Sydney heard that. She blinked expectantly at the door and then lowered her gaze when Vincent came into the room. "I, personally, preferred it when you jumped every time I opened the door."
I smiled disgustingly at him, "Frankly if you told me the opposite I'd be surprised."
He continued to look amused and walked further into the room, tilting his head and looking at Sydney. She kept her gaze lowered for the entirety of it, tugging and pulling her cuticles.
"You two have been talking, haven't you?" he asked, and I cooed at him sarcastically.
"Well, my mouth is still functional, so what did you expect?" I snapped at him.
"Jonathan and Eric are on dweller and pet duty, so I think it's time for Sydney's turn," Vincent said, undoing his button-up.
The human's head snapped up at the sound of that. It was clear, she hadn't been expecting it. We both watched as Vincent reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a small bolt cutter. He leaned over me and cut one of the chain links keeping my arms up by the headboard and I hissed in pain as I was finally able to move my arms. My shoulders, biceps, and forearms burned with pain as I was able to move them freely again. He threw the bolt cutters on the nightstand and nudged my legs closer to my body in order for him to sit as close to me as possible.
"Come here, Sydney," he gruffly said and pulled her by the bicep. I opened my mouth to protest his rough handling, but she didn't fight him, coming to sit on my lap facing me. There was evident fear in her eyes.
Vincent pulled her hair back and out of the way, clearing her neck for me. It was mostly red–enflamed and definitely aching. I looked at Vincent from over her shoulder. The times I had bitten a human were few and I hadn't turned one before. I knew what I had to do, but there were so many things that could go wrong. And all of them would lead to Sydney's actual death.
"Bite," Vincent said, "and don't pull your fangs out."
My eyes met Sydney's and despite her racing heart and the tremble of her lips, she nodded at me reassuringly. I bit my lower lip, bringing my shoulders to my body and not taking my eyes off hers. I didn't want to kill her.
Vincent clicked his tongue, frustrated, and he leaned forward biting into Sydney's neck himself/ He quickly unfastened his lips, not licking the wound and letting her blood run down the front and the back of her body.
It was too much; too pulling. I leaned forward and bit into the already made bite, my arms moving on their own accord to wrap around her waist and pull her further up my lap. With each mouthful of blood, I felt the ache in my arms subside. With each mouthful of blood, my anger in Vincent grew. And with each mouthful of blood, I felt Sydney's heart rate slow down.
My arms around her tightened and I was sure that if she was able to react at this point she would be fighting against my hold. I didn't pull my fangs out, leaving them far enough in her neck to push my venom inside but out enough to leave room for blood to come out. Her pulse got lower. And lower. And the last beat of her heart was deafening.
I didn't pull my fangs out. Even when there was no more blood left to hit my tongue. I didn't let go of her. Not until Vincent grabbed me by the back of my head and pulled me off her. I scowled at him when he tossed Sydney's body on the bed and my own body made a decision in the split moment when his eyes flitted to her. I started to run.
Vincent's hand was still in my hair, and I tugged away from him so harshly, that pain bloomed where my hair got ripped out. I stumbled on the floor with a half-groan and scurried all the way to the door, opening it and running out with Vincent just barely one step behind me.
Even though I hadn't seen the upper floor before, I ran down the short hallway, took a turn, and then ran once more until I reached the staircase. There was a commotion coming from downstairs, everyone would have been alerted, so I braced myself for impact, and for Jonathan and I pushed myself through the dwellers that had gathered at the bottom of the staircase, ready to please their elders. I slipped between hands and grips, punching Jonathan just once in order to disorient him enough to run. I couldn't stop to do more harm. Not if I wanted to make it out.
I didn't turn for the front door. It felt too obvious, so instead I went straight forward, heading for the kitchen and the back door that I had noticed there. As I passed in front of the front door though, a body slammed into me, throwing me to the side and into the living room. I fell onto one of the plush couches, my back hitting the arm of the couch, and despite the weight of the person that was on top of me I tried to wiggle myself free.
My knee came up to their stomach and I angled my face in order to look up at them, immediately feeling my fangs come down as I came face-to-face with Eric. His hands clasped onto my wrists, and he put weight back on his legs, hauling me upward and then throwing me to the ground. I put my hands up to break my fall, but I still made it to the floor, huffing with the impact. I crawled, in an effort to continue moving, setting my eyes onto the window that was closest to me. Breaking through the glass would be dangerous and could lead to bleeding but I didn't have another choice.
A kick landed on the side of my body and pain grew from it, spreading to my torso like wildfire. I didn't let it stop me. The kick was quickly followed up by a hand threading into my hair, grabbing a handful, and pulling me up. I clawed at the forearm that was holding me up, the panic rising within me. Each moment that passed, the window seemed to move further away from me even though I wasn't being pulled away just yet. Vincent came into view, twisting me around by the hold he had on my hair. The smile on his face was cruel and excited at the same time.
"Did you think it was going to be so easy?" he asked sweetly, and I breathed out, shuddering.
With his hand still in my hair, he brought my head down to the corner of the little side table, that in my struggle with Eric had fallen away from its place by the couch. My vision went hazy, and blood filled my mouth where I bit my tongue, my jaw going so taut I was sure I would break a tooth. Would my venom recreate a tooth if it broke and fell off? I had never asked Leander.
I felt sick –my stomach twisting– and I started trembling involuntarily. I was going to throw up. Even if there was only bile and blood in my stomach. The burn of it coming up made me curl into myself. I gave up fully on the window idea. I gave up. This had been a try. Not a successful one. Not a good one. But it had been a try. I couldn't say that I hadn't tried.
Vincent let go of my hair as I started to vomit. Bile and blood tasted horrible. Most of what came out was Sydney's blood that had not yet been absorbed by my body. I cringed but before I could move away from it, Vincent grabbed me by one of my wrists and pulled me away from the living me and up the stairs, not bothering to get me upright and dragging me up the wooden steps.
I blinked, the room spinning around me. Vincent dragged me through the hallway all the way back into the room with the baroque wallpaper and the bed that was tucked into the corner. Sydney's unmoving body was still there. I pulled against Vincent the closer he brought me to the bed, tears falling down my face due to a mix of pain and fear.
Vincent, while holding me in a death grip, opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I fought against him harder, but he still managed to easily throw me up on the bed, face-down, all while snapping one of the cuffs on my wrist. He pulled the handcuff around one of the bars of the headboard, low and close to the mattress, and snapped it shut around my other wrist.
I ignored Sydney's body. I shoved my face down on the pillow and closed my eyes. Tears started to wet the fabric. I remembered New Year's Eve, stuck in the penthouse bathroom, looking at Ezra, Keisuke, Annerose, and Leander, wincing at the loudness of the fireworks. Vincent ripped my pants off and I thought of playing rock-paper-scissors with Annerose. I thought of her laugh. I thought of the way her eyes turned to crescent moons when she smiled. I thought of her little teasing quips when we trained together. I thought of her hugs.
The more Vincent did; the more he used me the more I thought of her.
I curled into myself afterward, ignoring the throbbing in my head, the ache of my ribcage, or the soreness. My hands were still up and in the handcuffs. Vincent left leaving me alone by Sydney's body. If she woke up she would see me naked. I couldn't really feel any sort of way about that. I couldn't really feel anything.
My mind reminded me, this was how Leander had been, and at once I started crying. Sobbing, until there were no more tears left for me to cry. Until I could only hiccup and sniffle my nose.
I calmed myself by retracing my earlier steps. My head was still aching where Vincent had pushed me into the side table. The dizziness had subsided some and my ribs were starting to heal. I took in a deep breath and relaxed some as I realized they hadn't been broken.
While still on my stomach I turned my head to the side in order to look at Sydney. She looked– pale. Dead. Her eyes were closed and the lack of color on her face and lips was chilling, but unless she started to smell then she would be coming back. I really hoped she wouldn't start to smell.
After some minutes passed without Vincent coming back, I grabbed onto the headboard and pulled myself over and underneath the covers of the bed. Then, feeling a little safer I closed my eyes, but I didn't fall asleep. My senses were on high alert, picking up all the sounds in the house. Sydney's blood –even if I had lost some of it– was still running in my veins, healing me and making me more aware of my surroundings. There was no one on the second floor. There were seven heartbeats echoing from downstairs. I didn't have the energy to try and figure out what that meant.
Moments turned into minutes and then hours. When I felt like I was starting to drift to sleep, I tugged my hands down, pressing the metal into my wrists and making the pain wake me up again. I didn't need sleep– I needed to stay awake. I needed to brace myself from whenever Vincent came back upstairs.
I watched the sun come and go, glancing occasionally at Sydney's body even though I doubted she would come back within the same day. Well, she could. But Leander had once told me the older the vampire who did the turning the faster the transformation was. I was still a baby vamp. My venom was not as concentrated and potent as it could get. So, it could take her days to wake up.
Two pairs of footsteps echoed through the hallways as two people came up the stairs. I had turned myself around and was staring up at the ceiling as they got closer and closer. I couldn't exactly discern who it was, so I braced myself for the worst. I braced myself for Vincent and Jonathan.
The door opened but I didn't flinch or turn to see who it was. I kept looking at the ceiling. Whoever had opened the door shuffled further in the room, while the other person remained by the door. Their hesitation gave me pause but I didn't look away from the ceiling.
"Take the girl to one of the other rooms and leave her there to turn," Jonathan said, coming to stand by the side of the bed. "I don't need you after that," he added and touched the side of my face. The door to the room shut with a soft click and Jonathan looked away from me and to the other person with a scowl on his face.
"Okay," the other vampire replied, and the sound of that single word made my entire body stop shaking. I breathed out and turned my head to look at him. To make sure I hadn't actually lost my mind.
A soft sound escaped me as my eyes landed on Keisuke, who walked further into the room wearing a bright yellow hoodie and light-washed jeans. Jonathan's hand fell off my cheek and he turned more to Keisuke.
"Why'd you close to door for?" Jonathan asked as Keisuke stopped beside him, his face showing no sign of aggression. He had barely glanced at me, his eyes mainly focused on Jonathan, but even from the weird angle I still noticed the slight shift as he smiled at the elder. That minuscule hint of red in his eyes.
"So that it's harder for them to hear you struggle," Keisuke said lowly, and before he even got the sentence out he had pulled out a knife from the pocket of his hoodie and had driven it right into Jonathan's neck.