Bloodlines

I hadn’t expected my quiet evening to turn into quite the dramatic affair that was to develop, as the night drew to a close.

That’s the funny thing about life, though, isn’t it?

We watch movies with evil villains from the future and superheroes saving alternate universes, full well knowing it’s light-years from the truth and reality we live in. My average, somewhat boring existence took a drastic turn that night, and unbeknownst to me, it would never be the same again. The new life I was to be thrown into could rival any blockbuster bestseller, with some unique and interesting characters to tell the story along the way.

At least, that’s what it felt like the day I was kidnapped.

Let’s rewind, and I’ll explain everything.

There I was, snuggled up on the sofa under my cosy feather duvet, our ginger tomcat curled in a ball at my feet, basking in the warmth from my body. England is cold in November. It maintains a generally low temperature for the best part of the year. That’s my opinion anyway, but I’d grown accustomed to the bright, sunny skies of the USA before the upheaval of relocating again.

Tonight happens to be the return of my absolute favourite television show, Dead Reckoning. I was hooked, like the majority of the population, and was eager for the long and boring lull between seasons to come to an end. It was always worth the wait, though; the directors didn’t disappoint.

“Phwoar! Look at those tight butt cheeks, Tavie.”

I hold my phone up to my ear, laughing at my best friend’s reaction to the male actor on screen. I have to admit, the guy does have a nice ass.

“Sophia,” I chuckle. “The man just shoved a knife into a zombie’s face, and you’re staring at his backside?”

Sophia Atkins has been my best friend since Mum and I moved to the United Kingdom a few years ago. We met partway through secondary school and immediately bonded, relishing in each other’s company like we’d known each other all our lives. A rare friendship indeed. She was such a refreshing change from the rest of the girls in school, who hung around in groups dependent on their fashion sense and how much mummy and daddy earned.

“Of course,” she affirms, and I smile, visualising the massive grin on her face. “Gotta get your priorities right, Tavie.”

I study the rugged man on the TV for longer than necessary.

“That’s kind of not the point, Soph. Are you even following the story?”

“Ish,” she replies sheepishly, and I have to roll my eyes at her tact. “Even covered in blood and zombie guts, that man is damn fine.”

“Sure, I guess he’s hot,” I agree, shrugging my shoulders. Sophia could talk for an eternity, especially when the topic was guys she’d like to bed.

I draw the curtains. It’s getting dark, and staring into the black nothingness of the night is making me feel uneasy.

“Did you finish tomorrow’s homework?” Sophia suddenly switches the subject.

I shake my head, even though there’s no way Sophia can see the gesture through our telephone conversation. I never understand why people do that.

“No,” I grumble back miserably. “I should probably make a start, unless I want to be up until midnight.”

“Sure,” she yawns. It’s as if the mere suggestion of sleep has made her realise she’s tired too. “I’ll catch you tomorrow then.”

As I bid her farewell, a thunderous crashing echoes throughout the walls. My mind races through a million different possibilities, all of which are negative, of course, and most ending in my ultimate demise. At moments like this, your brain never conjures up sensible, logical scenarios, does it?

Pussyfooting like a tiny mouse on the tips of my toes, I creep around the furniture, through the living room, and down the short hallway leading to the kitchen. Mum works late shifts at the hospital every Monday, so I know I’m the only one who should be in the house.

Unfortunately, that means the suspicious noise is something else, probably something completely rational, like a curious cat unsuccessfully sneaking in through the window.

Either that or someone is in my house.

“Tavie, are you there? What was that awful noise?”

I swallow the lump stuck in my throat, trying my hardest to forget the irrational thoughts. Then I open the kitchen door, leaving a gap just wide enough to fit my head through and peer inside.

In that moment, it’s as if my heart forgets to beat.

Pots, pans, and various other utensils that had been neatly stacked up by the window ledge now litter the floor below. Standing directly above them, to my utter horror, is a figure dressed from head to toe in black.

The broad silhouette exposes the man against the darkness. Since my feet have decided to root themselves to the spot, I fight to hold my breath, carefully closing the door behind me. Unfortunately, Mum chose the house based on its age and character, insisting that it would fetch a better price on the market. I never understood why it mattered, though. She promised me we wouldn’t move again.

When I apply the slightest pressure, the old door produces a horrible creak. A noise that would likely alert anyone within a five-mile radius, let alone the guy standing less than a meter in front of me. I gasp and inhale a sharp breath. His attention snaps to me, watching me through the window in his hood. He spots the phone in my hand, and I panic.

“Shit,” I mutter.

Then everything happens too quickly for me to contemplate a plan of action. I slam the door just as the guy begins bounding through the sea of cutlery and kitchenware to get to me. In hindsight, if it hadn’t been me in that situation, it probably would have made for dead funny viewing.

I race to the front door, only to discover Mum has locked me in. My spare key must be hiding somewhere, but I have no clue where. Cursing my negligence, I leg it back to the living room, impeccably timed to see my new friend in the opposite doorway. A high-pitched, dare I say it, ‘girly’ scream escapes my lips as I double back on myself. Pulling the door shut behind me, I hope it will buy me some time. What? It works in video games...

“Octavia. What the hell’s going on?!” Sophia’s voice reminds me of the phone still in my hand. I hold it to my ear.

“Soph! There’s someone in my house. Call the—”

That’s when I slip on a wooden panel that’s sticking out just enough to spell danger. All I can do is watch helplessly as I lose grip of my phone and it plunges to the floor with a dreadful clatter.

I make for the stairs, taking two at a time. It’s not until my chest hits the edge of the pine bannister that the realisation hits me. I’ve run as far as I can. I’d never live to tell the tale if I jumped from this height. The only reachable door is Mum’s study, which is always under lock and key.

The cold wood sends a shiver rippling through my body. I wait, listening. Even as my heart pounds with anxiety. I’m struggling to breathe. The man climbs the stairs, edging closer until there’s barely space between us. He’s lean, but I’m not stupid.

He’d wipe the floor with me. Most people would.

“Come on. End of the road,” his voice is deeper than I expected, and his tone slow, with a clear trace of a foreign edge. “You might as well come quietly.”

I scan the hallway. We’re separated by nothing but a tall glass vase. A quick glance below confirms my suspicions. I wouldn’t survive the fall. At the very least, bones would be broken, which would result in my untimely death, or worse. I don’t have time to think. I lift the vase and hurl it with as much strength as I can muster straight at his family jewels. Glass shatters into a thousand pieces around us, and he drops like a sack of bricks, holding his crotch and writhing about. I don’t wait for him to recover.

“You little- Dio dannato!”

I bolt down the stairs, and, because I’m a fool, I forget the loose floorboard exists for a second time. With my cheek flat against the shiny floor, profanities spew from my lips as pain blossoms through my arm that was crushed underneath my weight. I force myself to my knees.

My phone is out of reach. Even when I stretch my arm out as far as I can, my fingertips only graze the edge of the plastic case. Suddenly, a boot slams down on top of it, narrowly missing severing my fingers. I hear a sickening crack as my phone splits in two beneath the pressure.

Speechless, I look up at the phone-murdering culprit, and I’m at a complete loss for words. The guy glaring down at me is different from the one before. He has the most fascinating almond-shaped eyes. Even from down here, I can’t help but appreciate how effortlessly handsome he is. My cheeks flush.

He’s tall, there’s no doubt about that, and judging by the muscles attempting to break free beneath his shirt, he’s extremely well built. Locks of hair the shade of melted toffee frame a pair of dark eyes, which I’m currently having an internal battle to look away from. His fingers trace through his hair before running down a jawline that’s so sharp it could cut diamond. He rubs at the rough stubble on his chin, whilst watching me with an amused smirk, cocksure of the effect he’s having on me. I continue, flitting past an indisputably expensive shirt and jacket combination. And finally, I’m met with a pair of loose-fitting trousers and shoes so shiny they could double as a mirror. He coughs, a very deliberate move to get my attention back.

As I look up, I attempt my best death stare.

“You broke my fucking iPhone!” I shriek, stupidity overriding sense.

The noise he makes can only be described as a cackle. He’s obviously finding the situation amusing. As he bends slowly, crouching down to my level, I’m hit by a wave of his heady cologne. His fingers are rough to the touch as he grasps my chin, using them to hold my head up. A minute passes while he examines me. Making me squirm.

“Are you really that stupid?” He enquires with emphasis on the ‘that.’ “Believe me, Octavia. Your broken iPhone is the least of your problems right now.”

“Y-you know my name?” My voice shakes, tiny and broken, and not how I’d envisioned it to sound at all.

“What a sudden change in attitude, Babydoll,” he snickers, and his eyebrows raise high in self-satisfaction. He doesn’t break eye contact as he climbs to his feet, before smoothing down the lapels on his jacket. Finally free from their imprisonment, my eyes dart sideways, a wave of relief flooding over me.

He turns to the staircase, smirking at his friend, who has to stop every now and again to pluck shards of glass from his clothing. Serves him right.

“Man up, Ezio,” he snarks.

The man in black, whom I guess is Ezio, appears moments later. No longer hidden by the mask, he fixes me with a fierce glare.

“Che ridere,” he grunts back, and I have no idea what that means. “Who would have thought such a little girl had so much strength?”

“I’m not a little girl, you douchebag!” I retaliate, instantly biting my tongue to shut my foolish mouth.

Tuxedo raises both eyebrows at me, looking a little perplexed.

“Well. Aren’t you just a little firecracker?” he scoffs, reaching towards me with a large hand. Before I can get away, he’s gripped the back of my t-shirt and hauled me to my feet, pinning me tightly against his chest. His overpowering scent turns my stomach.

“But I’d keep that pretty little tongue of yours to yourself. If you want to keep it.”

And with that terrifying threat out in the open, he grabs my ponytail in his fist and yanks my head backwards until I’m uncomfortably close to his face. I try my hardest to fight against him, but he’s a wall of muscle.

“You ready with that needle, Ez?” Tuxedo asks, with his eyes fixed on mine. A ghost of a smile on his lips.

“What the- No! Wait! You can’t!” I scream frantically until he claps a gloved hand over my mouth to muffle my cries for help. The smell of leather fills my nostrils.

“Shh, it’ll all be over soon, Doll,” he coos, like that’s supposed to settle me.

Next thing I know, Ezio is hovering above me with a syringe clutched between his teeth. I twist and buck, trying to free myself. Out of sheer desperation, I clamp my teeth down on the bastard’s finger as he tries to restrain me.

“Fuck!” He howls. “Ez, stab her with it, will you!”

A sharp prick in my neck tells me Ezio has jabbed me with whatever was in the syringe. It doesn’t take long for the drug to take effect. I feel myself getting sleepy at first. Then my muscles become limp in his arms.

“Dulces Suenos.”

And that’s the last thing I hear before my eyes close.

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Translations:

Dio Dannato- God dammit

Che ridere- Very funny.

Dulces Suenos- Sweet dreams