Scarred

I’d always had a love with the dark and unusual. Always had been obsessed with the supernatural. I just never believed any of it was real. Vampires could not really exist. They were things of myth and legend.

I’d never been more wrong in my life.

My sudden clash into their underground world happened by pure bad luck. I should have never been at work that night. I should have never been the one leaving that late. It was my inability to say no that changed my life forever.

The day had started out ok. Not once had I thought that I would never see my family or friends again. Never did I think that my freedom was on a timeline. My life on a countdown.

It had been dark and rainy from the start, so maybe I should have known. I had always loved storms, never thinking that they could be an omen of worse things to come. The pelting rain had made my drive to work almost impossible, yet I had remained optimistic. It was Friday, and I was heading for a three days weekend.

If only I had not foolishly agreed to cover a coworker’s shift who would never do the same for me, I’d be home now. Not stuck in this cage with no signs of help. No signs of a way out.

The day had gone by smoothly enough. I worked in an office handling collections, so most of the time you would find me with an earbud in watching a movie on my phone or listening to music to pass the time. No one really bothered me, and I never bothered anyone else.

Staying late that day meant not getting off work till 7. While that in itself didn’t seem especially late, add in the fact that it was a rainy November night and you found it was already pitch black outside. When I had opened the back door to the office, I had paused, looking up and the security light as it flickered in and out, never going completely out. We had asked for it to be fixed, but of course nothing had been done. I had left my umbrella at my desk but had decided to hell with it and took off toward my car.

I had never seen anything coming. A bag was quickly shoved over my head, well past my shoulders as if it had dropped from the heavens themselves. I had screamed at the top of my lungs, but the fabric from the bag only seemed to coat my mouth. My screams fell short as I felt something hit me hard over the head.

The rest is what they call history. I awoke in a bright white room as my body was sprayed with a high power water hose. I had been stripped of all clothes and the only thing I could do was lay in a fetal position and close my eyes as I waited for the assault to be over.

When it was done, I was roughly forced up and given a white button-up shirt that was several sizes too big. I was led down a hall of what they called cells. It truly reminded me of an old-fashioned prison, brick walls, and bars. Only there was never sunlight. Only the bright fluorescent bulbs that shone above me, no matter what time of day or night.

If you asked me how long I had been held prisoner, I wouldn’t have a clue. It felt like weeks, yet years, at the same time. I hadn’t been lucky like some of the other girls. Most girls that were brought into the cells left after a short period of time. Yet I remained as nothing more than a toy.

The guards, for lack of a better name, would pull me out of my cell at what I had begun to suspect was once a week to be hosed down again and given a fresh shirt. It was never soon enough. The room they had me in was bare of any kind of comforts. The mattress on my floor had seen better days and the thin wool blanket I had been provided did little to lessen the sharp, bitter cold at night.

They made sure I had 3 meals a day, although I wouldn’t call them square. Our meals, or at least mine, were always the same. A poor excuse for oatmeal and milk. A peanut butter sandwich and milk. Or if I was lucky, a piece of chicken, either with green beans or corn, and water.

On my walks down the hall when I was released for showers, I had begun to notice that I was treated differently than the other girls. The lights above their cells would be turned off at different times so they could sleep better. They all had nicer cots, blankets, and sometimes they would have fruit or sodas. None of that mattered to me, however, it was the fact that not a one of them had a mark on them. Not one of them was covered in blood. It was only me.

I would have questioned it, but the more I talked, the worse my punishments were. I had quickly learned to look down and shut up, especially when Bruno was on guard duty. None of the other guards had ever come into my cell. It was only ever him. It was like he got some type of sick thrill every time his knife cut into my flesh.

Fighting him off was no good, his cuts would only go deeper. I prayed he would grow sick of me. I had even prayed for death. He was never so kind. On the rare occasions he wouldn’t appear, I would sit in the corner of my cell relieved for the peace.

It took me a while to figure out that the people who held me captive were vampires. They didn’t have the long fangs that you saw in the movies. The men weren’t pale. They looked almost normal, their eyes, however, betrayed them when they fed. When Bruno would taste my blood off of his blade, his pupils turned catlike and his eyes would shine red.

The monster underneath would come out to play, then disappear as if I had imagined it all.

Sometimes I still doubted myself. I would think that I had to be in a coma and my mind was creating this horror story. Vampires weren’t real. Bruno was just some sadistic evil person who got off on making me bleed. Selfishly, I wished he would find interest in one of the other girls. Yet it seemed I was his chosen.

Hearing the sound of metal scraping metal, I instantly froze. Bruno was making his way to me, the blade of his knife making a screeching sound, announcing his arrival.

I sat as still as possible, staring at the floor, hoping he would walk past my cell. The scraping stopped, and I knew he was waiting for me to look up at him. He thrived off of the panic in my eyes. My heart was beating so fast I wouldn’t be surprised if you could see it, my hands shaking in my lap.

My stalling would only make him angry, so I slowly looked up, seeing him standing in front of my cell, leaned up against the bars, watching me as a small child would watch an animal at the zoo.

“Hello, Violet.”

His voice was smooth, hiding the craziness beneath. Bruno’s name fit him well. He appeared to be in his late thirties, his hair clean shaven, as if he had been in the military. Although he had huge bicep muscles, he also had somewhat of a beer gut.

Once again, my eyes hit the floor as he unlocked my cell, walking in and slamming the door behind him. He walked up to me, stopping right in front of me. My eyes focused on his brown boots as he knelt down, reaching out with his hand and grabbed my chin, raising my face so that I had no choice but to look at him.

“Miss me rag doll?”

Rag doll, it was his pet name for me. He had never told me why and I could only image it had come from all the scars he left on my body. I knew better than to speak, even though he had asked me a question, so I just nodded yes. Shaking my head no would have only gotten me slapped before the torture began.

Sometimes Bruno would go easy on me. I hoped that tonight would be one of those nights. Looking up at him, I kept his eye contact, knowing that was what he liked. He smiled, reaching up and moving my hair out of my face. His smile, however, wasn’t comforting, his smile was scary. While vampires didn’t have long fangs, they had sharp teeth, and his seemed to stand out.

I swallowed as he reached for his knife he kept on his hip, pulling it back out of its holder. He pulled my arm out, keeping eye contact with me as he moved the knife swiftly over the inside of my arm. I winced as the knife cut into my flesh, leaving a thin line of blood behind. My eyes looked up, watching as he licked my blood off of the razor-sharp blade. I watched as his pupils transformed, turning red.

Pulling my arm straight, he ran his tongue up the blood now dripping off of my arm. I had trained myself to remain as still as possible. He was being gentle tonight, and I didn’t want to risk angering him. I still had a deep gash in my thigh where he cut a chunk of my flesh from my skin.

The moans coming from Bruno as he greedily sucked the blood from my arm sounded almost sexual. I had been afraid that he would rape me in the beginning, but I soon found out that there were far worse things. Leaning up, he moved to his knees, shoving me down, and I braced myself, knowing he was going for my legs. No part of my body was safe from him. My face remained the only skin his knife had yet to go.

I cried out in pain as he sliced me deeper this time from my the side of my kneecap around to my upper thigh. The sting radiated through my leg, but through teary eyes, I continued to meet his face. This time as he brought his blade to his lips, blood poured from it. He gave me a satisfied smirk before he knelt down, licking up the blood that gushed from my wound. He had cut me deep, but at least he hadn’t taken any flesh this time.

When he left me, I retired to my corner, pressing my hands against my bloody thigh. It was deeper than I first thought, and I knew it would be painful for a while. Closing my eyes, I knew I should lie down. I was always weaker after Bruno left. Grabbing the blanket at my side, I pulled it over my bare legs, praying that he did not return tonight.