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~The world is beautiful

Don't you agree?
And time is short.
Or maybe too long.
And the flowers bloom in spring
regardless of whether or not
I've spent a thousand years
as someone's pet.~

A cat sits over my lap.

A present from my husband.

It has been three days since I've been locked in my room with no blood or anything to drink. I feel badly for what I am about to do.

"I'm so sorry little kitty," I say quietly. "I'm really hungry. I have to do this." I pick up the cat from my lap, press my face to his neck and bite down, draining the blood from his body. My eyes roll backwards into my head as euphoric sensations rush through my body and over my tongue as I drink his blood.
Years ago, I had been a quiet girl. Afraid to speak up. Scared of strangers and the dark and of bees particularly, believe it or not. And I never complained. Not even once. I never had a bad thing to say ever. It wasn't so much that I was a supremely positive person or particularly optimistic. Maybe it was just that life had been like a flower in bloom. Sweet and kind and full of hugs and kisses and a fine experience indeed.
Then the kidnapping. And I was placed in darkness. The darkness ate me up. The darkness consumed me. The darkness came and destroyed my life. And that dark ocean came in the form of Drake, my vampire husband. The one that had taken me to this place and forced me to be his wife.

I felt tears in my eyes as I drank the sweet blood of the cat. I pulled my face back. "It's not like I hated you," I mumble to the now dead cat being cradled in my arms. "But I had to drink your blood because I was so thirsty. You can forgive me, can't you? Promise me you're not angry."
There was a knock on the door and I find myself rushing to my feet. "Drake," I mutter.
"Darling." Drake appears gracefully, dressed in black and white tuxedo. His dark hair is slicked back, his face pale and handsome and he appears to be in his late thirties. "I'm so sorry I had you locked up for so many days. How'd you like Snickers. Your pet cat, I mean."

"I thought he was dinner," I replied defiantly, tossing my curly blond hair over my shoulder. "Was I wrong?"

"Dinner? Oh that's right. I suppose I did forget to feed you. Guess that means you'll have to be punished and not eat again tonight."

"In that case," I declare even louder. "You can have Snickers back. As I told you before and I'll say it again, when it comes to cats, I'm allergic to them." I throw the dead cat at him and spin around headed to the other side of the room to the large window gazing out over the landscape and fields of flowers.
"Snickers speak to me," he says, shaking the little cat's head. Sighing, he drops the dead cat and shrugs. "Fine then. Have it your way. That's two more days without dinner you wench and you can just suffer for all I care." He leaves locking the door behind him.

Hmph. The bastard.
I stare out the window, watching as the sun sets. I feel cold and sad. If it weren't for the hunger, I never would've killed the cat. I swear. Mother would've been so angry if she knew I did things like this just to keep from being hungry. She'd be so angry indeed. If she were here today, Of course, that is. Which she had died back in the middle ages as I mentioned earlier so I couldn't even be with her and have her be angry with me anymore.
When I was little, the world had been my oyster. Fun. Innocent. Full of laughter.
Now, I was depressed, lonely, and as for my little kitty cat, he was murdered and dead on my bedroom floor.

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