|I am somehow more of myself now|

The car stopped abruptly, Azalea was to caught up with the dizziness to notice her door was opened, and someone asked her to step out. Obeying her order, she twisted her body and put her bare feet on the ground. She saw the bodyguards surround her tiny figure, making sure she wouldn't run.

The world tilted for the girl, and there was no reaction time for anyone to catch her when she fell to the ground disoriented, smacking her head hard against the concrete. Black figures danced in front of her eyes, she heard voices all around her, but couldn't focus anymore.

Kyran had no time to catch his new slave before she hit the ground. The guards reached out to catch her, but he refused them instantly.

"No one touches her." He yelled. The bodyguards gave him a look of confusion, but he just ignored them.
"Go inside, I'll be there in a few minutes." He told them.

They obeyed his command and left him with the girl. Kyran looked down at his slave and wondered what he was going to do with her. She wore thin and torn clothing. It revealed cuts and bruises on her stomach and thighs. Almost everywhere.

Kyran felt pity for her, though he shouldn't feel anything. He could see she passed out from the injury to her head, but he can't help but take the fault for her this time. He knew she'd never ridden in a car, yet he didn't care that she almost got sick in his SUV.

Looking upon her now, his features softened. He realized that she is not only fragile but on the brink of death. She's a slave. Kyran shouldn't care if she's on the brink of death. Only this has he spent a fortune on her but was it more than the money? No.

He shook his head of his wondering thoughts and bent down to scoop his sleeping slave up. He grimaced how light she was, but then again all slaves are. They aren't meant to be built and strong, only weak. But there was something about his slave that was too weak.

Her head falls back while carrying her inside. At this notion Kyran could see her neck, it wasn't the same color as the rest of her pale self. No, it was a deep blue with her veins showing through. It looked as though someone was slowly sucking the life out of her, and that's exactly what happened. Deep bites marks littered her neck, most of them were swollen from being just put there. Anger stirs inside Kyran's belly, knowing that the Headmaster had done this sickens him. He even gets more angered because he cares just the slightest.

His father grew up having more slaves than anyone could count. He beat, whipped, and murdered almost all of them before his death. Kyran had witnessed all of it, his father let him watch too, to show an example of how he should treat his slaves.

A dark hole had replaced Kyran's undead heart every second he'd seen the torture of the household slaves. It worries him that he could lead down that same road with his new slave. But he knows that he would never be his father.

For his father had one slave that never deserved to be harmed. A slave that deserved the world and all things precious. The slave; his human mother.

*

Azalea didn't know how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity that she was stuck in her cell. She couldn't keep track of time, just like at the slavehouse, she didn't expect to either. If she guessed, between how many times she awoke and passed out and the times when someone brought food and water, she would guess about two weeks. She learned that she was only ever fed bread, one mint, and water. Azalea was surprised she was fed at all, before she was not allowed any food until the end of the week, only surviving on blood supply from the Headmaster and even those were extremely small amounts.

It was also dark in her cell, her thoughts at one point made her believe lights didn't even exist anymore. Her sanity was slowly slipping each time she woke up alone and freezing. Her body was weak, but not as much from before, which was surprising to Azalea. She expected to be dead maybe, or even being fed from. Nothing, there was nothing happening at all. No one came for her service or company. She feared she was forgotten, left to rot in there alone.

Whenever food was brought to her she would try pleading, begging in a desperate voice. Most times she couldn't even speak, but every time made tears run from her eyes, she didn't like being alone. At least at her last place, there was a full room of other slaves that kept her conscience intact. Here she couldn't speak or feel. She hated the darkness, it was suffocating and demoralizing.

Azalea decided to shake her thoughts and attempt to stand up. She's only been sitting and laying on the hard floor. She scooted herself carefully against the wall to lean on it, then twisted her body and planted her hands on the ground and pushed herself up as much she could. One hand moved to steady herself against the wall and inched upwards.

Azalea wanted to cry, her legs were aching already and her breaths were short, she knew she wouldn't last long standing. By this, she was afraid she won't live much longer.

Why? Azalea thought.Why would her master buy a slave who was left to rot in the dungeons? She knows he spent a fortune on her, Headmaster always reminded her how costly she was whenever he wanted to touch her. Other vampires bid on her but none could afford her. So how is her's different from all the others? Is it because he lives in a castle? If only she could remember what a castle looked like.

It had been a full minute Azalea was able to support herself against the stone wall before she crumbled to the ground in exhaustion. She cried out in anger, wanting someone to hear her.

"Please." She cries weakly, letting traitorous tears leak from her dry eyes before sleep took her.

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Lol, whenever I leave and come for a long period of time I A L W A Y S forget to keep the third person view going and I'll use 'i' and 'my'.

Shit me.