Three days. I've been here for that long. Or that's what I guess. There's no natural light to tell when the day starts and ends. No clocks. No phones. There's nothing other than darkness. Six times, I have watched five men walk in, push trays of food inside the cages, and leave without a word. So I assume they feed us twice a day and afterward take us out for using the toilet.

The meal is stale, and barely goes down the throat. It also tastes like shit. But it keeps its consumer alive, which I suppose is the point.

Every bone in my body aches from constantly being on the iron floor of this cage. It is no longer a simple task to sleep.

I wonder if the birds we buy and lock up feel this way. If so, it's awful. Not a living being deserves this.

I lean back to the bars and press my head to it.

So far, they haven't picked me for the cleaning rounds.

I sigh and close and my eyes. With nothing to do, it's tough to keep the negative thoughts at bay. A challenge to assure myself it might not be that bad.

Being trapped sucks, it's suffocating.

Is this how Mom felt before she took her life and freed herself?

I squeeze my eyes so hard that red and white dots dance before my eyelids. A pang of pain shoots through my chest. I miss her.

Maybe if she had stayed alive, I wouldn't have been here. Selfish of me to think like that, though I can't help it.

But she was struggling too.

Always saying Dad was a good man when they married, or before he lost his job and went broke. I don't know if she wanted to convince herself or to make me give a damn about that man.

I wish things were different.

Footsteps echo in the otherwise quiet underground. I straighten and pull my knees to myself, getting farther away from the back of my cage.

With wide eyes, I glance at my left, the same girl who told me everything. She looks unfazed; I watch warily as the footfalls near us.

I hold my breath. Two silhouettes appear, I can't make out their features. They stop in front of my cage. One of them steps forward, the keys in his hands jingling loudly. He shuffles through them and holds one up and shoves it in the keyhole and yanks the door open.

My body trembles uncontrollably.

"Come," he says with a gruff voice.

My limbs refuse to move as I gawk at them.

He waits for another moment then comes in. His rough hand wraps around my upper arm and pulls me to my feet. The man drags me out and his companion closes my cage before gripping my other side. Together they take me away.

I turn and glimpse my neighboring cage's occupant. The girl watches me with sad eyes before dropping her head down.

My stomach churns, fear fogs my brain.

The men ascend the stairs. My legs are stiffer than I thought, refusing to bear my weight, my bare feet drag on the ground. They effortlessly take me with themselves.

As we venture up, narrow windows carved through the stony walls allow minimal natural light into the cramped stairwell. The sky is so bright and blue that it hurts my eyes, and instantly tears well up in them.

They enter a hallway, my feet dragging behind me while they carry my entire weight.

Shock and trepidation do little to help me pull myself together.

They walk into a room, the door already open.

I frantically scan the place, desperately trying to focus on my surroundings. It seems like a normal office, a bit too dark, but nothing else is special about it. A red rug is on the wooden floor, a desk is placed in the far corner, and a somewhat empty library are the only things the room has.

The same Southern man I met at the bar is sitting on a leather armchair, wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans. A woman with short dark hair stands in the middle, her black heels a stark contrast from the red old rug. She's wearing a white blouse and a black pencil skirt that reaches her knees making her appearance too formal.

Anger and frustration course through my veins as I fixate on the Southern man. I want to scream at him, shout why he did this to me, but my mouth refuses to open. Words don't align to form a sentence.

The two men holding me stop before the woman. She scans me from head to toe before they let go of my arms. My knees wobble and I collapse on the ground. Pain shoots up from where I contacted the wood.

Still feeling her gaze on me, I look up and hold her stare with as much hatred as I can muster.

She nods. "It's good, I'll take her."

"Great," the Southern man exclaims.

She saunters to the unoccupied armchair and picks up her bag. After a moment of rummaging, she pulls out a stack of cash. The Southern man jumps to his feet and greedily snatches the money from her hand.

My stomach turns as tendrils of disgust crawl across my skin.

Two bulky men approach me. I hadn't realized they were here. Up close, they are too pale to be normal. They grasp both my upper arms in iron grips, their touch is icy cold, hauling me to my feet.

"Please let me go," I finally choke out.

The Southern man stops midway through counting the dollars and looks at me. A cruel smile twists his mouth. "You're now their property, girl," he spits.

His words snap something inside me. I thrash against their steely clutches. "Leave me!" I screech.

He laughs and turns to the woman. "Told you she's healthy."

She nods, and a malicious smile curls her painted lips.

"Why are you doing this! Let me go, please," I beg, and tears stream down my face.

They ignore me. The men holding me move out of the room, dragging me along, paying no heed to my cries and pleas. The woman trots after us.

Just as we step out of the building, the woman clamps handcuffs on my wrists and the two men throw me into the black van. They sit on either side of me, sandwiching me as she sits in the shotgun.

I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from sobbing. "Please let me go," my voice breaks.

"If you talk or make any noise, I'll tape your mouth, girl," the woman snaps.

I drop my head down.

Fear trickles into my system. With every passing minute I know I'm nearing my death, if that girl's words were true.

Could it be she was wrong? Or maybe lying?

The rest of the ride is in utter silence. I can't see where the vehicle takes me, and somewhere in the middle of the drive, one of them fastens a blindfold over my eyes.

Terror gnaws at me, my breathing is heavy as I slowly lose hope. Death or not, this is the end of my life as a human with free will.

I'll be forever trapped with no way out.

I don't know if the journey lasts for hours or not, it's hard to tell with all these unsettling emotions and no sense of how fast we're moving.

Finally, the car halts and they haul me out.

My naked feet land on stony ground. They proceed ahead and pull me with themselves. The rocks cut my bare skin.

Soon they guide me up a few stairs until the surface becomes cold marble. But at least it's smooth, it doesn't hurt to walk on it.

They speed up their pace, and I give up keeping up with them.

At some point, the two men let go of my arms and the woman wraps her claw-like hand above my elbow and continues speed walking.

She suddenly stops and steadies me as I lose my balance from her sudden halt. A door clicks shut. She frees me and the next moment she removes the blindfold.

It's a small room with no natural light, just a fluorescent illuminating the area. A single bed is in the corner, with white sheets, but it seems no one has used it for years. A decaying scent overwhelms me.

From the other side, a frail girl walks towards us. Her skin is sickly pale, her clothes ragged and torn.

"Clean her up. Sir will have her at night," The lady says as she unlocks the handcuff.

The girl stiffly nods.

The woman turns to me. "Don't even think of running away. We will first make you pay for it in the worst forms possible and after years of you begging us to kill you, if we felt merciful, we might," she warns before turning on her heels and strutting away.

The girl comes forth and instructs me into the bathroom.

"What will happen to me?" I ask, watching her fearful eyes.

She doesn't answer and only starts the water, filling up the bathtub.

"What are they going to do to me?" I attempt again, but it falls to deaf ears.

Frustrated, I drive my hand through my hair.

There must be a way out of here. Out of this life.

I look around, trying to come up with a plan to flee.

"If you try to escape them, they will torture you till your life becomes worse than living in hell. But if you stay you'll live or have an easy death," she mumbles.

I spin to her and doubtfully watch her.

She opens the faucet further, the sound of the splashing water into the tub fills the area. "I'm not supposed to talk to you. Masters can hear us," she whispers.

I tilt my head and squint my eyes. What does that mean?

I nod not wanting to cause trouble for her, I remain quiet. She leaves and I bathe. Cleaning myself from the dirt and grime of the past few days.

After I'm done, the girl returns with new clothes.

Wordlessly, I change into them. A strapless black dress that barely reaches my mid-thighs with a pair of fishnet tights.

I don't know what to conclude from this clothing, but whatever the case might be, it feels like I'm being prepared to be served.

I hate it.

Afterward, I walk out, and the girl leads me to a small dressing table. I sit down and she gets to work.

She paints my face in vibrant colors. Candy red lipstick, and a mixture of magenta purple and pink for my eye makeup with mascara, and at last she attaches fake lashes. She pulls my hair back and ties it into a ponytail.

With every passing moment, my heart beats faster, my chest becomes tighter. It grows harder to sit still.

But I do it. Not that I have any other options.

By the point she's done, a glance at the clock says it's near midnight.

How ironic. Midnights are supposed to be magical. At least that's what all the fantasy books and movies imply. But not for me. Not this time.

The same woman from earlier barges into the room. The girl scurries out and leaves me alone with her. She's still wearing the same thing.

"Come on," she beckons me.

My limbs refuse to move. My jittering nerves make it impossible to breathe normally.

She huffs with frustration before pursing her lips. With an eye roll, she crosses the distance between us and grips my upper arm, pulling me to my feet.

"Please let me go," I whisper, not able to speak louder.

She ignores me, and drags me with her, forcing my legs to move.

I'm unable to take in my surroundings as she pulls me to my waiting faith. Whatever that might be. My mind is frantic with fear and anxiety.

It lasts forever, yet too short, until she stops before a gigantic double door. With one hand, she pushes it open and ushers me inside before closing it behind me, caging me with the beast.

A man is sitting on a leather armchair on the other side. His face is too pale to be natural, and his skin is too smooth, as though he has been photoshopped. His features suggest he can't be anything over twenty-five, but his malicious dark eyes claim something else entirely.

It sends unpleasant shivers down my spine. An emotion swirls in them much worse than lust. It's the gleam of murder glinting in them that glues my feet to the spot.

My body trembles. Either he'll kill me tonight, or I'm going to be his slave for the rest of my life.

Helpless and hopeless, I stare at him as he stands up.

"Come here," he demands. His voice booms in the empty room, causing me to shudder harder.

My legs oblige. Might as well make it as quick as possible.

With unsteady steps, I near him until my muscles refuse to get closer to him.

I'll never know what it's like to not be a victim.

The thought sourly crosses my mind.

In the next flash, he is standing in front of me. His sudden appearance and the speed startle me. Before I can even flinch away, his icy fingers wrap around my wrist.

His other hand finds my neck. Tears brim my eyes as the lump in my throat grows.

He opens his mouth.

Two white and sharp fangs glisten under the florescent light of the room.

Air knocks out of my lungs.

Shit! Vampires are real!

He pulls my neck towards himself.

From the corner of my blurry vision, I see a flash of a moving silhouette at a lightning speed.

The tips of the sharp fangs touch the skin of my neck. I close my eyes and give in to my faith. The inevitable death.

And the next moment it's gone.

A sickening thud of flesh hitting marble echoes in the room.

I dare to open my eyes.

My brain refuses to register and process the scene. It takes me a few moments to comprehend what happened.

The guy who was seconds away from making me his dinner lied limp on the floor.

Before me stands a man wearing a black hood. His hands are red, the liquid drips from his knuckles and fingers. Blood trickles from his mouth to his chin. Two sharp teeth covered in blood glint under the light. Fangs!

The room spins around my head.

He brings his head up and looks straight into my eyes. My soul.

Black dots cover my vision, and soon darkness consumes me.

Thank you for reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it ^.^