Savion's POV
Maybe I am a monster; an evil sadistic creature with no presence of humanity. I suppose that is what it must be like to the outside world, killing innocents isn't the best way to get into heaven. But if you knew my background would you feel the same way? Or are my crimes to large to be blamed on something that happened hundreds of years ago.
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I was born in Senegambia region of West Africa in the mid 1700s. Time wasn't marked carefully then even in rich countries and the passing of time was barely documented in the wilderness of the world. My birth mother died giving birth to me and my sickly twin who died only a few hours in its poor life. As soon as I was able to walk I was sent out to the fields to work alongside several of my brothers and sisters.
It was on one of those days I was captured by slave traders and forced onto a slave ship, bound for the New World, America. I was placed in a ship with my siblings but the crowded conditions meant I never actually saw them. I was alone, surrounded my sickly adult who would be sick and piss on me without caring. Once we had docked in America I was brought for a cotton plant by an English man with more money than sense that seemed half-drunk as he surveyed the large number of slaves. I'm sure I was picked as a mistake, who wants a child on a plantation? But nether less I was brought and sentenced to work for this greedy man.
The cotton plant was dreadful and suicidal thoughts clouded my mind constantly as the years passed. Day after day after day dragged on picking the cotton buds; often at harvest time we would work for eighteen hours. Even pregnant women were forced to work until they were only days away from the birth. At night our only comfort was a wooden shack with simply uneven boards to sleep on. For the majority of my life I was crowded in a room with at least ten other people.
One of the men was Tedros, a middle-aged man with a burning passion to escape the horrible life we found ourselves in. In the dark of the night we would sit around the back of the shack and he would tell me his plans in hushed whispers. Talking inside the house was dangerous as the other slaves would turn us both in if they could gain enough from it. My dreams became filled with the hope that someday I could leave this soul-crushing life I had been forced into. Carefully we assembled our plan to getaway. The cotton plant was surrounded by a thick forest on the west side which was easily reached if you could slip by the watchful guards.
But when my escape happened it was not by Tedros' careful planning.
The summer sun had beaten down unmercifully down on my bruised and broken skin. A large fat overseer was standing a few feet away from my unclothed back flexing his whip every so often in undisguised pleasure. The muscles in my back ached and begged for me to stop my relentless work but punishment was far worse. The overseers thought nothing of whipping your back a dozen times for only a minor offence. A pair of house servants appeared and requested the overseer handing him a roll of paper. I thought nothing of this exchange until Tedros was called over from his place a few metres away from me.
'So you thought you could runaway? Did you nigger?' the English overseer sneered looking at Tedros as though he was dirt, 'though you could just leave and no-one would notice? Well let me show you what we do to deserters like you. Stop the slaves working, I want them all to see his punishment,' the last part was said to the servants.
Instantly all work creased in my area. Every eye was fixed on Tedros' body as the overseer made him an example. Every so often slaves who broke the rules were punished publicly to show the rest that the same could happen to them. The white men showed great delight in this and happily gave out the whippings. My only friend was whipped vigorously then when his weak knees gave way dragged by the house servants away; his back coating the dusty ground with scarlet red.
Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. I ran up to the overseer and pushed him to the ground and grabbed the whip from his sweaty fat hands. My fist collided with his jaw and a loud crack echoed around the fields.
For a split second time stood still then I was running off. I would surely be killed if I stayed. Soon running footsteps chased me and I ran towards the forest, my escape route. Crashing past two guards I whacked out my fists manically, not caring who I hit. The forest inched ever closer as I bashed though my captors and finally I stumbled into the undergrowth. The dark forest ground faltered my run as I desperately tried to hear any coming enemy. Loud shouts and calls coupled with furious dog barks drove me on. I was never going back to that place again. The overseer had as good as killed Tedros, he would never heal properly from that beating. Nothing and no-one was making me go back to the plantation, I was a runaway.
Somehow I managed to find myself in Texas. I don't know how or how long it took me; starvation and thirst clouded my weak mind only leaving enough energy to keep walking on and to hide when I heard a carriage rolling down the dusty paths. Any white man that saw me would either take me as his own slave or shot me on the spot. I had risked so much to get this far and I wasn't going to be killed now. For weeks I wandered without purpose, my hope slowly fading from my dying body.
My life changed forever on a clear summer starry night. The small amount of energy I had had drained away and no food had passed my lips in several days. The cool ground was like as I crumpled waiting for death now greedily. Maybe God would have mercy on me and send an angel to greet me.
But a different type of angel found me that night.
I truly thought I had died when a pale face stared unblinkingly down at me though this angel was nothing like I had imaged. It was small and shaped like a woman with a heart-shaped face that held the brightest red eyes I had ever seen. They glowed bright crimson and looked at me hungrily as though I was food. My angel wore non-script clothes that were filthy; that shocked me, I thought Heaven was clean. The angel started muttering in some foreign tongue and sat down beside me, reaching out to place a small hand on my cheek. I yelped, never had I felt something this cold in my life. But the angel still held my face and slowly reached into as though to kiss my neck…
Three terrible and agonising days later I awoke with new eyes. I was a vampire and my creator was called Madison. She was hoping to create a new born army, a relatively new creation that had only just appeared in the South. She wanted to be the greatest vampire that had ever existed. I was the fourth she had made but I was the only one to survive over a month. Madison bit at random, usually people she found on roadsides or fields. Nothing could stop her obsession with changing humans. When other covens and armies heard of her stake in Texas they tried to over take her. Fighting happened everyday though only at night, the bright sun making us surrender in the mornings. We lost more than we won as no-one was trained and our presence became known to the feeble minds of the humans that resided near by. Though we didn't care, they were just food, what did they know.
Then the Volturi came.
It was the pitch of darkness, after midnight. I was washing my hands in a small stream near where Madison had let us planned our attack for the next night. Today was planning. Two old males had recently overtaken an area of our feeding ground and we were talking about tactics. I was apart from the main group washing my hands of dried blood. Then screams echoed across the valley, shattering the silence. Black cloaks swirled into our camp, killing anyone in their path. For the first time in my vampire life I felt scared and frightened. Running I tore away from the bloodbath terrified. Huge enormous bonfires burned behind me as I ran away again from death. Once more I was a runaway.
For decades I travelled South America learning why my coven was destroyed. The newborn wars had become too out-of-hand and the Volturi decided to step in. Anyone caught with a newborn was slaughtered. Decades turned into centuries and still I didn't return to America. My sole purpose was to keep the burning of my throat at minimal. Occasionally I would find a lone female vampire but my encounters with them were swift and brief. Immortally stretched out in front of me endlessly; mocking me with the solitude I would have to suffer for the privilege. I thought longingly of changing some pretty human girl but always stopped myself at the last moment. No-one was my real angel.
At the turn of the millennium I decided to return to America. I had heard rumours of the great USA; the most powerful country on the planet. I wanted to see it for myself. Fear plagued me as I passed though the South, on the look out for crazed newborns. But now their creators were careful, not drawing attention to their selves.
Though I was a nomad again I felt more hope. In the North I could go out in the day, something I was not used to. Humans still kept their distance when they saw me but I felt better than I had in South America. Not happy but happier.
But happiness was around the corner; it sprang up at me in the most unusual manner.
I had chosen to visit New York on a wet and cloudily day. Only recently had I become happy to be in city; mainly I stuck to small villages or towns. The scent of human blood would be so tempting but I wanted to do this. My short visit was going well until I spotted the evil sun breaking though the clouds a few hours into my trip. Quickly I found a cheap hotel and hid for nearly a week in a small and dirty room. The staff must have though I was some criminal on the run from the police as I never left. I just sat on the bed hugging my knees while glaring at my enemy that teased me brightly. Finally on the 6th day rain returned to New York. Gladly I left my prison cell and practically ran out of its confines. But now I had a different problem. Carefully I had planned my hunting so I was bloated with blood a week ago. But now my careful planning had been thrown out of the window and my eyes were pitch-black. Hurriedly I raced towards Central Park looking for a human that I could just pick off that wouldn't draw attention to myself.
That was when I found my angel at last.
There bending over to pick up her phone was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. A mass of blonde curls flowed unwieldy down her back accenting her heart-shaped face. Her ruffled clothes hugged her body tightly accenting her curves. Too fast I reached out to beat her for her phone, my hunger forgotten. I needed to, no craved to, speak to this mysterious woman.
At first she had seen annoyed at me, thinking I was taking her phone but then to my excitement she had gracious accepted my fake invitation to a café. Throughout our walk I had debated changing her; I wanted her but did she want me. Her human instincts said so, her heart was beating fast and a light blush had coated her cheeks. It was too easy to lure her away from the city with me, making up excuses about a romantic spot I wanted to take her to. By the time she had realised I was lying; it was too late for her…
~*~
My angel comes towards me now. Immortally suits Serena well. Now she is most definitely the most beautiful woman on the planet without a doubt. We're the most perfect couple.
But why should she and I move around constantly? Surely we should have a home and stable diet. Which is why I've decided to make my own army in North America: like the ones in the South. There should be no fighting or very little. If I play my cards right then the Volturi won't have to even know. There so broken and defeated these days anyways they'll probably not even notice.
Our only small chance of competition: the weird Cullen clan. I've never seen them however they're famous in the vampire world. Supposedly they have like ten or twelve clan members. But Serena and I can defeat them if they try and stop us…
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How do you like the new direction of the story? I love reading your thoughts and ideas. wishiwasalice xoxox
