Reflections in hell
Angela was curled up into a ball on the cot again, listening to the now very familiar sound of a handcuff locking her to it. She kept her eyes open until the vampire had walked out the door and locked it behind her. That was the last defence she could keep up – being prepared for evil when it came and not being caught of guard. Because there wasn't a damn thing she could do to protect herself from it. As she heard the click of the lock she closed her eyes and allowed a single tear to fall. Exhausted by sheer fear she didn't notice when she fell asleep or unconscious and started reliving the horror of the first few days. Again.
It takes 23 sleeplesshours before she is brought to the table. During that time she has wavered between all emotions available to woman, but in the end it's numb despair that wins out. She whimpers and refuses to walk, but is easily dragged, and then flung up and held down as the vampire who tried grabbing her from the car digs his fangs into her throat.
She is shaking and taking fast, shallow breaths, tears running freely together with her nose as she holds onto her sanity with all she has. Her body feels stiff as a board and her hands are clenched into fists as the vampire slowly, with every sign of enjoyment, sucks the life out of her body... and suddenly chokes and falls away in violent spasms! Big commotion all around and Angela bolts upright and makes to jump off the table but is caught in midjump and brought to halt.
The courage she has resolved to show is momentarily shattered as the experience doesn't go as she had prepared for. The vampire is lying on the floor, clutching at his throat, behaving as if he has swallowed acid. She is roughly thrown back in chains as the others try to help their fallen brother. She shakes terribly as she listens to them yelling, but it isn't until the middle of the night that the full truth has been uncovered – the vampire is a vampire no longer. He can't hear heartbeats, doesn't even have the holes where the fangs used to be and can't smell blood. Not even when they bring out the woman. The others drain her blood in a coffee cup and gives to him, like chicken soup and much for the same reason. But he gags at the taste and smell. He is given more vampire blood but nothing helps, the man simply isn't a vampire anymore. And it's her fault. And he wants to kill her! He comes in and...
A strand of wet hair fell across her face, cool and refreshing, jolting her awake from that nightmare into another one. It's still dripping wet from the shower. It had been the third all too necessary shower she had had to take since her imprisonment. It is also a mark that meant that her fourth lifetime as a vampire coven's? pack's? nest's? lair's? if only she knew what it's called! prisoner had begun. Three times already she had become so dirty and dishevelled that even vampires were bound to notice. And though they didn't exactly fall all over themselves to make her comfortable and noticeably try to make her live longer, they hadn't neglected her basic needs either. Soup and sandwiches were forced down her throat if she didn't eat them, tours to the bathroom were relentlessly taken, bandages covered the numerous puncture wounds and three times she had been shoved into a shower with instructions to do a proper job of it. There hadn't been a single thing she could have done to resist. All she could do was try to protect her sanity.
And the blood sucking. She shivered. All too often she was dragged somewhere, always in the middle of the night, to some place where one or several vampires bit and drained her. And never, never any help in sight. Never an end. Though of course, she knew she was getting really weak and her best hope was to lose enough blood that her heart stopped. She shivered and clung tighter to herself. Somewhere she found the energy again to whisper the prayer that was now part of her every breath: "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name" Oh lord oh lord, help me! Can't someone please HELP ME!