A/N: I hope you enjoy this story, my newest. And PLEASE, tell me what you think of it once you read it. If it sucks, TELL ME (just be a little nice). If you like it, also tell me. I'll keep on writing if you like it. Otherwise, I'll just think: What's the point?
Oh, and just to make things clear for some. Yes, this is a fanfic. Amelia Atwater-Rhodes' characters will be seen in the later chappys. When my own creation-Vampire Colette, happens upon Risika and a few others. Disclaimer: Amelia Atwater-Rhodes' characters belong to her not me...and so does anything that has to do with her stories and creations. Enjoy.
Frodocrazi
PROLOGUE
The vampire eyes haunted me. As a child, I had looked up from my bed and found them staring at me from the darkness. But I never spoke to them, and never them I. Every night as the sun faded from the sky and the darkness arose, I saw the eyes, watching me from the shadows, observing everything I did. The first time I walked, I watched them from the corner of my eye, watching the gleaming dark eyes as they stared endlessly at me. "What are you looking at?" my mother had asked me, looking into the shadows and seeing nothing. She did not expect me to answer her, because in her eyes I was barely a human being. She talked to me as if I was incomprehensible, as any mother would talk to their child. But inside I knew what the eyes were, and I was thrilled every moment I saw them.
On my fifth birthday, my mother and father had celebrated my birthday by dressing me up in luxurious silk dresses and having our cook, Gretta, bake me a wonderful cake. As we sat around our dining table that night and they prattled on about the prominence of my fifth birthday, I found myself gazing out of the window into the darkness and waiting for the eyes to appear. Though, they did not appear. I had felt my heart panic, and I looked frantically through each of the vast windows around me for some trace of the eyes. But they were not there, not looking at me as they had every night of my life. "Anna, dear," my father had addressed me, sounding as if he had actually cared. I turned my head to acknowledge him, but my eyes were darting back to the windows, hoping for the eyes to appear.
"Anna," my father spoke again, his voice louder and harsher. I tore my eyes from the windows and looked him in the eyes. I found emptiness. A deep pit of nothing.
"Your eyes," I whispered to him. And he squinted his horrid empty eyes and looked at me as he done many times before. Looking at me like I was something pitiful and strange, as if he were thinking how could I ever be his child, his own blood. "They are nothing," I spoke, my words slow and almost a whisper. I yearned to see the vampire eyes once more, and I turned from my father to look for the eyes I knew were not there.
But as I laid in my bed that night, I could not sleep or think of anything other than the eyes, and I felt as if a part of me were missing. "What are you looking for, darling?" my mother had asked me as she knelt by my bed to kiss me. I didn't answer her that night nor when she leaned over me and kissed me lightly on the cheek, though for many years after I had regretted doing so. The biggest regret of my life. When she got up and stood in the doorway to my room, I saw her for the last time, and I remember her exactly: her long brown hair hanging over her shoulders and her beautiful emerald eyes gleaming at me as she whispered that she loved me. And then she had left, closing the door behind her and leaving me in silence...all alone, as I would be for an eternity. But I never thought of that, because all I could think of was how the eyes had abandoned me on such a special day.
And the night had dragged on slowly, the silence looming in the house as a deadly disease, and the darkness seeming to whisper to me of something. I couldn't sleep at all that night, only stare out my window, searching for hope of the vampire returning. But, during the middle of ill-fated night, as I was lying in my bed and praying to God for my vampire friend to return, I heard a shrill scream from somewhere inside our great mansion...the voice, that of my mothers. But, as I was only a child, I stayed in my bed in fear, cowering under my silk blankets, hoping the scream was not real. And then I heard yet another, and the screams were coming closer to my room. "God, please make the screams leave. I don't want to be scared," I prayed in a whisper, but the screams were coming closer. And, with my fists clenching my blankets and my tears streaming down my small face, I watched the handle to my door turn, clicking as someone was opening my door.
I remember crying instead of screaming, and begging God to help me, just this once. But I suppose God does not hear prayers, because the door crashed open and I found a man standing before me with a bloody knife in his hand. And at that moment, I recognized who had come to bring me pain, and I cried to him, our manservant, "Mr. Rollins! The screams!" He ignored me and came so close to me, so that I could smell the foul liquor on his breath. I tried to move away, but he grabbed hold of me and held me down under his arm so that I was helpless under his power. His rough, calloused hands had slithered up my nightgown and touched me where I had never been touched. And I struggled, screaming and biting down on his rough hands, staining my own nightgown with his blood and my tears. But then he took the silk sheets of my bed and pulled them against my face to smother me. And as I screamed, no one could hear it, and I could only listen to my own heartbeat racing as the man killed me. With my last breath, I whispered, "Dear God, if you are real...save me..." Then I waited...and I felt myself slipping away... dying away into nothing.
But I never died, my demise disrupted as a pair of stone white hands lifted the manservant off of my bed and threw him across the room to where he slammed his skull against the stone fireplace. I heard the sickening crack and I whipped up, tearing the sheets off my face and gasping for breath. And then I sat there in shock, gasping for air and looking over to my rescuer. But before I could see such a face, he left my side and as if he had never moved a muscle, was instantly on top of the manservant and I could only see splatters of blood as my rescuer, the vampire, drank away what was left of Mr. Rollins' life. His body rocked back and forth in a rhythm as he drank our manservant's blood, and his marble hands had combed through Mr. Rollin's bloody hair. When he was finished, he lifted his head up, his face away from me, and dropped Mr. Rollins dead body on the floor, his dead eyes staring up at me.
And then he left...disappearing before my very eyes as if he were a phantom. I sat on my bed and stared at the sight around me, the bloodshed and death lingering about in the air so bad that I could hardly grasp the reality of it. The only thing that seemed real was the breeze flowing over my face and stirring my hair, coming from the window where the vampire had come and left. I ran over to the window and looked down, only to see nothing except the grass swaying about in the wind as if nothing had ever happened. And the last thing I remember of the night was finding my father dead on the floor...and my dear mother lying in her bloody bed, her face calm and pale as death carried her away from me forever.