Isabelle looked at her reflection miserably. Her long, curly orange to red hair dripping in front of her, her green eyes filled with frightened tears. Her white skin was tinged with red blood showing through the gigantic tears in her dress.
"You stupid bitch!" her drunken husband screamed slurrily at her while kicking her curled up bleeding, hurting form. "Can't even make me a damn meal! I slave away at the mines and come home to slop like this?" He gave her a final kick and curse before staggering out of the room drunkenly. Isabelle lay dully on the floor, no thoughts coming to her mind, no thoughts leaving, just one big, blank, silence. Her body was numb with pain, and her breathing was ragged and shaky. She couldn't see anything except for the whiteness, and couldn't hear anything. It wasn't that she was dead or dying, but instead, she was going into herself, just for a little while. When she came out again, she hobbled herself up, brushed off her brown dress, and fixed her hair. There was no light shining through the window, only the dark night came through, covering the tiny hut in gloom. Her husband, Leopold, was still not home. Whenever she thought of Leopold, fear struck her through her heart. When Isabelle and Leopold first met a year prior to that day, it was because of their arranged marriage, and the first time they met was on their wedding day. He was the son of a landlord, and she was a poor farmer's daughter. It all seemed the way she expected marriage to be like for the first few days; husband goes to work, wife stays at home taking care of the house and cooking, husband comes home and the two eat dinner together before making love. However, after a few days, the drink came out, and Leopold was virtually always drunk or with a wicked hangover, and he would beat her whenever she even voiced her opinion on anything, or even spoke. He threatened to kill her if she ever had any more contact with her family or with friends. So, here she was, broken down in spirit and mind, wishing so desperately for escape that she became catatonic whenever she felt that she couldn't deal with the situation, which was quite often.
By the time she was done cleaning the house from Leopold's anger, she went to straw bed, feeling insecure and frightened. Shortly afterwards, the front door smashed open and Leopold came tripping towards the bed and fell down on top of her.
"Come 'ere you." He mumbled angrily at her while lifting up her tattered dressing gown and pulling off his trousers.
"Please don't Leopold, please," Isabelle whispered in a frightened voice to her husband, who cut her off with a hard slap across the face.
"Shut your trap whore." He growled at her as she struggled and strived to get him away from her and pull down her dress. After a few moments of strained grunts from Leopold, he entered her roughly, ignoring the sobs and struggles from his emaciated, broken-down young wife, who was not yet eighteen. He slapped her and, at one point, throttled her, before scratching her ruthlessly. He swore and threatened, cursed and mumbled, until he received his share of the orgasm, and rolled over, passed out from the drink. Isabelle rolled off of the bed sobbing silently yet uncontrollably, hoping desperately that Leopold would die, or divorce her, or run away with another. She crawled over to the window and quietly begged the darkness to take him away from her, to let her live in peace once more, without fear for her life or others.
The next day followed the same routine, the beatings, the verbal abuse, the black mail, the rape, until, of course the night came, and Leopold went out for more liquor. Trembling, Isabelle grabbed a satchel and put some of her folded clothes inside it along with Leopold's drink money and a loaf of moldy bread. She brushed her hair and put it neatly on top of her head, feeling strong and courageous, she walked out of the hut and down the cobblestone road to the town's only bar. She opened the swinging door tentatively, and then, seeing her husband, walked in more boldly and straight towards him. Rapping him sharply on the shoulder, she spoke;
"I'm leaving you Leopold, I'm sick of the abuse and violation from you, my drunk of a husband. If you ever step within a mile of me, I'll have you hunted down and killed like the cur you are."
At this, the whole bar had gone silent, and all eyes were on Leopold and his wife, both of whom, were staring each other in the eye. Leopold's face had flushed beet red, and his hands were clenched, a sign of upcoming anger. "Goodbye Leopold, I'm no longer your wife." She concluded, and walked briskly out of the bar. Leopold roared with rage and snapped up, his chair falling down behind him, but just as he tried to pull the door open and follow Isabelle, a few of the on-lookers pulled him back, laughing drunkenly. Leopold ran free of their grip and ran out of the bar roaring cussing with rage.
Isabelle looked nervously behind her as she heard a bellow full of wrath behind her from the town. Quickening up her pace, she hurried down the beaten dirt path, hoping desperately that the howl was not from Leopold. Soon, a twig snapped behind her and Isabelle whipped around to see a figure running toward her from far away in the darkness. She could hear the figure's heavy breathing, and the closer he got, the clearer his yells became.
"You ungrateful whore! You pile of shit! How dare you leave me!"
Isabelle's eyes widened with horror as she realized he was Leopold coming to get her. She whizzed around and ran faster than she had ever run before down the empty, shadowy trail. Leopold seemed to get farther behind the faster she ran, until of course, she realized that he was not running after her at all. In fact, when she stopped running to catch her breath and pull the rest of her hair off of the ragged bun on her head, she noticed that she heard no noise at all from his direction, or in front of her or beside her or anywhere at all. There were no crickets, no owls, no people, and nothing else except for one loud scream from Leopold piercing the night. Isabelle found herself creeping off the path into the direction where the dying scream of Leopold's was heard. She slinked behind some ferns and pulled them silently apart to spy upon Leopold, but serenely wished she had kept on running when she saw what lay ahead.
A young man accompanied by a middle-aged one were tearing Leopold's neck apart with their teeth and were slowly lapping up the thick, red blood flowing quickly out of the wound. Leopold was making choking noises and struggling feebly, his eyes bulging out of his sockets with terror and pain. Suddenly, the older male tore Leopold's eyeball out of his socket. Isabelle gasped and fell over onto her backside with shock and repulsion. The two men's heads snapped up and the older one got up and walked towards the bushes after telling the younger man to continue. The older man came closer to the bushes, his bottom half of his face covered in fresh, wet, blood. Isabelle scurried away, still looking at the figure as he threw apart the bushes, then, after looking at her for a split second, pounced on her. The last thing Isabelle remembered was screaming as loudly as she possibly could, feeling sure it would be her last breath, then a sharp pain in her head.
The next thing she knew, she was lying down on a large, finely carved bed filled with rich linen and sheets, and she was wearing her same dress as the previous night. It was dark, and only light was the glow of several torches lit the large cavern she was in. She slowly raised herself up, and clutched her head as it suddenly felt like it was a large stone, with a sharp pain rising through the base to her forehead. She groaned slightly as she forced herself up, and swung her legs over to the side of the bed. Her body felt like lead, and the whole room spun as she pulled herself up using the bed as a support. The glow from the fires hurt her eyes for a second before they adjusted to the light. Night and day were the same in that cavern. It was quite disorienting to not see the sun, or the moon, or whatever the time was, it was not there. The events of the previous night flashed back to her, making her hope desperately it was all a dream, and someone had saw Leopold chasing after her and saved her when she was knocked unconscious or some other hopeful wish she was forming in her head.
She stood there, leaning on the bed posts for some time before she heard a soft whirring of a cloak.
"Your troubles are over." A man's voice from behind her announced in a friendly tone. She whirred around to see a tall middle-aged man with dark brown hair and spectacles, smiling softly at her. Something about him seemed familiar to Isabelle….
"Come, sit." He gestured toward the end of the bed, where he sat and she followed suit, his eyes and voice slightly hypnotizing. "We have much to talk about."
"Is my husband dead?" she asked him quietly, for fear Leopold might be lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce. The man chuckled.
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
"How do you know?"
"Why, my dear, I killed him, along with David. Surely you remember? I feared you were severely injured, seeing as you have been unconscious for several nights now."
Isabelle stood up, her eyes wide with shock, and backed away into the shadows, right into a large object. She jumped and whizzed around to face it, seeing the young man from the last encounter, smiling toothily, and Isabelle noticed with horror that he had two sharp fangs where his eye teeth were supposed to be. She backed up hurriedly, her eyes wide, and turned around to run, but bumped into the older creature.
"We are vampires." The middle-aged one spoke. "My name is Max, and that young fellow is David, and your name is…"
"I-Isabelle."
"Surely your friends and family don't call you by a name as formal as that? What do you prefer to be called, Isabelle?" Max's gaze was strangely hypnotic, and Isabelle felt herself weaken at the knees slightly, before she answered while in a bit of a dream state.
"Izzy."
"Well then Izzy," Max beamed, "we welcome you to our humble abode." Izzy felt David's presence come closer behind her, until they were almost touching. Izzy tried to move forwards, but Max blocked her way.
"Are you going to kill me?" she whispered, thinking out loud. David let out a deep rumble of laughter, though not in a mocking way, more of a…
"My dear girl, of course not! We were planning on something much more…different. How would you like to live forever? To be forever young, never die or grow old. To be free to whatever you wish." Max finished.
"What are you?"
"Vampires, my dear, vampires. You don't deserve to waste away slowly with men who beat you, come with us."
Isabelle felt David press himself to her from behind and brush her hair behind her shoulder, exposing her neck, and part of her shoulder in her torn dress.
"Carry on, David. Don't struggle Izzy, please. It will be much easier on you if you just let yourself enjoy it, instead of dreading it. Becoming like us isn't as bad as you think. Not in the least."
Izzy tried to turn around and away from David, but he had grabbed her hands, and the more she struggled, the more stronger he became. Max smiled as he turned around and left her and David alone. David's fangs slowly brushed against her bare neck and shoulder, and Izzy had to fight to keep her knees from buckling, and to keep her trembling under control. David bit down hard into her flesh.
Izzy began to tremble as the blood flowed out of her neck and into David's mouth and a strange feeling swept through her from the wound to her toes. The deep red blood continued to flow from the wound, and it seemed to pour out after a while. Her whole body felt numb, except for a streak of pleasure going from her chest to her crotch. The more blood was lost, the wider the sense of bliss became throughout her, and stronger. Soon, David stopped, and the two stood there for a second.
Izzy heard a slight ripping sound, and felt David slowly turn her around. He had taken part of his shirt off to expose his ivory neck, with a thin line of blood slowly trickling down.
"You must drink it to become one of us." He spoke deeply to her, an intense look in his eyes, his face a vampire's face. Izzy found herself putting her arms on his shoulders and sinking her growing teeth into the cut in his neck. The green blood seeped down her throat, tasting better and better with every sip, and she felt like she was having a massive orgasm with every drop. She felt herself becoming stronger with every gulp, and her once weak body felt more re-vitalized. Then, she felt the room spinning and her body contracting with pain, then a seemingly eternal darkness.