First Day of My Life

After I had tried to escape I went back to my room and fell into bed, crying. I locked my door behind me, though no one ever bothered me. I fell into a delicate sleep, and the entire night I thrashed in the tiny bed I was given, missing my own more than I would admit.

The following day, Mary taught me the chores I'd be doing around the mansion. I was responsible for cleaning the dishes and linens every day, which wasn't too hard. Mary was a kind, helpful woman, and I was thankful that she was here. She introduced me to the other servants in the house, who were also very kind to me.

Jacques, the chef, had a thick mustache, and even thicker French accent. His eyes were warm and he smiled all of the time. He promised me two buttermilk pancakes every morning.

I got an entire tour of the mansion from another one of the servants, Hanna. She was younger than me, which shocked me at first, but she seemed friendly and showed no signs of emotional or physical abuse, so I didn't say anything. I decided to ask her how she came to be here another time.

The mansion, to the say the least, was huge. There were living rooms and dining rooms and even a library. There were so many bedrooms that I wondered if the mansion had been used as a hotel. There were chandeliers in almost every room and the grand staircase in the front of the house looked straight out of the Titanic. This place was definitely nicer than my apartment.

The next few days I was able to find my way around myself, although I did get lost a few times. Currently, I was trying to find my way back to the kitchen.

I turned a few corners and walked into a living room. This was the same room I had run through a few days ago when I had tasted my last bit of freedom. It was also the same room I had passed a few minutes earlier. I had walked in a circle.

I huffed and took another step when I noticed he was here. He was facing away from me towards a window, looking out with a distant look on his face. There was no sun today, not that it mattered. I didn't get to leave the house.

I wondered if the sunlight hurt him. Unfortunately, it didn't make him spontaneously combust.

"Are you lost?" I blinked, noticing he was smirking at me. I glowered and squeezed my hands tighter around the basket of sheets I was holding.

"No," I answered, too proud to admit that I was. "What are you doing in here?"

"Last time I checked, this place belonged to me." He started walking closer, looking from the basket to my dingy clothes and tangled hair. "What are you doing in here?"

I glared, "I'm lost." He chuckled, and for the first time, it seemed genuine. His fangs were gone and his perfectly straight teeth practically sparkled. My heart fluttered and it only made me even angrier. "Can you tell me how to get to the kitchen?"

He was now in front of me, only the basket separated us. "Now you need my help?" The way he seemed to tease me was infuriating. I felt my face flush and I tossed the basket at him.

"You can take it, then," I shot, turning on my heel to walk away. His hand jolted out, grabbing my forearm tightly. He twisted me around and pulled me back.

"Don't insult me," he threatened, dangerously close to my face.

"Then don't insult me," I retorted quickly. "I'm not afraid of you."

That was when I noticed he was baring his fangs. He was leaning in closer to my neck, his breath blowing my hair off my shoulder. My breath quickened and I wondered if I pushed him too far. "I can hear your heart beating," he smirked against my neck.

I cursed myself for reacting this way. I didn't want him so close to me, it took away my confidence. He was good at clouding my mind. "Just bite me then," I whispered, surprising the both of us.

He shook his head and released me, and it wasn't until the blood began flooding my arm that I noticed how badly it was hurting. "You're too brave for your own good, Audra," he muttered.

It was then, when I was rubbing my arm and cursing him while melting at the sound of my name coming from his mouth at the same time that I realized I didn't know what to call him. "What is your name?"

His eyebrows lifted but returned when he answered, "Ethan."

"Ethan," I echoed, testing his name.

He handed the basket back to me and I slumped, "You should get back to work. Take a left and go through the second door on the right."

Too proud to thank him, I turned and followed his directions, which in fact, led me directly into Mary. I couldn't help but notice that every time the subject of biting me came up he used any excuse he could to get away.