My name is Isabella, as I found out 12 years ago. Before then, I was simply just a number. Eleven. I spent the first 5 years of my life in a lab, they did tests on me, determined to know every crease and crevice of my mind. I wasn't sure why they cared so much for my powers, but I was just a little girl. I didn't understand how special I was, and I never questioned the old man because it was all I ever knew. I called him "Papa." And even though I was treated like a mere animal, given treats when I was good and punished when I was bad, I can't help but miss it more than anything now.

I still remember every detail of the night everything changed. It was August 25, 1993. I was sobbing in my solitary confinement room because I had refused to hurt -what was it?- Oh, right, a cat. A small furry animal often kept by humans, similar in fashion to how I was kept by Papa, though I didn't know that at the time. Anyway, I was left alone in that room for 4 hours. I was angry at myself because I wasn't able to make Papa happy. I didn't know why I didn't obey him, but I just couldn't hurt it. I found out from my older brother that it was a thing called "humanity." He said there was a little switch in our brain that could be turned off and on and that I must never turn it off because it could be dangerous and compromise our secret. But I still thought about how much of a weakness it seemed to be. I couldn't imagine why something stopping you from getting what needed to be done done was so important to have. But as a small child in that room, I didn't know any of this yet. I didn't know what I was and what I was truly capable of. In fact, I didn't know anything at all.

I was just following a routine everyday, it got to the point to where I would have to be notified a month before a change and given a count down calendar so I was prepared for the change, they learned this the hard way when two guards walked into my room an hour earlier than usual and I severely injured them both and was inconsolable for the rest of the day. Of course, I had to be trained to be able to take the seemingly random increments of solitary confinement, as the only thing they never seemed to compromise with me on was when they punished me.

Of course, at this particular moment, I certainly had to get used to a routine switch as my life would be changed forever. I was waiting on my small cot, staring at the shoot on the wall, anticipating when the metal bottle of red liquid, which I found out later was blood, would be dropped down it. I got fed this magical substance 3 times a day, and apparently, it was very important that no human was around when I drank it. I was told I would lose control and "overwhelm myself," in other words, kill everyone in sight. Little did I know, my feeding time would never come.

As I sat there, the only movement in the room being the dried tears on my by then distracted and emotionless face waiting for feeding, the circular light above my door that I had never seen do anything began to flash as all the other working lights turned off. If I was an epileptic I wouldn't be telling my story right now, I'll tell you that much. I heard yelling and loud crashes outside of my high strength tolerant door, but I didn't move. I had been observed not to care about any of my triggers when blood was in the picture. But, I did care when Papa slammed the door to my room open and dragged me down the hall. I had been sedated with this herb called vervain. Normal human medication worked on me, but vervain was the only thing that stopped my powers. I normally was dosed with this stuff when I was being punished and could no longer be trusted with my abilities, so I couldn't do much as I was pulled away from the only good part of my routine.

Papa pulled me through the hallway and made an uncountable number of twists and turns, even going up and down a few stairwells before lightly shoving me into another confined room, clearly thinking about the convenience of where it was rather than what was in.

The room was full of hundreds of metal bottles. Some big, some small, some open and empty and some full to the brim. I don't remember much after that, only the last words Papa said to me before my urges won over my mind, and I ripped his throat out. "Whatever happens to you after this moment, be good, Eleven. Be safe." Those words echoed through my brain for years after that.

All I wanted to do was go back to that moment and pull my younger self off of him. I would tell her to find her control, to run with him, and never look back. And if that didn't work, I would tell her to never listen to Max. The man who must have started all the chaos that fateful day. The man who manipulated, gaslighted, and tortured me for 3 years. The man who ruined my life. My brother.

Now, we weren't blood related, that would make some parts of my story a little more messed up than they already are, but he called himself my brother because he would soon make me apart of his closed society called "The Underground" where other people like us were apart of. Speaking of which, we were something called "ancestral vampires." We were the vampires that people made myths about hundreds of years ago, but the truth is, me and the rest of these vampires aren't technically vampires. Were the result of a human, demon affair. A half-blood, some would say. And considering the steps that are needed to take in order for one of us to be born, there are a lot more of us than you'd think.

Papa was a demon. He was disowned by the "demon community," as Max called it. He made a lot of ancestral vampires, but I was the only one he had success with, the others didn't make it past being a toddler before having to be put down, due to their hunger. I was the eleventh, hence my old title. Papa would do all these tests on me to try to make a superior child. His ultimate plan was to start his own army. He tried to convince the other demons that this would be good for them. He thought that it was wrong to live in secrecy. He wanted humans to know of our existence and to be put in their place below us. Obviously, the other demons weren't very keen on this idea, which led to his banishment.When I learned of this from Max at the age of 7, I couldn't help but feel that maybe Papa was right. But, as a child filled with anger and saddness after already living 2 years through Max's torment, it was less about his idea and more about how different my future could have been.

Anyway, like I said, I couldn't remember much after I killed Papa. What I do remember is waking up in the most comfortable bed I had ever slept with a young looking man sitting in a chair at my side and pressing a damp rag against my forhead."W-who are you?"was the first thing I said to him. The first thing I noticed was bright blue eyes. It was impossible not to get lost in them. But not in a romantic way, in a sadistic and manipulative way. That was his power, manipulation. All ancestral vampires had a power, not only that, but their body was built for that power. Max, for example, had the look of a nice, easy-going guy. He had curly blond hair that was styled in a casual way. He was tall and protective, looking too. Not in a scary way, but a reassuring way. Skinny, with a little bit of muscle, tall but not too tall, and off-white, slightly crooked teeth. That was the kind of thing that I think helped him the most. A perfect balance of imperfection. It made him seem normal enough for someone to follow his every command.

My power was telepathy and telekinesis. That was why Max wanted me to be a part of his ranks. My build wasn't as complex as some of the others, I just had small, childlike features, brown doe eyes, and a small stature. I was basically made to look like an innocent little girl so I could take my enemy's by surprise."Max, Welcome to the Underground." This was his response to my question.

He had a friendly smile on his face. But soon, that smile would fade. I was different from his other little followers. I didn't fall for his charm. But I certainly noticed it. You might think I was rather advanced for my age, but that's how ancestral vampires are. We are known to pick up our surroundings a lot quicker than humans, though at this point, I wasn't as advanced as most others would be. Just perfect English and advanced understanding of social behavior. But, considering I was stuck in a lab, I didn't know how things worked or what they were. But my other brother (we'll get to him later) believes this heightened my knowledge on the other things I was skilled at. He said that was why I saw through Max's facade.

Unfortunately, Max was also very strongly skilled in social cues, and though he didn't show it at the time, he knew I was going to be a problem. I wished he had the common sense to just leave me on the street, but no, he decided to use my young age to his advantage and try to mold me into his perfect little weapon.The next few months, he spoiled me. Giving me everything I asked for, keeping me in the nicest room, letting me go with him on every mission, that sort of thing. But I never fully surrendered myself to him the way he wanted me to.

Over time, he got scary. It started with the occasional unexplained punishment of being locked in my room for a couple hours, but then the hours turned into days and even a few weeks sometimes. The only person to come into my room was Max. He used to only yell, but then began to get physically abusive. Those moments escalated as well. They went from a smack across the face to him tying me down to my bed and testing out a bunch of cursed items on me.

The worst part was mood swings. Some days, he hated me, and some days, he loved me. On his good days, he would tell me all the things that I know now, the humanity switch, the blood diet, the demons, those things.It wasn't all bad in The Underground. There were a bunch of other not so insane ancestral vampires. This is where my other brother comes in, Stefan. Also, it's not blood related, I don't have any blood relations to anyone except Papa and whatever woman he knocked up to make me. Anyways, Stefan was 372 years old, a fully matured ancestral vampire. That's what it's called when we stopped aging, and we get our full vampire powers. It's almost like we were genetically engineered to be trained for battle. Having our one unique power since birth, in order to give us time to know how to use it. But the whole indestructible, super strong, super fast, non-aging, can only be killed by a wooden stake thing didn't start until we turned 18.

You can imagine that I took comfort in the guy who would do anything to protect me was at his full potential. He was the one who told me all the things Max didn't, I learned our blood was used to heal people. He also told me a little more about myself. My age, my birthday, and my demon given name. Oh yeah, I guess I should mention that we're all already given names at birth by whatever other worldly entity that no one really knows what is. Mine, as I mentioned, is Isabella.

I guess I should also mention that there was somewhat of an ancestral vampire Civil War happening in The Underground. He acted as a double agent, Max thought Stefan was his right-hand man, and Max used me as his new super weapon to ensure he won.

Of course, his attempts to tame me weren't exactly successful. Stefan was the only person who kept me from going completely insane over those past 3 years. But he didn't know exactly how bad Max really was. To him, I was just a troubled little girl being locked in a cell until I behaved with the occasional slap on the wrist. He didn't know about the extreme stuff. Especially when Max and I had our "sessions." This is the part that would have been way worse had Max been my actual brother.

I remember the first time it happened. I was about a year into my stay, and I think Max couldn't control himself around me anymore. My noncompliance seemed to really reach his deeply messed up side. I was glad I was 6 years old with little to no knowledge of how things worked, I like to think it made it not as bad.It started out normal, like just a normal torture session. I didn't struggle or say a word as he tied me down as I had gotten used to the "Max treatment" by then. But, what he was about to do and would continue to do for the next 2 years, I had never gotten used to.

He raped me.

Not in a normal and quick way but in a violent and even more extremely messed up than it could have been way. It would go on for hours. He'd make me beg. He'd make me crawl around. He'd even experiment with some of his cursed objects. When the session had ended, he healed me with his blood and kept me tied down for the rest of the night, either on the floor or on the bed, depending on whether or not I was good.

I really began to want to die at that point. I didn't know what he did to me, and I couldn't understand why it affected me so much more than everything else. I mean, it didn't technically hurt worse. It didn't even last as long as the other things he did. But, unlike the other things, it began to break me down. It began to make me into the perfect little girl Max wanted me to be.

I still didn't tell Stefan, not only did I think it wouldn't matter, but I was ashamed. I couldn't believe Max was actually winning because I was too weak to deal with this one little thing.Trust me, even though I was intelligent, I still had the emotional capacity of a 6 year old. And even though I had certainly proven to have a high tolerance of pain, when I finally cracked, I really cracked.I was numb, I didn't engage with Stefan the way I usually would, I didn't talk out of turn, I was no longer a little girl. I was just a mindless zombie who did whatever Max asked. I hadn't fully gotten used to his screwed up sexual preference, but I hadn't reacted much to it anymore. This certainly didn't make Max happy. He would increase his violence. This just made me feel it less and less.

Now that we have all this background information over and done with, I can officially start my story...

The next chapter will be posted 10/1/23

Hope You Enjoy!!!