Once upon a time….

Well, it was not that long ago, I am just being dramatic.

Okay.

Twenty- three years ago, a man by the name Ashton found a baby by the road on his way from the market. Now, don’t be fooled by the name, the man was anything but decent. He was a hard worker, I will give him that. He had just had one of the longest days selling desks and chairs in his tiny shop, if we can even call it that.

In his right hand was his bag, heavy with his working tools. In his left hand and over his shoulder was the chair he had been working on since afternoon.

It had not been a good day. Life was hard and harsh in the southern region of Kuala town. The days were long and hot while the nights were short and also hot. Rivers were drying up from the draught that plagued the land. Forget about decent jobs, everyone had a hustle they were pushing to get by but even that could not get them decent food and clothes on their bodies.

Imagine the irritation Ashton felt when he heard that intense wail from the road side, especially because, as he had been working, he had also been taking some liquid courage to bare through his pathetic life.

The man walked through even though it had been obvious that the cry came from a wee baby.

He walked a few feet only to stop.

‘ A baby, maybe I could make some money off it.’

That was the thought that had him stop in his tracks, place all he had been carrying down then track back.

His eyes wrecked through the side road bushes until he saw the beautiful clean baby smelling so good and wearing the best clothes the man had ever seen in his life.

It was obvious the baby came from a well off family and he could not help smelling her over and over again. She had a sickly sweet smell and looking at her red face, he suddenly felt such hunger come over him.

He was a barbarian savage but feeding off a baby, well, that would be a new low for him. Especially because, his wife and he had been trying for a baby for centuries but at some point they gave up.

The baby was the tiniest he had ever seen. After mauling over her sweet smell he took a closer look, looking for any signs of what she could be because she did not smell like a vampire. Tired and irritated, he picked the baby up as he could, having her cry even more from pain but he could care less.

He picked up his things and went on with his walk. The sun did not take kindly to him, pissing him off even more.

He got home and shoved the baby to his old wrinkled wife. They had had a long depressing life.

Selling the baby was the first option but seeing how poor everyone was, no one could careless about a baby. They were left with no other option than to keep the little stinky baby that cried so much they were tempted to kill it.

Five years went by and little Flavia was put to work. She could not just eat, sleep and stay in their house for free. A slave is what she had been turned to. She collected water, cleaned and cooked for the old couple. As the years went by more chores were thrown at her even those her little body couldn’t take.

Life was hard for the little girl. She was not loved and wanted, a life no one was supposed to live through yet there she was.

It can’t get worse, she thought but who was she kidding. Her life was as if lemons were squeezed when she was created, having it sour.

Her sixteen birthday hit and the worst thing that could happen to anyone in a vampire world did.

Her body was hot, feeling like she would explode. She cried and tried to keep it down but at a point it was futile.

Ashton and his wife came rushing to the dirty kitchen floor where Flavia lay at night to rest, her dirty torn clothes turned wet with sweat.

Her throat was as if to tear from her screams but that was just the beginning.

Hours on hours passed with her whimpering until she began shaking.

The two elders were just watching, wanting to go back to sleep but also fascinated to see what was happening to the awful little girl they had raised.

Her body convulsed, ready to throw her out, thinking she was possessed by an evil spirit but if only, if only it was that.

Bones cracked, loud painful cries echoing as if the sky would tear and the world would end. Blood seeped from the girl, her bones rearranging under her skin as it stretched to all sorts of shapes.

As soon as it had began, it stopped, nothing but dangerous silence hanging in the air.

The couple could be heard heaving, their eyes wide and their cold hearts drumming hard, knowing nothing good could come from that.

Now, understand, vampires hated all species, they never played nice. They hated faeries, they despised witches and they could never stand dragons but worst of all….. The worst of all were werewolves, so imagine the chaos when the little girl stood on four paws, her silver wolf with tawny accents making its big debut.

FLAVIA’S P.O.V

Plop…..

Plop…..

Plop….

A door opened.

My head was hanging over, my hands bound by ropes laced with just a little bit of silver to keep me weak but not to the point of death.

Ashton and Wendy wouldn't want me dead, now would they? How would they afford the new house they bought ? How would they eat the food they ate if not for me ?

In my eyes, they were supposed to be worshiping me. I made them, I made them what they were at that point.

A chuckle rumbled from my chest but instead of it pouring from my mouth, a fit of coughs exploded with blood pouring out.

My body suddenly shook, shivering deep to the bone.

I was cold, I was so cold.

My head picked up, or tried to but instead, I lolled back with my back and neck aching in a way I never thought it would. I was not a stranger to pain, pain was my companion, it reminded me that I was still alive, that I was a living creature too.

Instead of the chuckle that had roared so powerfully slipped out a few tears. I felt them roll down my eyes, felt them burn my skin and for a second I basked in their heat.

What had I done?

The soft voice I hated in my head cried out and it had me jerk up only to be zapped by the silver from movement. I bit my lip hard with the pain moving in waves all over my body.

How could people who I had worked so hard for do this to me? Seven years of torture, seven years of crying and begging. I would not beg anymore. I would never beg anyone ever again. I hated them, I hated all of them. I hated their species, I hated their smell, their long sharp teeth and blood sucking red eyes. I hated all of them.

If hate could kill, they would all melt and die from my hatred.

The cough died down and I could finally breathe, the voices noted but I could care less. I tried to pull up my head again but failed. My body swung from the effort, moving back and forth.

A hand came at my waist, it cold and I shivered.

My throat closed, my body quivering with my mind going in panic. I knew what was to come. It was a brand new day after a long cold night. My body had tried to heal itself but my wolf was weak and needed healing itself thus my body was still blue black.

I knew the awful lady was talking to me, I could hear her laugh echo all through the dark room they had built under their new house. It was specially made for me, to chain me up with no way to escape.

I knew she was happy, hearing and feeling it. She carried a tune, why wouldn't she, she was rich. I mentally shook my head. Something cold and wet was placed on my skin, my mind working over time to comprehend what it was. It was slow, after years of torture and abuse, it had broken down.

At times I was afraid I had lost it, I had lost my mind. Sometimes I was afraid I had lost all sense. Sometimes I just wanted to laugh all night, sometimes cry all night but I would hold myself with the thought that maybe just maybe I had gone mad.

A sponge, yes, it was a sponge.

The water ran down my legs, she cleaning and getting me ready for the day that was on us. She was getting me ready for my every day hell.

Just die, just die.

I chanted in my head, wondering why wouldn’t I just die.

She went around my bare breast, paying much attention which had me frown. From there she came to my private parts. I hung still, she taking her time.

I don’t know why I was just getting this bad feeling all of a sudden. My stomach was always sore from hunger but at that point it turned with nothing but fear. I hated feeling like that.

My ears tuned in, wanting to hear what she was saying suddenly.

I was scared though, scared to even listen. I knew it was coming. I had known since I was twenty with my body welding itself to womanhood that one day I would truly suffer. I knew that one day they would take it far, too far and truly break me.

The fear hit hard, whimpering as she began shaving off my private parts.

“ Today you will have a special guest, you know him. He is willing to pay a lot for a special session. You should be proud, we raised a beautiful girl Flavia….” Wendy bubbled on and on as she proceeded to shave my legs.

I thought I had finally died. I did not breathe, I did not blink nor move for the longest time. Her words did not make sense suddenly, hearing an echo in my head but not settling, not making sense.

I told you, my mind was breaking.

My lips trembled, everything suddenly setting into place with the meaning of the words clear and clair.

My body moved, pushing away the pain, pushing away the bolt from my wrist as the rope dug into my skin, spreading the poison into my blood.

My mouth opened, the plea pushed out but I had not talked in so long, only a low disturbing sound came out and I was grateful. Tears flooded but I angrily pushed them back.

I wanted to beg, I wanted to beg so hard for mercy. I wanted to beg them to please not do this but why? I would never beg them again. The stubborn part of me had me bite my tongue so hard it drew out blood. I would rather die than beg them.

I had learned a long time ago that they would never let me go, that they found pleasure in seeing me in pain. They hated me as much as I hated them.

Wendy placed the short wrap-around she usually wrapped around my chest down to my mid thigh but she stopped.

“ Let’s leave off it today, it will bring in more customers.” She finished off, nodding her head as I felt sick to my stomach. My stomach finally gave the final kick, gagging but no food to take out. It just had so much pain explode all over my body, my intestines eating each other. I gagged again, feeling like acid would pour out. My throat burned hard.

The door closed, Wendy done with her clean up and I was sure there was a long line already.

Meet a Werewolf! That was what they called their little business, how unoriginal.

Apparently, vampires were at war with my species. I knew nothing of what I was besides that I could change into a wolf. At first she used to talk to me. She was strong, head strong even worse than I was but with each day of the torture she drew back little by little until there was just a void.

A part of me was scared. A part of me was scared they had finally killed her. I could feel the shadow of what she once was. I could feel the burning fire she once carried dimming down little by little. It killed me more than everything they had done to me.

She was mine, she was my wolf, the only creature that had been on my side. Even with the torture and pain, her sole purpose every day was to keep me alive, to keep me fighting, to never give up. So why would I betray her now and cry? Why would I betray her by giving up?

I was never going to allow them to win. I was never going to allow them to break me. I could make it out and I knew I would have to do it sooner than later. They had taken so much from me but they would not take anymore, they had taken enough, no more.

The door swung open.

I could hear it creak, cheat asses, no matter how much money they had, still buying cheap things. You can never take a pig out of shit, I guess. My head hung low and you would think I was unconscious but I was there. I could hear everything, counting thirteen hearts just that moment. I knew the number would multiply as the day passed.

They talked to each other, laughter heard echoing all through the dark halls built for nothing but wickedness.

They had left their soul mates, left their children to come and get a piece of me. I should have been gloating. I brought old men, all across town to come and have some fun in their pathetic lives.

I was sure they stayed up all night dreaming of the minute they would walk through my door. I was sure it tickled them so much they even dreamed about it. I was sure it was all that filled their heads as they bent over their mates and fucked them. Their lives were that pathetic, so pathetic, beating up a young girl was all the excitement they could get.

I would spit out but my mouth was dry. I felt like just throwing my legs and kicking all around me but I knew that would only peak their excitement. They were sick, all of them.

The worst of their kind were those that would come in and run their fingers through my hair. They would ask me how I am, they would even give me food and water. Some would even bring me beautiful clothes they knew I could never wear. They would pour all their problems on me and I used to fall for it. I used to look forward to them, talking back and accepting all their advances but all they had wanted was for me to get connected, then, they would pull the plug in the most painful way they could.

I had fallen for one I would admit. His name was Brandon. I was sure he was coming even as I hung there. He had been the sweetest, talked about the day he would set me free. He talked about the home he would build for me. He talked about children, that fuck’n bastard. I hated him, I hated him so much.

One day he walked in, his hand coming to my cheek with me leaning into his touch. His hand had slipped away and I had craved it. My mouth had opened, greeting him, asking him of his day and work. I had been sixteen, the kindest anyone had ever been to me.

His body had turned, a whip in his hand. At first I had brushed it off, I had thought he would never hurt me. I had thought he wanted to set me free but he had just been fattening me for slaughter. He had whipped my body so hard there had been no part of me that had not been bleeding.

And the most painful thing was that I had been asking all along, asking him what I had done. I had apologized all through out, taking out words that I hated with all my life, telling him I loved him.

He had just been sick.

I shook my mind from the thoughts it had ventured into. I closed my eyes to open them as the hiss pulled from a man.

My nose sniffed, the awful smell of death attacking me. They all smelled as if they were leeching apart—disgusting, but each disgusting scent was different thus I knew who it was.

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. It was old, disgusting Manson. He was so pathetic he could not even keep his soul mate. I groaned, lolling my head up to stare at him. Damn my mouth for being so dry. He walked over to the table, his hand running through the different weapons.

If I could not escape, I would rather die.

I cleared my throat, watching him pick up the thick spiky bat. It had nails protruding at the head, coated with my blood. My body ran cold, shivering where I was. I swallowed but that would not help, it never helped. I tried to tell myself it would be over soon but that also never helped. I was panicking hard and fast. As smart of a mouth I had, I was still a child inside. I was afraid of the dark, I was scared all the time and as everyone, I did not want to be beaten like a ball one would play with. Each step he took it left me shaking and I hated it. I hated it so much. I did not want to show how scared and vulnerable I was. I did not want to cry but the tears were rushing up so fast.

You would think after seven years I would be used to it but I was not. How could I be used to such treatment? I wanted to cry so hard, cry to the mother I never had, cry to the dead God these people worshiped but I hated him too. I thought my blood had frozen in my veins, thought my brain had finally kicked the bucket.

I quickly tried to think of a happy memory but fuck it, I had none.

It was really going to happen.

I saw the flesh of silver and just squinted my eyes so hard waiting for impact.

He hit me so hard my body swung back but the nails had drove into my skin, stuck there. I wanted to scream, wanted to scream so hard.

It was so painful. I thought he had ripped the right side of my body out.

He forcefully pulled the bat back, ripping my skin apart. It was so much pain I got so high on it.

The scream was caught in my throat, every part of me as if falling off with the blood immediately raining down as if it was summer.

Someone help!

I was screaming in my head, screaming so loud but before I could even take a breath again, the next strike hit. My mouth opened, my head dipping back as he ripped the bat away.

He only had five minutes so he was making every hit worth it. Before I had used humour to get by but they took the punishments so extreme I could barely talk all through out.

Blood poured from my mouth and nose to a point I thought I would cry nothing but it.

The silver in the ropes also drove in with each swing, taking the pain higher than possible. I bit my tongue to let go of it. I coughed hard, each cough just exploding to so much pain. Five minutes had never been so long.

The bat kept coming and coming, and each time I thought I would die, each time I thought my soul was letting go, thought it was finally giving up the fight and letting go but fuck that piece of shit, it held on. Why? Why?

Please could I just die.

I cried out. As much as everyday I said I was not going to cry, I did. I cried so hard mucus ran out with blood. I cried like a hungry baby at night. I cried so hard any soul would be touched but not those in that hall and room. Not the man who had found me by the street as a baby. Not the man I had tried since I was five to please, tried to make happy. Not the woman who I had wanted so much for her to love me, to see me as her child. No one cared, no one helped.

Fuck them, I did not need them.

“ You will rot in hell you stupid ugly blood sucking asshole who can’t even protect his mate!”

In my mind I had spoke it all out so perfectly. In my head I had gave it to the bastard, I had driven it home, made him hate himself but in reality, it had all come out as me blowing out bubbles of blood that had been in my mouth.

Even that had me cry harder, I could not even piss on them. I wanted to raise the middle finger but my hands were bound. My pain had no bounds, my head hanging so dangerously with the fight leaving me as the strikes came over and over until they all stopped.

My ears were ringing, my hands shaking. I was not even really sure that he had stopped because of the pain that had paralyzed me.

I felt myself drift in and out, and if I did not know better I would have been happy. If I did not know better, I would have been laughing at them, laughing that they would finally lose their source of joy but that was not the case.

A bucket of cold water was poured on me, my skin shrinking with my wounds coming together, the skin attaching itself back, trying to mend itself. Before, they would wait an hour or so for the wounds to at least to close up but time was money and time was moving on.

The door opened, hearing the noise outside, the number having doubled of people waiting.

My painfully drumming heart was as if drowning in water, finding it hard to breathe, heaving with the cold from the water making me feel like I was high from a fever.

I heard the feet, trying to ready myself for the next assault but still consumed with the aftermath of the last.

I shook so bad even my head shook, even my hair shook. I shook so bad I thought my wrist would finally slit in half with my body sliding out to the floor. Blood from there rolled down to my shoulders and armpits, the skin having pulled apart, the silver coated rope sitting on an open wound with it burning so bad.

The tears slid down. Could they just give me a break? Could they just please give me a second to collect myself? Could they just leave me alone?

More tears flowed down, sniffling with feet coming to view. Panic rose because I did not know where my new attacker was. I could not see what he had picked as his poison, I could not……

The scream ripped out like a band aid pulled from a wound, fast and hard.

I convulsed, my body jerking around yet it had cried out too early as another strike came.

I felt my teeth as if they were pulling from my gums, begging in my head, begging so loud.

Mercy please, mercy.