"You are not trying very hard to please me."
"You said you could detect if I lied. You would prefer I were to act the sycophant while you can hear the lies dripping from my throat? You asked these questions, and I believe you knew the answers before you asked."
And then I dared to risk everything. I raised my face to hers, displaying the art embedded in my face. I met her gaze, staring into her eyes. They smoldered, and I caught a glimpse of red tinge. "You bought me to display me like one of my paintings. Will your friends sample from my neck as well? Will you all laugh at how far the human has fallen, becoming your plaything? Will you pass me around, a bite here, a bite there? Perhaps you will also rape me in other ways, or perhaps you will only watch while others rape me. What you already are doing is one rape, so what a small step to others."
"Silence!" she thundered.
I shrank from her for a moment, but then I stiffened my back and stared into her eyes. Her fangs were long and slender, protruding from her mouth, and her eyes had turned black. She did not breathe, and so she did not pant like a living human would, but her anger, her rage, was evident in her furrowed brow and rictus smile. At her sides, her hands clenched into claws, and I wondered if she would rip out my throat.
Surprisingly, the thought of dying no longer scared me. It had taken so little time. A part of me wondered if I were a weak spirit to accept death so easily.
"Did I taste good last night?" I asked. "Imagine what it would be like to gorge on me, to drink from my throat as my heart pounded first in fear and shock, but then slowed and slowed as I grew weaker, until finally it stopped beating and I lay limp in your arms."
"Silence!" she screamed again. "What is wrong with you?"
"Am I to be silent, or am I to answer your question?"
She slapped me. I never saw it coming, but she didn't kill me with the blow, so she must have controlled it. I slumped to the floor, my hand pressed against my cheek, and fought back the tears of pain. Then, slowly, I returned to kneeling in front of her, looking up at her.
"You hit like a girl," I told her quietly.
Her hand reached out and wrapped around my throat, and she lifted me until I strained in her grasp, my hands around her wrists, struggling to free myself. I stood on my tiptoes, and it wasn't enough to release the pressure on my throat.
"What is wrong with you?" she screamed. "Don't you know how hard it is for a vampire to control her temper?"
Then she threw me onto the bed, and before I could turn around and taunt her again, the door was slamming, and I heard the lock click loudly.
"Chicken!" I yelled at the door. "Animal!"
There was a loud thud against the outside of the door, and then there was silence.
They left me alone for hours. No one brought me lunch, which didn't particularly bother me. But what did bother me was the complete lack of any way to count the passing of time or occupy myself. The only light was from the overhead fixture, twelve feet over my head. I eyed it, wondering what trouble I could create, and that was when I realized there were cameras mounted near the ceiling. They were subtle, but I should have seen them yesterday.
I guess I hadn't been that observant.
After that, I searched my prison. There were four cameras in the main room and three in the bathroom. I decided there was nowhere in the two rooms where I couldn't be observed.
I wondered if Penny knew about the cameras. I wondered if there was audio as well. I wondered whether they recorded it. I wondered if anyone watched me all the time or only when the vampire wanted to watch me. I wondered who else could watch me.
I made rude gestures to all the cameras. I contemplated trying to break them, but the only thing I could have done is stand on the bed and swing the chair at them, and I didn't think I could reach. The ceilings were very high.
I tried it anyway but discovered the bed was bolted in place.
I eyed the hoops and hooks embedded in the walls. I had a pretty good idea what they were for. But I wondered if I could climb them high enough to reach the cameras. I discarded that idea; there were no hoops near the corners.
Unless I broke the chair into pieces and threw them at the cameras, I wasn't going to be disabling them, and I had no illusions about my ability to throw firmly enough to disable them.
I offered another rude gesture and wondered if anyone saw me.
I prowled around the room, looking for other options to cause mischief. I decided the chair offered a choice for destruction, but there wasn't that much I felt the need to destroy. There was a mirror in the bathroom, which suddenly struck me as exceedingly foolish.
I moved into the bathroom and stared at my reflection, turning my head from side to side. The technician had done a good job with the tattoo; I hated it. It had once been one of my favorite pieces, but now I hated the original painting, too, and perhaps would grow to hate everything I had once produced.
I flipped over my lip to see if I could figure out how the rings were embedded in my lip. It was actually just below the lip, with the backing against my gums. It was distracting, but hadn't yet turned irritating. I wondered if I would get used to it.
I wondered if I'd be alive long enough to get used to it.
I stared at the mirror for a while, not my reflection, but at the mirror myself. I thought about whether I could break the mirror then use the glass to slit my throat. I looked up at the cameras and wondered how quickly I would draw attention if I tried it.
"How much did you pay for me, you bitch?" I asked. "You said it was quite a lot. I have no idea what a blood slave costs. It can't be that much. We're just a walking meal, and we're all walking meals anyway. We bleed for you four times a year already. Shouldn't I be worth more alive, providing meals for another several decades? But I suppose your depraved fun is worth something."
No one answered.
I moved to the bedroom and grabbed the chair, hefting it by the back legs. I waved it at the cameras. If anyone were watching, she would see me. I waited, but no one came running, so I stepped into the bathroom, waiting a while longer.
I wound up and swung it towards the mirror, stopping at the last instant. Then I waited.
Nothing.
"Hello!" I yelled. "Pissed off blood slave in here. I suppose if I slit my throat, you'll be here in seconds to lap up the blood as it pours from my body. I suppose this isn't much of a threat."
I moved back to the bedroom and set the chair down, then sat down on it.
I tried to envision slitting my throat with a piece of glass. Was I capable of suicide? I imagined as angry as I'd made her, the vampire was going to see that I suffered, and I had no doubt of her ability to do so. I was clearly capable of angering her, knowing the likelihood she would kill me was high.
I thought about what the next three years would be like. I thought about the likelihood I'd live through it.
I didn't have any answers.
* * * *
I ran out of things to do.
I slept for a while, then prowled the room. Slept. Prowled. Sat on the bed.
Cried.
I grew angry with myself and went back into the bathroom, again contemplating suicide. I wondered whether I would rather taunt her into killing me than doing it myself.
I prowled and slept some more.
The sound of the lock woke me. I sat up but didn't climb from the bed. Penny stepped in carrying a tray. She glared at me, a glare that grew fiercer when I didn't fall onto the floor in front of her.
She set the tray down against the wall next to the door then straightened and glared at me.
"You made her angry."
"I noticed. It wasn't exactly an accident. Nor was it all that difficult."
"Of course it's not. We all work hard to keep her calm, and you intentionally sent her into a rage. Who do you suppose paid for it?"
"Well, I had expected it to be a fatal choice on my part," I said. "It was going to be bad enough kneeling to her, but to know you had it in for me,
too. Well, do you think I care if you suffer? If you don't like it, get another job. You have that choice. I, however, am here until I die. I don't intend that to be any longer than it takes for her to come do it."
"You are an idiot," Penny replied. "Do you think she can't make you suffer without killing you?"
"What's taking her so long? I gave her enough reason."
Penny smiled, and it wasn't friendly. "Having a nice time in here? All alone. Nothing to do."
"That's my punishment?" I asked. "Scary."
"She's bled half the staff," Penny said. "She'll be back for you when she's sure she won't kill you. You'll regret making her angry."
Then she stepped out, and the door locked behind her.
I stared at the tray of food. I thought about ignoring it, but I was hungry. I collected the tray and eyed the food carefully. I wondered what Penny had done to it. I decided it didn't matter. I ate as much as I wanted and left the rest, replacing the tray next to the wall when I was done.
I was done cooperating.
* * * *
The vampire returned sometime later. I was on the bed, staring at the ceiling, envisioning patterns. In my mind, I saw a spider web of lines, this slight blemish connected to that little bump. I was just about to envision them in motion when the door opened.
She stood in the doorway. I glanced at her and went back to staring at the ceiling. She stepped in and closed the door, staring at me. I pretended to continue to design my patterns, but my heart was pounding and I could feel the rising fear.
I couldn't stand it any longer. "Are you going to drain me to death or torture me for a few days first? It's going to happen one way or the other, so we may as well get it over with."
I never saw her move, but in a heartbeat, her hand closed around my throat and she lifted me from the bed, holding me above her. I struggled to breathe.
"I can smell your fear," she said. "I can hear your heart hammering in your chest. You are not remotely as nonchalant as you pretend."
I struggled in her grip, and slowly she turned and lowered my feet to the floor, her grip never leaving my throat. Then slowly she relaxed the grip on my neck as well, and I bent over, coughing. She walked away then turned and watched me. Eventually I got my breathing under control, although my heart never slowed down.
"I am going to give you a few choices. We can have a civil conversation and determine what is to happen to you. Or you can defy me, and I will proceed to work very hard to break your spirit. I will not kill you in the process, but you will wish I would. You may think you can anger me into making a mistake, and to some extent you are right, but I will not make that large a mistake. If you take plan B, I will spend the next three years visiting depravities upon your body you can't even imagine, and the day before your sentence is to expire, I will devour you."
"That's what you are going to do anyway," I spat.
She stared for a moment. "You are always able to defy me after the civil conversation. Do you wish to at least attempt that first?"
"If I asked you to drain me right now?"
"I would refuse. Frankly, I spent far too much money on you for that. If I intended to drain you, I would savor you. That is not my intention, either. Please, Melissa, may we have a civil conversation?"
It was probably the 'please' that did it. I slumped, then turned to the chair and set it down facing the bed. I moved to the bed itself and sat down, gesturing to the chair. "Unless you would rather have the bed, of course."
"This is fine," she replied, moving into the chair. She was graceful, amazingly graceful. I was at a decided disadvantage.
"You wish a civil conversation, but I sit here, naked. It is hardly civilized when I am at such a disadvantage."
"And clothing would give you the semblance of less disadvantage?"
I sighed. "I suppose it would be only an illusion. I was an artist. Isn't that what I once did, giving the semblance of three dimensions while working in two?"
"Is this what you wish to discuss?"
"You called me 'Melissa' rather than slave."
"And I said 'please'."
"More illusion?"
"Perhaps recognition you are not entirely powerless," she replied. She smiled. "And that is what you were trying to do. Take back some semblance of control, what little was available to you."
I looked down at my hands in my lap.
"Why are you bothering?" I asked her. "Aren't you looking forward to breaking my spirit? I can't imagine it would take very much. Or maybe you intend to fill me with hope so it will be that much more delightful later."
"You are convinced of the worst of me."
"I believe I have ample reason."
"Can you enumerate your reasons while remaining civil?"
I looked up. "You have declared me your property. You have permanently marked my face and defiled my past art in the process. You demand my abject obedience and humiliation. You imprison me. You have informed me that the only way I will survive is by toadying to you in fashions I can only imagine, but of which I have been given the smallest of choice. You place me at the mercy of your household staff-"
She interrupted me. "What do you mean by that?"
I glanced up at the cameras. "Do you record?"
"Yes."
"Audio?"
"Yes."
"Then look for yourself."
Her eyes narrowed. "What has Penny told you?"
"Let's just say I was not apologetic when she informed me you took your anger out on the household staff."
She clenched her teeth.
"Perhaps I should remain quiet while you pull your emotions under control. Weren't you the one who advised me to manage my own?"
I watched her battle herself. It took several minutes before she asked, her teeth still clenched, "If I review the tapes will I grow angrier?"
"That depends on how you feel about my kissing your maid's feet under threat."
I didn't even see her leave. One moment she was sitting in the chair facing me, and the next she was gone, the door slamming closed. I stared after her. When she didn't return after a few minutes, I began to wonder if she had locked the door. I hadn't heard it click. I wondered what I would do if she hadn't.
I wondered if I could stand the temptation if I knew the door was unlocked.
Where could I go? Could I even get out of the house? How far could I run? How long would it take her to track me. I knew I couldn't turn to anyone for help. The punishment for helping an escaped blood slave was to become a blood slave yourself. I couldn't do that to anyone. And it wasn't like I could hide my status, not with this tattoo on my face.
I stared at the door.
I tried to turn my back on it, but I could practically hear it calling my name.
"She didn't lock me," the door tempted. "You could run."
Finally I couldn't stand it any longer. I crossed the room, stopping before the door. I stared at the handle.
I reached out and turned it, pushing the door open.
I stared at the opening.
"Where would you go, Melissa?" I said out loud. "What are the chances you can make it off the property? Even if she's lying about tracking you, there's nowhere to go. Anyone willing to take in a runaway blood slave isn't going to be any better."
I had swung the door wide open. I edged my feet to the edge of the doorway, put one hand on the wall to steady myself, then leaned forward, grabbed the handle, and quietly pulled the door closed.
"It's the right choice, isn't it?" I asked myself. I stared at the door for a moment longer then moved back to the bed.
I tried to sleep, but I kept looking at the door, at the illusion of escape. And that was the problem. I knew it was an illusion. "Smoke and mirrors," I told myself.
I couldn't stand it any longer. I headed to the bathroom. I turned the shower on to full hot, and soon the room began to steam up. I stepped under the shower and bathed. I didn't believe I needed the shower, but it gave me something to do.
I took a long shower, the entire bathroom filling with steam. Stepping out, I saw some of the steam had condensed on the walls, leaving streaks, and my eyes were drawn to them. In my eye, I immediately saw patterns, and I began to fill in the details, using my finger as a brush. I built an entire forest scene, drawing in the condensation on the walls and the mirror, a macabre scene in the dwindling mist of the shower.
I was adding details near the floor when I heard her voice.
"Beautiful."
I screeched in surprise, nearly jumping out of my skin. I hastily brushed my hands over the walls and mirror, destroying the drawing, before turning to face her.
"Why did you erase it? Are you that unwilling to share with me."
"I hadn't intended it for anyone else to see. I thought it would be gone." I looked at her. Her blouse was stained in blood, and I gulped.
"Is she dead?"
"No. She is on the way to the hospital. She'll be fine after a transfusion. I should not have touched her while so angry. I drained her nearly to death. You won't see her again."
I tried to judge if she had deserved it. I decided I was too close to be objective.
"Shall we continue our conversation?"
She was standing in the doorway, and I gestured.
"The towel," she said. It was wrapped around me.
I sighed, removing the towel and hanging it up. I tried to hide my nakedness from her.
"Please don't," she said. "You are a beautiful woman. I enjoy looking at you."
"Fine," I said. "You can see mine. How about letting me see yours?"
She laughed. "That would not be wise."
"Oh? I would not call you beautiful, but you are very striking. I imagine men desire you. Is your body hideous?"
"You do not find me beautiful?"
"Is this the conversation you want?"
She smiled. "You brought it up."
I stepped closer and took her hands. "These are beautiful," I said. "Delicate."
"Like your art."
"I would draw your hands," I said. "And your nose. But you are stark, and that is not the nature of my art." I paused. "Perhaps if I can ever paint again, my art will have changed. I do not believe I will ever paint like I once did."
"That thought saddens me," she said. "I will ask you to not come to that conclusion. You have had a shock. Humans are fragile but resilient at the same time."
Blood Slave Page 7
