Do Alphas Apologize? (A Cat's and Dog's book)

A Day of Wasted Hope

-Geoffrey-

I sat, staring at the plate in front of me. I could feel the eyes on me, from all around the room and table. I was at a proper coven, with a dozen vampires here and there throughout the mansion. They called each other family, and they looked it too. I was still staring at my food, unmoving, barely breathing or blinking, almost half an hour later. Mason had gone off somewhere hours ago, and he'd told me to make sure I found my way to the dining hall; to make sure I got food. I couldn't disobey, so I did as I was told. I knew he'd be angry, but I didn't care; I wasn't hungry, and I wouldn't eat anything that corpse gave me. I felt like I was suffocating, all dressed up in whatever fancy clothes he'd wanted me to wear; it was all black and purple and silver, expensive looking, and it fit perfectly. He'd told me he'd gotten me clothes hand made, and a week was plenty of time for a creature that never slept to make clothes for a person that couldn't struggle. I wanted to scream, to hide and hum, to cry my eyes out, to run away and escape this nightmare; but I felt empty. He'd told me not to cry and not to leave or run away in he same minute, acting like he cared for me by forcing me to stay and live this nightmarish hell even longer. A thought struck me, and I finally found a reason to leave the table, abandoning my untouched food on the it and padding as silently as the beasts themselves through the halls.

I heard them, their whispered conversations and gossip. I heard them speaking about me, questioning if I was sane; I heard one mention curiosity about what I tasted like. I could hear them almost as well as I could smell them; a cloying, vanilla and and roses scent that had subtle hints of iron and salt. They smelled like blood and death to me, and I couldn't manage to care anymore. I could feel them from a foot away, the sensation of being touched growing worse every hour; and the pain I felt merely from touching things, walking, breathing... it only got worse. I could still taste his tongue, a disgusting flavor of blood and honey; the memory of him forcing me to kiss him sending vicious chills up and down my spine. My eyes could see just fine- better than ever before, in fact- and the one time the real lights had been on I hadn't been able to open my eyes at all, and it burned even then. I walked in the dark now, as easily as the Vampires themselves, and they were curious about how and why. I could hear them talking, though I kept silent, and they never once asked me for an answer; not that I had one.

In fact, no one talked to me, as if I were some delicate snowflake that wasn't alive and might break if breathed on, or some odd curiosity to be gawked at but never thought of as sentient. I preferred it that way, since I couldn't make friends and be tricked into forgiving the Devils. I wandered around the building, walking around aimlessly and looking inside every room. In one I found paintings, old and dusty; in another I found a kitchen. Behind one, I found two Vampires in some very awkward positions that paused in their actions to look at me. I shut the door and continued walking, zoning out between doors as I struggled to forget the sight of them so... intimate. I wandered for hours, and I only stopped when I was forced too; I was reaching for yet another door when Mason grabbed my hand, eyes cold as he glared at me. "One, don't open that door. Two, you are coming with me, and you will eat what I serve you. Understood, pet?" I nodded, fully following him with my eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

I was expecting it when he had me sit and eat the cold dinner he'd apparently made before, though it hurt to bite, chew, swallow, and even hold the fork. When I finished, he watched me while I stared blankly down at my plate. We sat there like that for who knows how long, until he growled, yanking me upright, grabbing my face to force me to look into his eyes. "You acted so alive when you fought us! Why the hell are you dead now?!? What could I have possibly done to kill your fire?!? I've done nothing but try to rile you up!" He glared at me, and I stared at him, then I hit him. He lurched backwards, holding his face with one hand while staring at me in confused anger, his rage cooling. I glared at him, then let my anger die, returning to my lifeless staring. "E-Everything hurts... a-and I h-hate you. I n-never had a-a w-will t-to start, a-and you b-broke what I-I thought I h-had w-when y-you..." I breathed shakily, tears welling up in my eyes. "I-I'd rather d-die th-than k-keep l-living in th-this h-hell." I spoke so low it sounded like a whisper even to me, and I knew he barely heard it; my voice soft and monotone as I stared dejectedly at He floor. I was already pretty much dead, I knew I would never get my life back, so why should I even bother acting like I had a chance?