“Elly,” said her father as he caressed her tearful cheek. “Please understand. I’ve lost everything. This deal had to be made. Your brothers, your sisters—they depend on this, on you. Don’t be afraid, my child. Just look at the bright side of things. She promised to treasure you. So, don’t be afraid. Just remember that we’ll always lo-”
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Elly writhed in silence within her prison cell. Blood-stained gouges scarred the dilapidated stone walls and floor. A sliver of moonlight spilled into the room through the small gated window, illuminating her emaciated form. Her body convulsed with every pang of hunger. Oh, she starved! Her face, neck, arms, hands, chest, stomach, groin, legs, and feet groaned and ached. Her mouth stretched open, fangs gnawing at the air in hopes of inhaling the nourishment that simply was not there.
She shrieked, and the room shuddered. Dust and debris scattered all around as she thrashed, rending earth and stone with her claws. Every strike tore the muscles and sinew in her hands, briefly revealing bones underneath before her flesh regenerated. The more she flailed, the deeper the pit inside her grew. Oh, how she yearned to fill that void—and the Beast agreed.
Beast—the name of the blood that that woman injected into her; a parasite with a voice and presence, taking the form of an amorphous shadow that loomed at the back of her mind, sending torrents of unintelligible whispers, yet somehow, she knew its intent—thrive together, or the Beast takes over.
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“Welcome to the family, my darling,” the woman spoke to her. She was tall, beautiful, with ghastly features and eyes that seemed to bore through her soul yet carried a softness that eased Elly’s trembling. “You remind me so much of her,” she continued. “You even have her name.”
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The Beast gnawed at her mind, but outside of her constant agony, she felt its fear, its anger, its loneliness, its desperation to live. Or was it hers? Something about those feelings felt primeval—yet familiar. If she were stripped of all civility and dignity in order to cling to life for a second longer, would this be what she would feel? The hunger overwhelmed her reason; no longer could she distinguish the ownership of the feelings inside her.
Every wail that escaped her parched lips also burst from the Beast’s maw. Its presence encroached upon her, threatening to overpower her will. It tore into her thoughts, eating away at all the morsels that comprised her humanity: happiness, sadness, loneliness, love, hate, anger, pride. It hissed at their insignificance—unneeded morsels, all as nourishing as air yet the Beast devoured them, leaving behind only husks of words that she understood but struggled to relate.
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“You are perfect just the way you are, my child,” said the woman. “It is a grave sin to let you wither you away like the rose you love so much. Time is a prison that dooms the ill-fated. However, you are not like them, so I will gift you eternity.”
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Elly felt the hollowness consume her. She shrunk into herself, almost disappearing into the oblivion, but the Beast held her in its arms. It wrapped her in a blanket of reassurance that no matter what, she will be—they will be alright. She needed nothing else but its comfort.
Strange, how even in this hellish isolation, she never felt truly alone. The Beast was always there. When she rended at her prison, the Beast kissed her wounds. When she lost her senses, the Beast lent its own. When she began to lose hope, the Beast screamed for her. Live, it whispered between the waves of voracity that quaked inside her. Live. Feed. Live. Feed. Feed. Feed.
Yes. She needed to feed above all else. Blood—the nectar that kept the blanket warm around her. A blanket woven by the crimson pool inside the decanter of flesh that she once was. Oh, how she would gorge. The Beast approved.
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Her flesh, organs, and bones amalgamated with the foreign blood spreading within, violently consuming and changing everything it touched, transforming her into a simulacrum that perfectly resembled her once human self. It nestled inside her head. She screamed throughout the entire ordeal, leaving her drained in the aftermath—not exhausted, but famished.
“A beast I am, lest a beast I become.” She heard the woman recite to her. “Face the Beast, my child, and be reborn as mine own.”
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The door opened. Elly scampered away into the cover of darkness. Threat. Hide. Safety.
A woman—that woman—the one who turned her. Her Sire. One like herself. But she locked her here to starve. Why? Why? Why?! Elly hissed.
The woman tossed someone inside—a man, someone familiar, but the part of her that might have remembered was gone. He slumped on the floor, barely breathing. Lacerations covered his body. Rivulets of blood trickled from his wounds, pooling into the gouges on the floor. Its scent snared her heightened senses; succulent, nourishing, intoxicating, her being trembled longingly. Oh, how the Beast hungered. Blood. Blood, BLOOD!
The wounded man cowered beneath the moonlight, eyes darting at every phantom movement in the darkness until his gaze met Elly’s own.
Elly winced. Who was he?—The Beast snarled. Live. Feed. Yes.
The man’s eyes softened.
“Elly,” he whimpered, choking back his tears as he held out his hands towards her. “Oh, my beautiful child. My dearest, it’s your fa—”
Elly leaped forward, fangs bared. Blood is blood.