the immortals' faces.
"Sorry for my outburst.” Ryan cleared his throat. “I realize this information is a lot to take in. Anyway, you look like you need to stand up. Get the tasty blood circulating again. " He reached for my hand.
As if.
Hesitantly I slid from the bed, keeping an eye on them. "I don't want to know anything else." I scanned the room for an escape route. Instead I caught sight of their cold stoic faces.
Darkened by hoods, two pairs of identical eyes riveted to me.
"I'm afraid we can't do that, darling. The contest begins in one week," said the second figure.
"Yes. And there's really no need to worry, Tatum. We'll take excellent care of you. No one's going to hurt you. I hope you understand that."
"Really? But what about the disposal—”
" Really . Everything will be fine." Ryan smiled. This time it seemed fake.
Those lengthy pointed teeth were another matter...
The two men left me in silence where my fears haunted and tormented me.
Disposed of. The freak's words ricocheted in my memory.
Scared. Scared. Scared. Terrified.
How? How the hell would I get out?
Scared. Scared. Scared. Disposed of.
No windows. What the fuck kind of house had no windows ?
A lone locked door was the only exit from this hell.
I sat on the bed, staring as I verged on mental collapse. It'd be best if my mind slipped into blissful madness.
Scared. Scared. Scared.
Nauseated, I shuddered as my teeth chattered. Cold but not really cold.
With no discernible end to this misery, I lowered and rolled to a fetal position while slowly, slowly rocking. Thoughts of the so-called contest were shoved aside. Couldn't allow myself to dwell on grim details.
Needed to plan exactly how to survive this game. That alone was my option.
Survive.
Dear god please save me. Don't let them hurt me.
A miracle followed for I drifted to sleep.
* * * *
J ardin d'Eden.
French for Garden of Eden. Strange name for a strange town. Ironic as well.
I tossed in bed, then faced a blood-red wall. The wallpaper had intricate swirls with a silky texture, and I ran my finger along its slick surface.
I lost any sense of time, though what did it matter? There was no way of telling time. No windows to hint the darkness of night or light of day, and apparently vampires didn't keep clocks.
Vampires. I chuckled, still rubbing the wallpaper. Christ. I'm losing my mind.
I laughed so hard I snorted.
Rub, rub, rub, rub. That's it, keep rubbing the wallpaper, Tatum.
Hysterical laughter faded as I recalled what happened before waking in this asylum.
I'd gone with two girlfriends to Haut Monde, a nightclub in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. After working all week at a greasy food joint, every Friday night we used fake I.Ds to go clubbing. That was tradition. All we wanted was to relax, drink and have a great time.
Of course it was too much to ask.
I'd sipped a wine cooler as some guy took the stool beside me. I felt his eyes burning into me.
Dance music thumped. Young couples swayed, dipped, danced dangerously close.
Too buzzed to care, I'd lost track of my friends long ago.
I glimpsed the stranger. Golden hair framed a handsome face, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Strobe lights brightened his skin, and the more I drank the weirder he looked. Since red, pink and yellow streaked his face, he was the closest I'd gotten to seeing a pink elephant.
I burst out laughing. He pretended not to notice and maintained an air of composure.
“How old are you, darling?” he asked in a velvety-smooth voice.
Strange to question my age and not my name.
"Eighteen," I said. "Just graduated last year. Thank god that shit's behind me." School had never been my cup of tea. Not with the cliques and asshole jocks.
A quick nod, shades flickering under lights. His nostrils flared.
Overwhelmed by an urge to pee, I excused myself while rushing off. He was gone when I returned.
Never more drunk or relaxed, I sank to the floor. Someone pulled me up by the arm.
That's when
"Sorry for my outburst.” Ryan cleared his throat. “I realize this information is a lot to take in. Anyway, you look like you need to stand up. Get the tasty blood circulating again. " He reached for my hand.
As if.
Hesitantly I slid from the bed, keeping an eye on them. "I don't want to know anything else." I scanned the room for an escape route. Instead I caught sight of their cold stoic faces.
Darkened by hoods, two pairs of identical eyes riveted to me.
"I'm afraid we can't do that, darling. The contest begins in one week," said the second figure.
"Yes. And there's really no need to worry, Tatum. We'll take excellent care of you. No one's going to hurt you. I hope you understand that."
"Really? But what about the disposal—”
" Really . Everything will be fine." Ryan smiled. This time it seemed fake.
Those lengthy pointed teeth were another matter...
The two men left me in silence where my fears haunted and tormented me.
Disposed of. The freak's words ricocheted in my memory.
Scared. Scared. Scared. Terrified.
How? How the hell would I get out?
Scared. Scared. Scared. Disposed of.
No windows. What the fuck kind of house had no windows ?
A lone locked door was the only exit from this hell.
I sat on the bed, staring as I verged on mental collapse. It'd be best if my mind slipped into blissful madness.
Scared. Scared. Scared.
Nauseated, I shuddered as my teeth chattered. Cold but not really cold.
With no discernible end to this misery, I lowered and rolled to a fetal position while slowly, slowly rocking. Thoughts of the so-called contest were shoved aside. Couldn't allow myself to dwell on grim details.
Needed to plan exactly how to survive this game. That alone was my option.
Survive.
Dear god please save me. Don't let them hurt me.
A miracle followed for I drifted to sleep.
* * * *
J ardin d'Eden.
French for Garden of Eden. Strange name for a strange town. Ironic as well.
I tossed in bed, then faced a blood-red wall. The wallpaper had intricate swirls with a silky texture, and I ran my finger along its slick surface.
I lost any sense of time, though what did it matter? There was no way of telling time. No windows to hint the darkness of night or light of day, and apparently vampires didn't keep clocks.
Vampires. I chuckled, still rubbing the wallpaper. Christ. I'm losing my mind.
I laughed so hard I snorted.
Rub, rub, rub, rub. That's it, keep rubbing the wallpaper, Tatum.
Hysterical laughter faded as I recalled what happened before waking in this asylum.
I'd gone with two girlfriends to Haut Monde, a nightclub in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. After working all week at a greasy food joint, every Friday night we used fake I.Ds to go clubbing. That was tradition. All we wanted was to relax, drink and have a great time.
Of course it was too much to ask.
I'd sipped a wine cooler as some guy took the stool beside me. I felt his eyes burning into me.
Dance music thumped. Young couples swayed, dipped, danced dangerously close.
Too buzzed to care, I'd lost track of my friends long ago.
I glimpsed the stranger. Golden hair framed a handsome face, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Strobe lights brightened his skin, and the more I drank the weirder he looked. Since red, pink and yellow streaked his face, he was the closest I'd gotten to seeing a pink elephant.
I burst out laughing. He pretended not to notice and maintained an air of composure.
“How old are you, darling?” he asked in a velvety-smooth voice.
Strange to question my age and not my name.
"Eighteen," I said. "Just graduated last year. Thank god that shit's behind me." School had never been my cup of tea. Not with the cliques and asshole jocks.
A quick nod, shades flickering under lights. His nostrils flared.
Overwhelmed by an urge to pee, I excused myself while rushing off. He was gone when I returned.
Never more drunk or relaxed, I sank to the floor. Someone pulled me up by the arm.
That's when
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