Deranged Loneliness
<The days have all bled together, but I continuously make my small marks to track the days. 827 days … I wonder everyday what happened to my sisters, to The Primale … what of the Scribe Virgin. Was anyone looking for me? Did anyone miss me?
The lonely solitude of my existence weighed heavily every night. I sang, not because I was happy or joyous but because the echoes it made in the caves were my only company. None of the males ever spoke to me. I barely heard the low murmurs of their conversations. I could hear the fights and the struggles from the other prisoners against our captors. Sounds of chains jangle through the night, the resonance from the whips once kindled great fear … but the ripping of the skin and the screams they caused were never to be my future. Although I was also a prisoner … I have never been tortured … just used as a blood slave. I wasn’t even a pet by even those standards. My blood was the only thing they wanted.
I should be thankful … and I had been at first. But isolation only grew more and more infuriating. No one would ever speak to me. No one would say a word. I was given water and food by different males. Each one bringing me clean dishes filled with food, always more that I could ever eat. A bucket with clean warmed water would be brought with towels to me. Then everything would later be picked up somehow while I was asleep and the events repeated themselves over and over. The only changes … occasional clothing, books, and everyday things would be brought in while I was asleep.
The first few weeks, I couldn’t rest. I was petrified that I would be violated or tortured or killed. Once the routine started, I began to relax and was able to sleep through the days. Days that could barely be tracked but through the light that I could a scant glimpse at the long end of the other side of the cave. As with all vampires, our bodies would indicate when the sun had risen as well but I began missing having the moon shine down on my face and seeing the night skies.
I came from a world with all white and every night I awake to a world of dark browns, greys of the dirt and ceiling. At first that kept me occupied looking at all the different colors, being acquainted with the different food provided for me. It was all unlike I ever seen at the Sanctuary where I had been born and raised.
How I missed the white, the lightness and tranquility. My once white robes have been long replaced with clothing I had difficulty understand wearing until I paid close attention to my captors attire. The flowy materials that were similar to my robes were easy enough to understand and the pants were familiar enough given that The Primale wore something similar. But, as Chosen … were not accustomed to wearing anything different that our robes. As the months grew colder, it made it paramount to keep warm. The males would build a fire near my cell and I was grateful.
But the loneliness was my only companion.>