Prompt Ramblings - 4. Prompt 220 - First Line

Why are my underwear hanging from the chandelier?

Wait. No. Those aren't mine. Why am I lying on the floor looking at the ceiling?

I try to open my eyes wider but the room seems too bright even with only the chandelier's glow. The floor underneath me feels polished smooth and unyielding like marble. Carefully, I look around with my squinted eyes but everything is so hazy. I don't feel so good.

Rolling over is difficult. My body feels sluggish and doesn't immediately obey my commands. I have to climb to my hands and knees just to gather the balance to possibly stand upright. I stumble once and slam my knee into the hard stone. Even the pain is murky. With a great effort I'm on my feet, my vision and body sways against my will but I don't fall.

Why am I naked?

I turn in a lazy circle. The lavish foyer I'm standing in has a pair of closed doors before me and open doors to either side. A large stairway looms behind me from where I started. There are other pieces of clothing strewn here and there along the floor. The scent of salt and sex are heavy in the air but I don't understand why. The trail of discarded fashion leads me to the left, so I follow it because I can't think of anything else to do.

It feels like night time.

My vision refuses to stay still as I step forward on unsteady feet. Am I starving? I'm so thirsty; I must be dehydrated. My body aches and I feel so damned weak. Thoughts crash into dirty walls inside my head as I struggle to remember.

What's happened to me?

The expensive door frame supports me when my feet refuse. A rush of heat through my face makes me crush my eyes closed. I open them carefully as I step gingerly into the room. The lights are dim which is easier on my eyes but it doesn't stop me from almost tripping on the expensive furniture in front of me. I can smell the sex in this room and something else.

I'm not alone in here.

A number of beautiful young men lay about the room entangled with each other. Their state of undress matches my own. Was there some kind of orgy here? It's hard to see in the dim light, let alone my compromised sight.

Why aren't they moving?

I inch closer and stop when I step in something wet. The carpet is saturated, it's elaborate design darkened in large pools that seem to emanate from the pile of men. My breathing begins to spike as I catch a flash of crimson spatter over several of them. Are they even breathing?

The solitary sound I can hear is my deafening heart rate. Clarity snaps in and out of my vision to the sight of bloody spatter staining the room in all directions. Several of the young men have been tortured and maimed. Is that one missing his head?

Oh dear god. It's an abattoir.

My stomach rolls as adrenaline and horror give me the strength to scramble backwards out of the room, dry heaving as I falter. Even with my muddled senses I'm on the edge of losing control. If I'm not careful I'm going to hyper-ventilate.

What was that sound?

There's a soft whisper of movement across the foyer. Are there more of them? Maybe someone's still alive? That thought alone overrides my better judgement and I stumble hurriedly across the hall as the room tries to spin. Why is it so hard to think? Have I been drugged? I catch myself in the opposite doorway and take a deep breath to steel myself before stepping inside.

More pale and mangled young men litter the room. The blood bath in this room makes a tear escape my blurry eyes. I don't know what I expected to see. I don't understand.

My head swims and catches sight of a man crouched over one of the men broken along the wall. The only occupant of this house wearing clothes, he's examining the youth's arm holding it aloft as scarlet streaks drip from the fingertips. He doesn't belong here. Who is he?

“There you are,” he says as he turns to me, casually dropping the lifeless arm to the floor. Something about his eyes is familiar but I don't know why.

I can't even scream out loud.

Madly I rush for the closed set of doors, praying they're the way out. I can't stay in here. My hands scratch deep lines in the heavy wood when the knob refuses to turn. I shriek when his hand grips my shoulder.

He roughly spins me around and lifts me from the ground. My god, he's so strong. With his arms wrapped around me I have no leverage to hit or kick him. It doesn't stop me from trying in my panic. All the while it feels like he's stroking me as he holds me tight and presses my head to his shoulder.

“Shh. . . don't fight, sweetheart.”

I can't stop sobbing. Nothing I do is helping me free myself. I'm going to be added to the pile of forgotten men in the salons. He's holding me like a lover with the strength of a madman. My arms and legs flail at him and do absolutely nothing. They're useless.

So I bite him as hard as I can. The side of his neck is the only thing I can reach.

He gasps in pain, so I bite harder. The taste of warm copper fills my mouth.

“Yes,” he hisses, “Hurt me.”

The hand on my back rises up and grips my hair. With his freakish strength he holds me in place; I can't pull away. I'm drowning. I have no choice but to swallow and keep swallowing as more blood threatens to choke me. The erotic sounds he's making just makes me cry harder.

When he finally pulls me away, I've already given up. Lines of drooled blood run down his neck and stain his white button down shirt. The panic is gone. My feet won't hold me if he decides to let me go. Breathing heavily, his wild eyes burn into mine.

“Are you beginning to feel like yourself now, Marcus?” he whispers.

I'm starting to feel strangely stronger and my head isn't swimming so fiercely. The fear has retreated. He's still very familiar and the more he looks at me the more that feeling grows. There's something intimate about his touch and the way he holds me.

“I never should have turned you,” he said. His gentle hand smoothed the hair along my temple. “The others warned me but I refused to listen. When you begged me for eternity I couldn't say no.”

With hardly an effort he lifted me, cradled in his arms. I leaned against his chest and looked up at his supple mouth, the points of his fangs just barely visible.

“You cling so tightly to your humanity, you refuse to feed. Then the madness comes upon you.”

He looked so sad as he turned to each of the open rooms. His elegant blond hair framed his porcelain skin and I found myself remembering the affection I possessed for him.

“I'm so lucky to have found you. If the others find out about this carnage they will put you down.”

His mouth grew tight as he swallowed down a rush of emotion. A firm kiss of cold lips left their signature on my forehead as he held me tight.

“I will find a way to help you,” he whispered. “I will not give you up, my mate.”