Breach- Chapter 1 (Pt. 1)

"Everyone out!"

I was pushed along by the crowd through the darkness. We were ushered out of the cramped, dank room like a flock of sheep. The little strap of my dress had fallen down my shoulder for the umpteenth time, and without my notice, my hand glided up to the strap, resting it back on my body properly. I'd been sitting in the dark for so long that I'd forgotten what color it was. I'd forgotten the color of my skin, my hair, and my eyes.

I'd forgotten what I looked like.

As I continued to be swept along in the sea of people, I noticed something bright. Then, a wave of blinding light shone down on all of us, and we tried our hardest not to cry out as the light burned our eyes. It'd been so long since I'd seen the light, that my eyes weren't able to adjust right away. I blindly stumbled through with the rest of the crowd until I was helped up by a pair of strong hands onto some kind of machine. I finally began to see in the light. I was outside of the holding room. I was inside some kind of room with little slots to see out of. The ground was covered in hay. I saw people around me smiling and crying, and realization hit me.

We were going to be free.

I saw people of dark skin, light skin, and every shade in between under a film of grime. People had black, brown, gold and white hair, all tangled and coated in dirt. Tears made everyone's eyes shine like gemstones, green, blue and amber eyes all dancing with joy. I began to smile, too, and soon the tears began to pour. After four years living in the holding room, I was no longer going to be a slave. The room began to move as the engine of some kind of vehicle roared. I was going to be freed by the Refragatio, and I was going to be my own person at last.

Four years ago, I was only fourteen. My mother had given birth to my sister and I in Castle Drauvnik, where the vampire lord there would repeatedly beat her and the other slaves. My father had apparently been whipped to death by the vampire himself shortly after I was born. My sister was born a year before me, so she was shipped to the holding room before I. The holding room was where slaves that were too young to truly be of use stayed until they finished growing, and then were auctioned off when they were eighteen. I joined her a year after she left, but she was auctioned off almost right away once she turned of age. I missed her and cried every day for nine months, until I finally had no feeling. I was lucky; the Refragatio came a week before the next auction, the start of the season.

I looked at my dress. It was a deep purple dress that barely covered my bottom and dipped far down my chest. The skirt was tattered and made of some kind of rough, puffy fabirc and the bodice was sequined with little jewels. My skin was covered in dirt, so I didn't know what its true color was. I could feel my bones poking out of my skin from lack of food, and some spots on me ached where a vampire guard had tossed me aside to grab another slave during auction season. I picked up a string of my hair. It was covered in dirt, but I could still make out the blue-black color. The color reminded me of the birds that were often outside of Castle Drauvnik, the blue-black birds that gathered into a crowd and cawed every morning until one of the slaves came with bread crumbs.

One slave saw me standing and came towards me, her tiny olive-skinned frame scuttling over, sending her long, light brown tresses bouncing around her face. Her dress was long and brown, a brown underbust corset showing her figure as it sat against her puffy white blouse. Whoever her last master had been didn't seem to care for the more revealing fashions. She didn't look very old and I didn't think she was any younger than fifteen until she spoke, her voice strong,

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, why?"

"You've just been standing here," she looked at her feet and then back up to me, amber eyes sparkling, "I'm Anastasia. Do you have a name?"

I shook my head, "I haven't been auctioned yet. I just turned eighteen last week." Slaves weren't named until they had their first master. I didn't care for a name, I held no value for myself after four years of sitting in the dark, tossed around and spat on.

"Well, you can have a name now! We're going to be free," Anastasia smiled at me, her eyes twinkling.

"I don't care for a name."

"Oh, don't say that!" she lightly took my hand, "You have to call yourself something!"

"I don't need to do anything," my voice came out a little harsher than I wanted, so I softened my tone, "I'm sorry..."

"No, it's fine" Anastasia waved a dirty hand, "Do you mind if I name you?"

"Go ahead" I shrugged. Whoever named me didn't make a difference.

"Hmm," she cocked her head in thought, "How about we call you Amelie...?"

"Amelie?" the corner of my lips twitched into a smile.

"Do you not like that name?" she frowned.

The name didn't really sound right to me. I shook my head and she thought again,

"How about... Esmerelda?"

I shook my head again, and she sighed,

"Violet?"

For the third time I shook my head and she huffed,

"I give up, I don't know!"

"Xyza."

Anastasia and I looked up at a dirty man with matted black hair and black eyes. He was staring at me, deep in thought, smiling to himself.

"What?" Anastasia blinked at him.

"I think the name 'Xyza' would suite her well."

I thought about the name for a moment, rolling it around in my head. I smiled and nodded. The man smiled back,

"Xyza it is."

Anastasia huffed, "I wanted to name her though..."

The man laughed, "Maybe next time. Hello," the man waved to me, "I'm Darel. I see you haven't even been auctioned once yet."

I nodded and he sighed,

"How lucky. Where we're going, you don't ever have to be afraid of someone. You can live and let live; so many would die for a chance like that. Many already have."

Anastasia and I sat by Darel. I listened to them talk about their previous masters, and how Anastasia was beaten when she wasn't fast enough with doing the chores. Darel told us about his mistress, one who would have fun preying on each of her slaves like it was a game. I saw the puncture marks in his neck, and he told us how he'd been his mistress' favorite when she played her game.

We continued to move for some time as we talked until we suddenly jerked to a stop. Everyone sat still, wondering why we stopped. I sat there with Anastasia and Darel, who both began to shrink down like everyone else. They were all afraid. I wasn't. I didn't care. I got up and walked towards the exit of the moving compartment and reached for the door. Anastasia and Darel were hissing for me to get back and stay down, but I reached further until I heard a noise outside. The sounds of liquids splattering on the ground and running steps made me pull my hand back and step away, but it was too late.

The door was thrown open, and there stood a man dressed in all black, with blue-black hair shining in a loose ponytail and red eyes burning into mine. His skin was pale like marble, his jaw strong and set. Within seconds, he'd opened his mouth and bared his fangs. I panicked and threw my hands out at him, and he hissed and fell back as if something had shot out of my hands. He jumped back up and grabbed my neck, throwing me out of the compartment. I landed on the ground and rolled through the dirt, cold liquid covering me. When I looked, I saw a sticky black liquid all over my arms, and noticed the bodies surrounding me.

Bodies of the Refragatio members.

I was grabbed by the hair and pulled up by someone else, and I heard the sounds of screams and splattering from the compartment. I jerked my head and saw only for a second the aftermath of people trying to fight the man that just threw me. They were sliced down or drained instantly. Whatever people were left were ushered out and shackled. I saw Anastasia and Darel being thrown out, each covered in someone else's blood. They looked at me and I saw the fear and panic in their eyes before they were ushered into some kind of moving compartment like the one we'd just been in. I felt empty and cold. Many other groups like us had made to safety, but I'd forgotten of the stories about the groups that had been recaptured by royal guards.

We happened to be one of those unlucky groups.

The vampire gripping my hair jerked my head and forced me to look at him. He was thick with muscle and his skin was slightly darker than the first vampire. His hair was short and golden, waving slightly against his temple. Red eyes stabbed into mine, making me feel weak. A cruel smile crossed his lips and he barked,

"Drake! You forgot this one!"

"I want this one," in a second, "Drake" stood next to the vampire holding me, his eyes burning with anger. A serpent-like tongue slipped out of his mouth and glided across my neck, making me shiver. He hissed,

"How dare you strike me?"

"I didn't hit you," my voice was monotone and cold, as it had always been around people I didn't know. Something hard collided with my jaw, and I felt the waves of pain pulse through my jaw as my head snapped to the side. I felt hot tears begin to fill my eyes as I slowly turned my head back to him. He was grinning, his fangs shining in the light of the afternoon sun. I looked up at the sun and back to him, and as if he read my mind, he held up his hand, where a glistening ring held a big black stone.

“The enchantments of witches are marvelous, aren’t they?”

My eyebrow twitched up in annoyance. The vampire was flaunting his power in my face. The vampire holding my hair dropped it and I stood still. He raised an eyebrow,

“Not going to run?”

“What for?” I crossed my arms, “You’ll catch me.”

“Do you care for your own life?” the blond haired vampire seemed genuinely curious, and a look of surprise crossed his face when I shrugged and shook my head. He chuckled, “Slaves like you die the fastest, you know.”

            Again I shrugged, and I didn’t notice Drake slide shackles onto my ankles since he moved so fast. I felt the metal on my skin and shuddered, and Drake began to drag me along as a carriage pulled up along the path. I was roughly tossed into the carriage, slamming into the wall and sliding to the floor. My back ached something awful, but when I tried to get onto the seat, Drake hissed,

            “Stay on the floor.”

            With a sigh, I stayed down. I typically wasn’t a fighter, I wasn’t rebellious, and I wasn’t a trouble maker, unless I was really angry. Those kinds of things were useless, and I knew from stories of other slaves whispering in the auction house that just doing a poor job at my work would get me beat, never mind acting out. I stared at the cushion of the seat for the whole ride. The sounds of tapping were coming from Drake, but I never bothered to look and satisfy my curiosity. When the carriage jostled to a stop, my hair was yanked and I was pulled to my feet. I grit my teeth at the pain in my scalp and Drake made sure he gripped me harder. I tried my hardest to keep a straight face, but couldn’t help cringing. He seemed to enjoy my pain as he smiled, opened the carriage door and threw me out onto the concrete. I felt my skin scrape and I bit my lip as the scrapes began to burn. A heavy door opened and quick footsteps made their way over to me.

            “Clean her up and make her as presentable as you can.”

            Drake’s voice was emotionless, and a pair of callused little hands began to grab my arms and lift me up. I stood up and came face to face with a fair skinned, blond haired girl. Her brown eyes stared into mine, and they were glazed with pity. Her pink cheeks and small pink lips made her look like she was younger, just like Anastasia, but she was clearly older than me. Her body was an hourglass, which was fit into a long brown skirt, white apron, black corset and white blouse. The blouse was off her shoulders, and I noticed her hair was tied back in a ragged bandana. Her voice was soft and sweet,

            “Come on, I’ll show you to the washrooms."