Bloodlines

Meredith Green is an eighteen year old girl who is, to be honest, pretty lazy. She has no idea which direction her life is going to take, and, quite frankly, doesn't care. She gets the opportunity she needs to turn her life around, however, in the form of a completely unexpected call from a Specialist University, offering her a place among their ranks. With no other options, Meredith is forced to attend, along with her best friend Charlie Samuels, who also received a mysterious phone call. From the moment they enter the huge manor house, Meredith starts developing odd symptoms and strange suspicions about the teachers. Also, the two brothers who own the manor, Jeremiah and Noah, seem to act weird around the pupils in particular. She is determined to find out the truth, despite the mystery illness she seems to be coming down with. However, is the truth safe? Can Meredith handle the shocking facts about everyone around her that she loves and trusts?

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9. Bad Dreams

This was a dream. It had to be. But could you even tell whether you were dreaming or not? I shook my head to clear the crowd of thoughts swiftly growing in my mind, not wanting to panic. Looking slowly around, I realised that the space I was standing in was completely dark with no light source whatsoever, leaving me squinting manically into the shadows. I reached out cautiously, testing the area around me. Nothing came into contact with my probing fingers, although the air surrounding me was thick and heavy, like the smog that gathered near boat harbors when it was a stormy day. Exhaling heavily through my nose, I started to go from being curious and slightly scared to bored and impatient. If this was it, I might as well wake up. This was probably the most boring dream I had ever had, if you could even call it a dream. Suddenly, I heard footsteps. They were actually most likely quite far away, but as there was no other sound I could hear, they rang out clear and sharp into the pitch blackness. I could only stand, my whole body tense and alert, as they crept slowly nearer to me, growing louder and louder. I realised my breathing was becoming shallow and sweat was pouring freely down my neck, soaking the hood of my scarlet robe.

 

Wait a second. Why the hell was I wearing a thick, woolen robe coloured bright crimson, which appeared to be the only thing I could actually see amongst this fog? I moved my limbs testingly, looking at all angles. It seemed to be nothing more, except with a weighty rope belt fastened around my waist and delicate silver bells hooked onto red chains around my ankles. As I moved them, an extremely high noise which sounded more like a drone than the jingle of bells emitted from the dainty objects. Something roused in my mind as I looked skeptically at my clothing, but I couldn't, for the life of me, think what it was. It was definitely about the colour red, but there my thought ended, slightly hazily. I snapped my neck back up as a figure appeared in my peripheral vision. I tilted my head slowly, carefully, upwards, as the shadowed fog shifted around to reveal the figure of a man, draped in robes identical from mine, except from the fact that they were as black as the air around him. He had fine, protruding cheekbones and smooth, unblemished skin, the colour of alabaster. He had tasseled yet handsomely glossy hair, shimmering in some unknown light. It was dark, like the trunk of an oak tree, with sleek, soft brown, natural highlights. He was broad and muscular, with a perfectly shaped torso showing through his robes. I raised my eyebrows at this man, who I was sure I'd seen before. He was irresistibly handsome, his whole body alluring. I was tempted to call out to him, to wolf-whistle, to do something which showed my attraction to him. Then I met his eyes.

 

The mystery guy's eyes were bright, blinding red, like red-hot coals or... or fresh, shimmering blood, just after it's left the wound and is lying in a sickly sweet pool next to the unlucky victim. They burned with some kind of demonic fire, convincing me in an instant that the eyes really were windows to the soul. They also had some kind of insatiable hunger (or was it thirst?) plagiarizing him, tormenting him, compelling him to cure it by any means possible. He seemed so desperate, so weak, that he only just noticed me. First, shock spread across his face, as if he wasn't expecting me, then a smooth, practiced calm, like the eye of a raging storm. He crept closer to me, giving a slight hint of a hunter stalking his prey. His limbs moved like velvet, always in perfect balance and harmony. I gave a shallow gasp as he came even closer, his honeysuckle and sugar scented breath warming my flesh. He smiled seductively, reaching out a hand to caress my cheek. I was frozen to the spot, numb with terror. The only thing I could do was stare blankly at his face; so smooth, so seducing, so sexily charming... I had only just realised that he'd put another hand on me, this time resting it lightly on my shoulder. My breathing quickened and I tried to pull away, as if his touch had broken me from my trance. "Hush now, my dear. Stay frozen." he told me persuasively, his voice like silk. All I could do was force my head to turn away, though my eyes stayed frozen to his face. His hands slipped lower, although his expression never changed. Soon they were cupped around my waist, rocking them slightly side to side. I felt my hands move forward as if they had a life of their own, hovering slightly above his own shoulders before landing there, gripping the woolen cloth underneath tightly. He drew my body closer, all the while keeping his elusive smile plastered across his face. I realised we were dancing. 

 

We slowly yet surely started moving around the floor, black mist evaporating around our heels as we drew close. At first, he guided, with my feet following gladly. Then they started catching on, stepping out boldly from his gentle guidance. We waltzed gracefully, silently, around the space, which seemed to be never-ending. I kept my eyes fixed on him, though they no longer were frozen. It seemed so romantic, even though I had never met him. Suddenly, he spoke again, gleaming teeth showing through his dark red lips. "How are you enjoying yourself, Alzenia? Am I pleasing you?" he laughed at me, so carefree. It was as if the man with burning, tortured eyes had never even existed. It also seemed perfectly normal that my name should be Alzenia, and not Meredith. I was caught up in the dream now. I flirted with him as we moved, fluttering my eyelashes and turning away slightly, only glancing at him fleetingly. Suddenly, as I turned to look at him, I felt his mouth close to my cheek, his breathing almost nervous. I slowly, deliberately, turned my head so I was looking up into his eyes, which had faded from a bright red to a fiery amber-orange. Closing my eyes, I leaned in, feeling the moist texture of his lips. Before we kissed, I heard him utter one word. "Always." 

 

I pulled away from him, a radiant smile lighting up my face. I was on cloud nine, floating in joy and basking in sunshine. However, when I turned to him, he seemed upset, disgusted even. Concern passed across my face as I moved next to him, brushing his arm with my finger tips. "What is wrong, my dearest? For you can tell me, can you not?" I spoke in a high, piercing voice, using old fashioned words which I never even realised I knew. He snapped his head up suddenly, eyes again a demonic red. When he next spoke, it was in a double toned voice, much lower and more important sounding. 

"Alzenia. I cannot love you, no matter how much it hurts. I will just destroy you, like the countless others before, even if I fight it." My mouth hung open, words on the tip of my tongue yet never coming out of my mouth. Before I could stop him, his mouth was plastered round mine, kissing it with some kind of furious hunger. His arms were latched around my body, pressing me extremely tightly to him. I could feel the scratchy material of his midnight black robe on the side of my cheek and his warm, large hands clutched to my waist as if it was the last time we would see each other. I pushed slightly at his chest, forcing him back an inch. I then regained some small amount of control and hitched his hands, which was been creeping lower, back up onto my hips. Kissing him gently and serenly, I opened my eyes for a spilt second. I realised with an uneasy pang that his eyes weren't filled with love and passion, but were cold and isolated with a cruel glimmer. Before I could wrestle him off, his mouth started moving down, towards my neck. Finally being able to breathe, I gasped thankfully, pushing firmly on his shoulders. However, he seemed not to care, carrying on as if I wasn't even there. Then he started to bite me. I saw, with a leaden feeling of impending doom, his rosy red lips part to reveal glittering, perfectly shaped teeth. Then his abnormaly long canines, shining in another invisible light, entered my skin, puncturing through the flesh of my neck as if it were tissue paper. His eyes, filled with longing and lust, burned and seethed with demonic pleasure as he slowly sucked the life essence from my body. Starting to panic, I gave a gurgling, muffled scream, only to find fresh, metallic-tasting blood dribbling from my mouth. Slamming it closed, I pushed desperately at his huge body, trying to force him off. It only resulted in him tightening him iron-hard grip. The last few foggy thoughts to pass along my consioucness were, quite strangely, to do with the colour red. I remembered all too late the rule Stockridge had been quite strict on. Never wear the colour red. The same colour my robe was. Then, with a feeling like ice-cold bricks had touched my skin, I realised who the man, who I had quite passionately kissed, was. He was Noah Alberico.

 

 

 

 

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