Shadows and Light Ch. 01

Greetings and salutations avid readers. This is my first story in this category and I hope you like it. The build up of story line takes a while but I hope it will be worth the wait. It will be about fourteen chapters all told and I am sure that many of you will be glad to hear that all but two of them have been written. This won't be one of those stories that hooks you and leaves you hanging after a few chapters. As the focus of each chapter changes the story may be submitted into other categories such as gay male, as I do have sub-plots running around. A big thank you to the editors that have helped me in the past and ones currently helping me with the story. It would not be nearly as good without them.

Chapter 1 Darkness

She felt numb where her skin touched the cold floor. Though she willed herself to move, her unresponsive body lay still. She sobbed, and cried without tears. She was so thirsty. How long had it been? The single light bulb that lit the room with its harsh light hurt her eyes as she looked at it. It would soon burn out. Sooner or later it would go dark and leave her alone to die with the withered, skeletal husk that had once been her tormenter.

She had stabbed him. She remembered the look of sheer surprise on his face when the knife plunged into his chest. Fierce joy had filled her. His tortured slave, drained of blood, kept weak, and hungry, had struck a single blow and he had fallen. Her bloody wrist had finally been able to slip the manacle. Free, no more surviving just to be tortured with his mouth, his cock, his knives, his whips, and his teeth. My god his teeth, she shuddered. The short brutal spasm sent waves of pain through her savaged body. He had bitten her everywhere, up and down her neck, the insides of her wrists, her inner thighs. After a while, the veins would collapse and he couldn't feed anymore and he would find another, punishing, biting and tearing at her. Were there anymore left? She couldn't remember. She was numb, cold. Her left hand throbbed; he had bitten off the tip of her pinky finger down to the first knuckle. She hadn't realized that she could hurt so badly still. He had drunk from her while she screamed in agony.

The door was open. If she could just find the strength she could leave. She could drink. She could eat. She could live. She was so cold.

She heard noise from up above her, footsteps crossing the floor over her head. The light overhead flickered, as it always did before he came. Oh God, he was back, he was back, and the door was open. He would hurt her, over and over. Oh God. She whimpered. He would take her bit-by-bit and she would never die. He would torture her until her mind snapped, and she didn't care anymore. The moaning screams from the room next to her startled another painful spasm through her. It had been so quiet for a while, no more screams from the not quite human, not quite vampire being in the room next door. She had hoped that it was dead. Finally dead. It was waiting for him to tire of her and feed her to it, like the slender Asian girl she had replaced. Her first memory of this place was burned into her mind. The girl had screamed and screamed in an unfamiliar language, begging on her knees. It didn't do any good. The man pushed the sobbing, screaming girl at the fanged thing that was chained to the wall. It ripped her apart. And then, when the girl's screaming had stopped, the thing had started to eat her.

The green-eyed man had just laughed, fondling himself. He had told her she would be next, when he was through with her. He was laughing, raping her with his body, savaging her, listening to her screams as he thrust his cock and his teeth into her.

More footsteps from above her, and then the sound of the trap door opening and falling echoed through the small space. Maybe the monster was loose, maybe it would come and kill her and the pain would stop, maybe... She wanted to live, didn't she? Maybe she was already dead. Did you still hurt when you were dead? She just didn't want to hurt anymore.

She closed her eyes against the painful light bulb that would burn out and leave her all alone.

"Cullen?" A man's voice called.

The screaming started again. The chains that held it rattled as it lunged and clawed. It was clawing to get to her, so it could feast on the little blood that was left inside her battered body. Her heart would stop. It was already so slow, measured, giving her something to keep her company while she died. She almost wished it would come for her. She was so tired; she ached, so thirsty, so cold.

The screaming reached a fevered pitch and with a loud bang that sent another agonizing twitch through her body, it fell silent at last. It was so quiet, the echoes long since died away into the darkness. Footsteps sounded again, closer this time louder but with no echoes on the cement floor.

She tried to move, to crawl away somewhere safe in the dark. She had to hide, to get away. Another whimper, softer than the last escaped from her.

"My god," came the voice again.

A hand touched her and she moaned. Just kill me she thought, let it end, I don't want to hurt anymore, please, please, please, you can do that can't you? Just don't hurt me anymore, please just kill me. She could feel herself being rolled over onto her back. She cried out, it hurt so badly. The voice came again only this time she couldn't understand the words, they just blurred with the pain. She sobbed, her mouth and throat parched dry.

Strong arms lifted her. She could smell cologne and the smell that was distinctly his, earthy, a hint of pine and tobacco as he carried her. He felt almost hot against her cold skin. She could feel the rumble of his voice inside his chest against her body even as her mind struggled to understand.

There was water, cool and clean against her lips, and she drank, moaning when it was withdrawn from her. The voice spoke and she quieted. Something sweet was given and she drank all that was offered.

She could hear water sounds. A waterfall? Was she outside? It would be nice to see the sun again; it had been dark for so long. She had forgotten what it was like to be warm, lying in the sun, drowsing in the heat. Maybe the sun had been shut off like the light bulb in the cold room when he left her. She would be left in the dark to suffer. He would come for her, grabbing her by her hair and pulling into his playroom. Pinning her to the table, fucking and biting and whipping as she screamed and screamed.

Someone was screaming, far away from her. The rumbling baritone called to her, she could hear him, warm and calm, safe now, she was safe now. The screaming stopped and was replaced with anguished sobs. They pulled at her heart. She longed to hold that person, to rock them, soothe them back into quiet sleep. Sleep with no dreams.

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She was warm at last. There was softness all around her aching body, below and above. Soft and warm. There was a light on her face; she could see it through her eyelids, hot and golden. She stretched involuntarily and the pain came but not as strong as it had been.

She opened her eyes.

"Hello sweetheart, back with me for a bit?" Came the rich voice from her dreams.

Deep brown eyes met hers and he smiled.

"Here love, have a drink."

She slowly propped herself up on an elbow. Apple juice, sweet and smooth poured down her throat. Never had anything tasted so good. She drank the entire glass, her hand shaking.

He was big. In another time and place she might have noticed how handsome he was. Her eyes only saw his strength, his potential to hurt her. He took the glass and set it on the bedside table.

"Can you tell me your name?" he asked. "Mine is Ian. Ian Sterling."

She just looked at him. Her name. Did she have a name? For one horrible moment, her mind remained blank. What was her name? "My name?" it came out as a hoarse whisper.

"Isabelle," she said slowly, "My name is Isabelle."