His Weakness

Hopeless

A beautiful black mansion on a large plot of land came into view.  Home.  I recognized it as home.

    Laughter.

    I glanced over my shoulder to see two children stumbling toward me.

    “Brother!” the smallest called out. A little blonde girl with bright green eyes, her tiny hands doing grabby motions in the air as she stumbled.  Quickly, I caught her, lifting her up in my arms as she wound her small arms around my neck, hugging me close.

    The elder of the two was a young boy but there was very little warmth in his expression, his eyes a shining silver in the afternoon glow.  “Trenton,” I called, holding my hand out to him.  He didn’t seem to hear me, standing there in an absolute daze.  “Trenton!” I tried again only for his eyes to snap to mine, taking on their normally brown hue.

    “Mom,” he breathed, just in time for a high pitched scream to echo back from the house.  Trenton made a rush for the house but I caught his arm, throwing Isabella into his arms.

    “I will go, you must keep Izzy safe,” I commanded.  When he didn’t listen, I used my alpha voice, watching him flinch.  “You will do as I say.  Go.”  Trenton ground his teeth, trying to break my hold on him but he was no match.  I was the first born and heir to the throne—his capabilities were no comparison to mine.  He bowed his head in submission before holding Izzy tight to his chest, making a break for the woods.

    Turning, I rushed toward the house just in time for them to open fire upon me.

. . . . 

Gasping, my eyes flew open and I coughed, my throat sore from dehydration.

    I couldn't even think about my weird dream because all I could focus on was my thirst.  I was so thirsty.  Clutching my throat, I glanced around, taking in the cell I’d been locked into.  It smelled of mold and dirt and as my eyes moved about, I noticed all the white walls had rust colored smears all over them.  I shivered at the sight, hoping that wasn’t what I thought it was.

    Taking a better look around, I noticed that it really was children surrounding me.  They were spread along the wall, all huddled together closely, probably in search of warmth.  There was only one not among the bunch, seated on the opposite side of the cell with a large navy hoodie on.  The hood was up, covering their features, their deep green cargo pants revealing bare feet.  Based on the person's size, I was pretty sure it was a guy.

    Something about him, seated so far from the rest of the group felt off.  Something must have happened to leave him ostracized like that.

    “She’s awake,” somebody whispered.

    My eyes flickered back to the group.  All of the children were watching me, even as they huddled amongst one another.  Squinting, I could tell that all their eyes were focused on me, expressions stoic—it was like looking at life-size dolls, the way they didn’t seem to blink.  “Um,” I said, wrapping my arms around my knees, my hands rubbing over my frozen toes, “do you know why they brought us here?”

    “We know why they brought us here,” somebody said in a deep voice.

    Squinting, I could make out a larger guy.  He was leaning back against the wall and looked almost my age with dark hair and eyes.  He had pale skin and a straight nose.  It was hard to tell with such terrible vision but I was pretty sure he was a good looking guy.  “Why?”

    He chuckled.  It was humorless.  “I can’t figure out why they brought you here,” he went on.  I noticed that he was hitting his head back against the wall, hands clenching into fists and releasing over and over again.  The motions looked painful.

    “Blood bag,” one person spat.  A little boy, I realized.

    A little girl with blonde hair tugged at the boy’s sleeve asking, “Why can’t we feed?”

    The boy shushed her harshly.

    “But I’m so hungry,” she whined.

    “Are they starving you?” I asked, hugging my legs tighter.

    All their eyes flickered to the guy across the room.  Their expressions looked almost accusatory and I found my eyes moving to the figure in the hoodie.  He was motionless and ignored the looks being thrown at him by the other children in the room.

    “Yes,” the boy finally answered, his eyes moving back to me.  “We’re being starved.”

    I frowned, glancing around the room.  No windows.  Cement walls.  The cell was lit up by flourescent light fixtures hanging above us.  We would have to get past a thick metal door with multiple, large locks and even if we somehow managed that, there were guards trained to contain us.  It was hopeless.  Completely hopeless.  And so cold.  My teeth chattered as I sat there, wallowing in misery.  My sore throat and pounding head only made things worse and I found myself thinking about my family.  Were they taken, too?  Gnawing on my cheek, I hoped that they’d been left alone.  If they were still home, what would they think when they realized I was missing?  Would they search for me?  Did it even matter, really?  There were so many children here, all scared, from families that were no doubt searching for them and yet, here we were, trapped like rats in a poorly ventilated cage.

    “How long have you been here?” I asked, hoping they’d been taken in the last few days.

    “I’ve been here the longest,” the older boy said.  “Two months.”

    Two months and he’s still here.  I felt my heart drop into my stomach with dread.  Two months.  “Why are we here?” she tried again, trying to grasp what was happening.

    The boy opened his mouth then snapped it shut, his eyes snapping to the side.  He was glaring at mysterious hooded figure who hadn’t so much as moved.  “Just make yourself comfortable,” the boy said, eyes flickering back to me.  “You’ll be here for a while.”