His Fangs on My Neck

The streets are buzzing with people, all were heading to the arena to witness the opening of the grandest festival of the year, the Blood Moon Festival, an annual festival meant to commemorate the victory of vampires from successfully winning the war and driving the werewolves away. "Hurry!" I bit my lower lip to hold my cry after feeling the leathery whip hit my back, adding another cut to the countless ones I already have. I tried my best not to show any emotions. I don't want my master to see me hurting because I know that would just make her happy. I want her to get frustrated over the fact that she couldn't get what she always wanted—my cries. I wanted to look at her face to see her displeased look. Among all of her slaves, she told me I was the only one who wouldn't cry and beg her to stop whenever she whips me, so she made sure to remember me and give me as a tribute for today's opening ceremony. If only I wasn't aware of the fate that awaits a tribute for today's opening ceremony, I would have celebrated it because finally, I will be free from her; I can finally run away from her tortures. But I would rather endure every painful whip she gives than be a tribute. It's the thing that slaves fear the most—it's our death sentence. Tributes are slaves meant to be killed in the most gruesome way. We will not be decapitated, hanged, or even stabbed to death—we will be thrown in an open arena to be eaten by rogues, werewolves who are under a vampire's command. "You really wouldn't cry, huh?" I heard my master say before she passed through me. And just a few moments later, I found myself getting dragged across the streets after the carriage that pulls me started moving faster. I tried my best to adjust to its speed, but I already earned bruises and wounds on my legs and knees right before I could even do it. I bit my lip as hard as I could just to stop my groans. My wounds feel like they're burning. The pain is seeping deep into the fibers of my flesh. I can feel the people looking at me, not with worry though but pure entertainment. Well, a human like me will never gain their sympathy for in their eyes, we are nothing but livestock. What more to a slave like me, right? Even a commoner wouldn't dare to drink blood from me. Slaves are considered to have the lowest quality of blood. Only the poorest of the poor would dare to drink blood from us. After a few minutes of agony, the carriage finally stopped. I let out a breath of relief. My shoulders are aggressively rising up and down as I try to return my breathing to normal. I can feel the beads of sweat on my forehead slowly rolling down my face. "I can't wait to see you cry and beg later," my master said as soon as she got out of the carriage. Then a moment later, two royal guards came to pick me up. "Take her away." The guards relieved me from the chains and dragged me somewhere. But I don't really care where they would take me. After a couple of minutes, we reached our destination—a cell. The guards didn't hesitate to throw me inside when they could have just let me walk. I winced in pain when my back hit the rough surface of the concrete ground. The cloth I wore was too thin to even protect my scarred skin from any bruises. The impact even caused my healing wounds to bleed again. I quickly got up and bit my lower lip to stop myself from groaning in pain. I can feel my back getting wet by all the blood dripping from the freshly cut wounds that I just got when my master whipped me just a minute before giving me to the royal guards. My eyes darted on the royal guard that threw me inside the cell, but I quickly lowered my gaze when I was welcomed by his intense red orbs and pair of white, sharp fangs. I can still feel his intense gaze, so I lowered my head even more. My body started to tremble when I felt his bloodlust. He's not looking away! I can totally sense his urge to beat me to a pulp. "You're probably dead by now if only you're not one of the offerings." His voice was firm and full of anger. "Rejoice you, lowly slave," he added before I felt a kick on my stomach. I gasped in pain. The metallic boots of the royal guard even made the impact stronger. It feels like my insides were crushed. The air entering my body suddenly went thin as my strength gradually leave my body. I wanted to scream in pain, but my body seems to have gotten used to the sensation already. I wanted to cry but it won't even help me, so I just hugged my body and waited for the pain to go away. "Filthy creature!" he murmured under his breath before I heard the sound of him spitting, followed by his viscous saliva hitting my bruised arm. I jolted when he punched the wall just an inch away from my head. It made me lower my head even more that I almost appear to be folding myself in half. I find it funny because I didn't know I still have this fear inside me after facing countless whippings from my master. I thought I grew up getting numb to this sensation already. I somehow felt at ease when I heard him walking away from me. The sound of the cell closing and his steps fading was a sign for me to raise my head. I took a deep breath and even doing it hurt like hell. I think I just had a rib fractured by that kick. I wanted to lean against the wall to rest, but I'm afraid the wounds that only stopped bleeding a while ago would bleed again. I flashed a weak smile, slowly breathing some air in to somehow recover some strength. My vision is getting blurry. I haven't eaten anything for the past three days since my master thought it would just be a waste since I will end up dying anyway. I will end up getting ripped into pieces by those salivating beasts as part of the opening ceremony of the annual Blood Moon Festival. "Hey, are you okay?" I slowly looked at the cell beside me and saw a frail-looking thin girl with dirty, ragged clothes. She's almost covered in grease. She looks far worse than me. I couldn't help but smile in disbelief after hearing her question. "Does that even matter right now? Fine or not, that wouldn't change anything. We'll die either way," I bluntly told her, closing my eyes to let them rest for a bit. "Of course it does. You were hurt by that royal guard," she replied and I wasn't able to stop myself from chuckling at her stùpidity. "I will rather be beaten and whipped by those ruthless vampires than be given as a tribute for this ceremony," I told her, opening my eyes. I caught how she lowered her gaze and started hugging her knees. "You're probably right. But as long as we're still alive, we shouldn't lose hope. There's still a slim chance for us to survive later," she told me and smiled, but I know that smile was fòrced. She's probably starting to get delusional trying to comfort herself. "Too late for you to say that. I lost every drop of hope I had in me the moment I was born as a slave." I winced when my wounds hurt after I tried to fix my posture. "There's no hope for people like us. We're already dead the moment our freedom was taken from us." She didn't reply, maybe she started to hate me for breaking her bubbles. But I have no regrets. She should realize her fate before she gets thrown to be eaten by rogues. She should embrace her death before it even comes. In that way, she wouldn't succumb to despair and cry for salvation, because it will never come for people like us. In the eyes of those fanged nobles and royalties, even the commoners, we are nothing but livestock, the lowest of the lows. Humans exist to be their food alone. But some get lucky to be treated a little better than slaves. They get to sleep in a comfortable bed, eat three meals a day, dress comfortably, and somehow live a normal life. But still, they have to offer their blood in exchange for a little better life than usual slaves. I looked up when I heard metallic footsteps approaching us. There, I saw royal guards with chains on their hands. They were grinning devilishly while looking at us. "The time has come, humans. Entertain us with your screams," one of them said before the others started opening the cells. "Make sure to cry and beg. Show us fear and despair." I bit my lower lip when the royal guard roughly put the cuffs on my hands. He didn't even bother avoiding the wounds I have. "Let's go," he said, aggressively dragging me out of my cell. And along with the other tributes, they dragged us out until we were welcomed by a blinding light. "The tributes have arrived. Release the rogues!"