I fell in and out of sleep. I was exhausted and my body yearned for rest, but my mind was alight with fear and dread. I had to force myself to think of calming things, happy things, just to coax myself into the needed slumber. I thought of hot fires and my mother's beef stew on a cold winter's night. Then I would fall asleep for what felt like a wink before I was jerked awake.

I needed my rest. I needed to be able to think and move my body soundly. But I could not relax enough. Did vampires only feed at night? Should I be worried about someone coming in to my cell? What could a vampire possibly need from me and when would they come to collect?

Every noise was a reason to gasp awake. Every cough from down the hall, every titter of a mouse, even my own soft snores were enough to set off my own alarms.

And when I stayed awake for too long, exhaustion was the least of my worries because my mind was an enemy within. Why had I been taken hostage? Wouldn't it have been easier to kill me in the middle of the field like all the other girls who earned a tombstone? What could I have to offer that couldn't be taken from me there?

I would jam my eyes shut and will sleep to come or at least a quiet mind. But the silence was filled with rumors that I had heard through the village. There were things that were never proven and when I pushed Sampson for information he scoffed and told me to stop listening to gossip. And it could have been just that: harmless gossip. But all I could think of now was what those girls said. That some of us were taken. That they could taste our properties in our blood, that they knew which of us would be good breeding stock. It was said that female vampires were few and far between. When it came time for reproduction, certain...outsourcing was required.

I reasoned that all the bodies had been found. I told myself that people liked to spin stories and all those who had passed at the hands of the vampires had been found. At least for my village.

If I had been at home, I would have pulled my pillow over my face and screamed into it. I would have snuck away into the lopsided barn and sat with the content sounds of my horses until the world didn't feel so heavy. Thinking about it now only made me wonder if I would ever see my home again.

I forced myself in and out of sleep until someone arrived at the cell door, peering in at me through the bars. A guard, judging by the uniform that matched all the others. Eyes flickered to my curled-up form then away, studying something pinned to the wall just outside the door.

"Is there something you need?" I snapped, the coldness of my voice overpowering the quiver.

Another glance at me, then another glance at the wall. "Are you sure you're supposed to be in here?" he asked.

No, I wasn't sure of anything right now. I wanted to be back home, wake up and realize that this was all some tragic nightmare. Maybe it was a lesson to teach me that I should have settled for Sampson and shut my mouth when I had a chance.

"You are the one outside of the cell, you tell me," I snarled.

"The paper says that there was a reward for you," he mused. "But it doesn't state whether or not..."

"Then let me out. Do I look like someone who belongs down here?" I demanded. But I knew the answer to that. I was nothing more than a peasant back home. And here with my filthy dress, my disgusting hair and bags under my eyes, I probably looked like even less. "Wouldn't you be terrified if you knew you wrongly imprisoned someone?" I pushed. "I'm sure the consequences must be horrendous."

The guard sighed, his shoulders slumping. "You're right. The last thing I would want is the king beheading me if I let a prisoner go wrongfully. Surely, the consequences of that must be higher than if I keep you."

"No," I whispered. Desperation was clawing at my throat, almost like I couldn't breathe. "Please, you need to let me go. I don't belong here. There must be some mistake."

The guard only shrugged."I'm not the person to make those kinds of judgement calls. I'm sorry. But here, I brought you some food."

I wanted to scream after he slid the tray into my cell. I wanted to beg him to come back so I could plead my case even if it was likely to fall onto deaf ears. But my pride would not let me.

I just ate the food, swallowing it down with a tight throat. But, even in my distress, I could acknowledge that the food was good. Nothing like what Sampson's family had fed me, but better than what my sister was probably eating at home right now.

If the worry was letting her eat. She was probably in the woods somewhere beside my father, screaming out my name. Sampson might have conjured up a search party or, more likely, announced that I was dead already, after all, who would ever go against the vampires?

But I was dead already, wasn't I? Still breathing, still eating, but dead in the water. I was in the heart of the enemy lands. Taken without reason. And I was their prey. Trapped in a tiny cell with high walls and no way out.

I tried to reason that I had my dagger, that I could literally cut my way out of this. But I had not been raised to be a fighter. I knew how to sew a dress that was on the verge of being unfixable, knew how to stretch a meal with broth and grains, and I knew what to look for in a young horse that would make it a loyal companion. Fighting was not something many needed to do in civilization anymore.

And even if I could get out of this cell, there were thousands of other hurdles I had to manage. I couldn't see much out of my cell, but I wasn't foolish enough to think that this place wasn't crawling with guards. And if I managed to escape them, then I would have to manage whatever I came into contact with outside. I would probably need a horse too, if I had any prayer of getting home. And I would hopefully come across someone with decent direction and knowledge of the surrounding villages because I was lost, lost, lost.

I shut the thoughts down. I would get out of here. I would. I had to. And to do that, I had to eat and rest as much as I could.

I pressed the last remaining biscuit to my lips and chewed it, wishing I could enjoy the buttery flavor. When it was gone, I laid my head down on the straw and kept my eyes closed until my body fell into another bout restless slumber.

I awoke to the sounds of metal groaning.

There was no room for negative thoughts then. In fact, it felt like there was barely any room for a single thought at all. My body moved without instruction, retrieving the dagger and tossing away protective covering. With the cell door open, I had perfect access to the man who had unlocked it. Guard, executioner, I did not care. All I knew was that they were very, very unlucky to be the ones in my way.

I held the blade in a clenched fist and lunged.

I threw my body at the man, teeth bared. And the blade went right to his throat. I wanted to push. I wanted to be free, more than I wanted anything, more than I cared about this man or any vampire, living for another second. I should have been able to kill him. I should have wanted to kill him.

My heart thundered in my ears as I stared at the stolen knife, just centimeters away from dark stubble. I attempted to force my hand forward, but my arms began trembling, unwilling to budge.

It was then that I finally allowed myself to peer up at the man who released me, the one I should have already killed.

Eyes the colour of coffee stared down at me, framed by impossibly dark and long lashes. Lips were pulled back in something of a smirk as the man took me in.

"Hello, my little dove."

~~~Question of the Day~~~

What is your favorite childhood memory?