ISADORA
The weight on my chest was unbearable, as if my throat was being scorched from the inside, yet no amount of water could quench this burning sensation. I hadn’t been able to sleep for what felt like ages—weeks, perhaps. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t find solace in slumber.
Two weeks, maybe more. I was sure of it.
I screamed into the darkness, violently sweeping everything off my table in a fit of frustration. I didn’t know what to do—my skin burned under the sun, like my throat, as if it were set ablaze whenever the sunlight touched it.
And on top of that, even though I was losing my mind, I found myself capable of doing things I had never done before.
I shattered the door to my room.
It splintered into pieces.
“What’s happening to me?” I asked myself, my voice unrecognizable. I grabbed a ladle and scooped water from a container—drinking it, but nothing changed.
Deep down, I knew what I needed…
Blood.
“Ridiculous,” I muttered with a laugh, collapsing to my knees in front of the large crucifix where I prayed every night, hoping God would bring my sister back to me, even though I knew she was dead and couldn’t accept it.
I laughed, my voice hoarse, drooling on the floor, unsure if I was truly losing my sanity. “Fuck, have I become a sinner?”
I looked up at the crucifix, my gaze fixed on it. “Or is it because I’m just a lowly being?” Like my father always said? “Did my mother end up in hell because she taught me never to kneel to any man? Will the same happen to me?”
Silence.
No god answered me.
So, I lay down on the floor, staring into nothingness. My throat still burned, but I endured it. I knew what my body needed. I knew what would bring me relief—but where could I find it?
If only I could die.
Because no matter what, I would never… become a monster.
A monster like that man.
After he used my body, is this what I got in return? Fucking hell. All I wanted was to know if my sister was alive and where she was! Because there was nothing left for me! Nothing but myself!
There was no reason to live or wake up each day—I was useless—the only purpose I had was to become a broodmare for my future husband.
Days passed, and then maybe a month. I remained in my spot. I stayed miserable. I had run out of tears and—
Why wasn’t I dead yet? I wasn’t drinking. I wasn’t eating. Even an idiot knew that a person would die if they didn’t eat for a long time… and another thing…
I stood in the darkness, staring at my reflection in the mirror on the wall. The light from the window crack illuminated my face, and I saw myself.
So beautiful.
I had never imagined I could achieve such… an appearance.
My skin was flawless. My hair, vibrant. I looked like a corpse because of my complexion but… ah… any man would kill to have a woman like me.
Another thing I discovered was that only sunlight burned my skin, not just the light itself… sunlight… how would I do laundry now?
I heard persistent knocking at the door. Voices from outside, but it was notable how much clearer their voices were to my ears. It was the voices of Imelda… Fe… Klara…
Why were there so many of them?
I walked slowly to the door. I had no intention of opening it but—God, were they going to break down my door? So, despite my reluctance, I slowly opened the door. For the first time, I saw light again.
I wasn’t burning, but I was dazzled.
“Isadora! Why haven’t you come out!” a voice exclaimed. It was Fe. “We thought you were dead!”
I didn’t respond, staring at their faces. Only Fe seemed genuinely concerned, but Imelda…
Imelda suddenly pushed the door open wider. “Witch! Have you become a witch, which is why you no longer go to church?”
Ah… the church. Did I mention I didn’t want to hear God’s words right now? It felt like my brain was being drilled into.
I struggled to keep Imelda from fully opening the door. But Klara joined in the pushing, and they finally saw me.
They stared at me, awestruck, with envy in their eyes. But when their gaze fell to my belly, they gasped.
“You’re… pregnant…” Fe said.
“But you don’t have a husband!” Klara, her eyes wide.
I caressed my slightly swollen belly. It wasn’t noticeable yet, but it would be if they stared hard enough.
Imelda and Klara ran away. Fe followed.
Before I knew it, they were almost breaking down my door. I sat in the darkness, quietly singing to myself.
“What’s happening to my life?” I sobbed as the door burst open violently. I immediately saw the silhouettes of men and the face of Andres’ father.
“Isadora!” he shouted as he dragged me up, his grip tight on my arm, and all I could do was cry.
“No! Stop! I didn’t want this!”
“Shut up, woman!” another man said, one I didn’t recognize. “You can only be freed if you reveal your husband!”
No… No! They were going to take me to—the place where they burned women!
I struggled even more. I knew my strength wasn’t normal because four large men were holding me down. But no—I wanted to die, but not like this!
“Enough!” Andres yelled, attempting to stop those holding me, but he was punched hard in the face by his father. Andres fell to the ground, clutching his bloody nose. “No, Father. Don’t kill her! This is madness!” He stood up again, but the men still dragged me away.
“She’s a maiden, Andres! I’ll only release her if she reveals the father of her child!”
My eyes met Andres’. I knew what he was going to say—he would claim the child!
“Me.”
Everyone froze. More people were watching our commotion.
Even I stopped struggling. I looked towards the voice—and my body trembled when I saw him in the light—up close—
God. If you’re real, save me.
“What do you mean, you?” Andres asked.
He appeared out of nowhere. And I watched him. I watched him walk towards me. When he was in front of me, I looked up at him and saw how he harshly removed the hands gripping my arms.
He stared back at me. Now, I could see his face clearly because his long hair was tied back.
No one spoke.
I didn’t know if they were also awestruck by his appearance—the perfect shape of his face, like a god, but with the eyes of a devil.
I couldn’t move when he lifted me into his arms. I closed my eyes, the fear even more overwhelming than when they were about to kill me.
I heard the voices. But I couldn’t understand them. Until I felt us walking away, back to my home. When the darkness enveloped me, I opened my eyes.
He brought me to Victoria’s room.
He gently sat me on the edge of the bed, and I recoiled as if burned, quickly scooting away from him.
“Why?” he taunted.
I stared at him with wide eyes—the perfect being in front of me. “You turned me into a… a monster—like you…”
I nearly screamed when he swiftly moved over me. Just like in the forest—he was above me and—
His hand rose and gently rested on my neck. He stroked my skin there. Gentle. Sensual. Almost enticing. “Isadora, don’t you remember?” he asked, leaning towards my neck. Whispering in my ear, he said, “Don’t you remember begging me not to stop?”
“Bastard!” I cursed, trying to push him away even though I couldn’t. “You poisoned my mind!”
“I haven’t poisoned you, Ysa,” he whispered in my ear, his hand moving to my thigh. “You’re thirsty, aren’t you?” he asked again. “Drink.”
What?
I didn’t understand what he meant. And it seemed he knew that. I was surprised when our positions changed. He was leaning against the wall, sitting on Victoria’s bed while I sat on his lap.
Laughable.
He slightly tilted his head back, exposing his smooth neck to me. “Drink, my love.”
“N-No…”
“You don’t want to?”
I did.
I wanted to.
I licked my lips.
I was silent. Staring at his enticing skin.
“Drink as much as you want, Isadora.”
“Can I?” I asked weakly, and he glanced at me, a small smirk on his lips. It was a signal for me to latch onto his neck.
I struggled—I struggled to wound him because I didn’t have fangs like he did. I heard his soft laughter as I tried to bite his skin—and I bit off a piece of flesh from his neck.
His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer to him.
And I drank. Just as he said, I drank. Even as my dress shifted aside, he gently moved me on top of him—my body following, heating up, quenching the thirst in my throat, my body craving his guidance as he moved my waist to sway.
He tilted his head back, his abundant blood continuing to flow from his neck. The sight was delicious—was this one of the reasons his followers were drawn to him?
I stopped drinking because I wanted to feel this sensation. I stopped drinking—but I wasn’t done yet.
“Isadora,” he called out, breathless. Our eyes met, and the smile was still on his lips. “Do you enjoy committing sins?”
I froze, staring at his alluring skin. Slowly, my resistance weakened, and I felt myself drawn to him once more. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest, the thirst in my throat growing unbearable again.
“Yes,” I whispered, unable to deny it any longer. “Yes, I do.”
He chuckled softly, his hand still guiding my movements. “Then drink, my love. Drink until you’re satisfied.”
I lowered my head, my lips brushing against his neck. This time, I bit down harder, drawing more blood. The taste was intoxicating, the sensation overwhelming. I could feel his hands tightening on my waist, pulling me closer as I drank deeply.
Time seemed to blur as I lost myself in the act. The room around us faded away, leaving only the two of us in this intimate moment. I could feel his heartbeat against my lips, his warmth seeping into my skin. It was as if we were connected on a deeper level, bound by this dark and twisted desire.
When I finally pulled away, my lips stained with his blood, I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. He looked at me with a mixture of pride and amusement, his smile widening.
“You see, Isadora? This is who you truly are.”
I wanted to deny it, to reject the monster I had become. But deep down, I knew he was right. This was who I was now, and there was no turning back.
“I hate you,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I hate what you’ve done to me.”
He reached out, cupping my face in his hands. “But you also love it, don’t you? You love the power, the freedom. You love being a monster.”
Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled with my conflicting emotions. I hated him for what he had turned me into, but I couldn’t deny the truth in his words. I did love it. I loved the strength, the sensation of his blood coursing through my veins. I loved the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered.
“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.
He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “You’ll understand in time, my love. You’ll see that this is your true nature.”
I wanted to argue, to push him away, but I couldn’t. His touch was comforting, his presence reassuring. Despite everything, a part of me felt safe with him, as if he was the only one who truly understood me.
“Rest now,” he said softly, guiding me to lie down beside him. “You need your strength.”
I nodded, exhaustion washing over me. As I closed my eyes, I felt his arms wrap around me, holding me close. For the first time in weeks, I felt a sense of peace, a fleeting moment of solace in his embrace.
But deep down, I knew this was only the beginning. My journey was far from over, and the path ahead was filled with darkness and uncertainty. Yet, as I lay there in his arms, I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to come to terms with the monster within me. Maybe I could find a way to live with my new reality.
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