“Please, I don’t know where he is,” I begged desperately, panic causing my heart to race painfully. The creature’s grip on my hair tightened, causing me to scream and struggle, which only resulted in more pain. Tears streamed down my cheeks, the pain burning through my eyes. And yet I knew this was nothing compared to what this figure could do to me.

“Please, I’ll tell you everything I know, please,” I pleaded, beginning to feel faint. For some reason, I didn’t want to pass out. I felt if I passed out I wouldn’t wake up, so I fought the darkness. “Please, don’t kill me. I’ll tell you everything!” At this point, I wasn’t even sure what I was promising to tell because I didn’t know anything about Zachary Monet except that his sperm helped create me. But apparently, this was enough to earn me something because the figure promptly released me altogether in a not-so-kind way.

I collapsed on the ground, gasping in pain and choking back sobs. I glanced up to see one of the other creatures smiling evilly, fangs flashing threateningly. There were five altogether, including the girl and the darkest figure that held the most promise of pain behind his eyes. It was clear with one look that there was no way I was escaping from the group of demons unless by some miracle.

Suddenly, a man was in my doorway, only his face wasn’t demonic. I recognized him as my neighbor and before anyone even moved or said anything, I screamed. The image of his presence was promptly followed by the girl ripping into his throat with her fangs. I scrambled back on the ground, trying to get away any way possible, but I only backed into one of the figures’ legs.

“Corentine was right, it’s too public here,” one of the creatures stated. “We should take her somewhere else.” Some common knowledge told me that being moved to an isolated location wouldn’t be good for me, but I wasn’t finding myself any escape routes. It was pointless to think someone could help me, considering these obviously weren’t normal people.

“Fine,” The taller figure said, him being what I assumed was the leader of the group. “Grab the Monet girl, let’s go.” I was roughly grabbed by the elbow and lifted up only to be tossed towards my door like some bullied school kid. I stumbled over my feet and nearly got my footing when I was pushed again and fell down next to the body of my neighbor. I found myself choking on my own breath in panic, but before I could react I was being pulled back to my feet and shoved into the hallway.

Before I was led into the night, one of the creatures gripped my elbow in order to ensure I wouldn’t get any ideas about running away. I blinked into the darkness, avoiding looking at any innocent pedestrians who may or may not get any ideas to approach these creatures. I didn’t want to be the cause of anyone else’s death. Instead, we moved to what looked to be a black SUV and I was shoved inside roughly between two of the creatures.

I focused on looking at my hands in my lap with great determination to avoid moving as much as possible. Perhaps if I pretended I didn’t exist, they would forget and I would be left somewhere unharmed. But as I sat there, I felt the raw pain of the marks that were no doubt left on my neck and wrist, my scalp pulsing rhythmically. It only reminded me that worse was probably going to happen to me, and I felt tears escaping my eyes. I bit back any sobs, too afraid they would anger someone and incite pain to be inflicted on me sooner than later.

Instead, I tried to recall anything I knew about my father. I knew his name because of my birth certificate. There, in small writing, above the label father was the name ‘Zachary Monet’. They didn’t have any information as to his birth place or year, but they had his name. My mom had left him when I was a small child, no older than 3 years. I couldn’t remember anything that far back, not even a voice or a vague image of his face.

After that it was just us two, living a life as normal as they come. I was an average student, without a clue as to what I wanted to be when I grew up. We moved around a lot so I didn’t have a lot of friends, but I didn’t really have a problem with gaining temporary friends wherever we went. I liked crafting things, jewelry to origami, and reading. I liked vanilla ice-cream. And I had a special enjoyment of doves, which resulted in me getting a pair of doves tattooed on my ankle. Nothing unusual happened beyond my sleepwalking and my mom never took those too seriously so I didn’t either.

Anytime I tried to question my mom as to what happened with my father, why he was no longer with us, she changed the subject or told me he was crazy. I thought maybe that’s where I had gotten my crazy from at some point. But no matter what, she never specified what made him crazy. I didn’t ever want to disappoint her so I didn’t ever try to find him or anything about him. What were these… things going to do to me once they found out I knew nothing after all?

I felt a presence move closer to me from across the vehicle, but I didn’t move a muscle. “All of you Monet’s are going to pay for everything you’ve done,” the girl creature spoke, hissing, “You sit there acting pitiful and innocent, but I’ve seen firsthand what you fuckers are capable of.” I suddenly cried out at a sharp pain across my cheek. I reached up carefully, avoiding looking at the girl, and touched the cut she had left on my face, just over my cheekbone.

“You’re going to die slow and painful,” she snarled, before backing into her seat again. I lowered my hand, ignoring the blood, and prayed some miracle would save me from these things. But nothing came and I was still trapped when the car stopped sharply.

The door opened and the creature next to me stepped out. Promptly, I was thrown from the vehicle, landing solidly on the cement pavement outside. I was stunned for a moment, my hair tossed over my face like a blanket, but I was yanked up from the ground and forced to walk forward. My feet weren’t used to the ground outside, being barefooted. I felt them scrape painfully over the surface each time I stumbled, but there wasn’t any moment of relief for me.

It was only when I was pushed into a building and being led down some stairs that I began to feel my panic increasing, my heart pounding in my throat. “Where are you taking me?” I whimpered, but the question was ignored. I focused on not falling down the stairs and snapping my neck, but when I was led into what looked like a legit torture dungeon, I decided it wasn’t worth it and began to struggle to avoid going into the room.

“No!” I cried out, trying to pull out of the grip of the creatures, but all I heard was cruel laughter. “Please, don’t hurt me,” I begged, before I lost my breath when being tossed to the ground in the room. I looked around and my mind reeled, thoughts bleeding into my brain of blood and death. I pushed the back of my hand against my eyes, willing myself to be anywhere else but here. But when I looked around again, I could only see the shackles and weapons about the room.

I wasn’t alone in the room. Four of the demons had left, including the increasingly terrifying girl, but he was there. He was tall, a looming figure of pain and death. His black hair was unkempt, hanging just over his face enough to hide the true magnitude of the rage in his expression. But I could still feel those demonic eyes behind that darkness, planning excruciating things for me and for who he really wanted; my father. Though he was tall, he was also slim but not in a gangly way. As he stood there, his fists tightened so that I could see the threat of his well-built muscles coiled in that body. When he moved, he was surprisingly lithe and graceful. It was with this grace that he suddenly had my wrists in his grip and was chaining them in the shackles hanging from the ceiling.

I was speechless with terror, barely managing to keep my toes on the ground. It was suddenly harder to breathe, and the sounds of my gasps were loud to me. They were cut short when the creature grabbed my chin roughly, forcing me to look into those terrifying demonic eyes. I forgot to breathe.

“Tell me everything,” He demanded darkly, the threat of what he would do if I didn’t clear in his voice.

I felt an unstoppable tremble begin throughout my body, knowing I was doomed. “My name’s Elysia Monet,” I whimpered, “My father is Zachary Monet.” I flinched when his grip tightened at the name, crying out quietly. “I was raised by my mother, Elizabeth Brooks, since I was 3 years old. I-I was never told anything about my father, you have to believe me.”

He was growling, obviously not satisfied with this answer. “Even if you’re telling the truth, it doesn’t matter,” His deep voice dripped with venom, “I’m going to tear you to pieces and leave them for your daddy dearest to find. My only concern is figuring out the most painful way for this to happen.” He dropped his grip on my face, his words not reassuring in any way possible. He moved to the side, where some tools were waiting to be used on me. I pulled on the shackles above me painfully, whimpering.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” I begged, but he continued shuffling through the tools. When he picked up a small scalpel, I whimpered louder, fear pulsing through me. “Please! Please, I’m sorry!” He moved towards me menacingly, holding the tool out for me to see clearly. I began sobbing, struggling against the bindings desperately. When he reached out to grab my arm, I suddenly froze, closing my eyes and turning my face away.

“You Monet’s have killed so many of our kind without prejudice. You’ve killed those of us who had never killed a human for centuries. You’ve more than killed us, you’ve torture us and put us on display like we were nothing,” The creature stated darkly, trailing the knife over my skin teasingly. I couldn’t stop trembling in utter terror. The words met my ears and I couldn’t help but feel how unfair this was.

“I didn’t-,” I began to plead.

“Shh, shh,” The creature interrupted, pressing the metal into my skin only enough to begin breaking the surface. The sting silenced me, but a small whimper kept escaping my throat periodically. The figure moved closer to me, twisting a hand through my hair once again to lightly pull back and bare my throat. He moved the knife over my neck promisingly; his black eyes hungry for my death.

“So many times we try to prove we can be civilized, that we aren’t monsters, but again and again you Monet have come and destroyed what we work for, poking us until we break. I can be a monster,” He bared his fangs threateningly, moving close to my neck until I could feel his breath just inches away. “I could destroy your life, your friends and family. I could take your body as mine to drain and pick apart to pieces. Or perhaps as mine to fuck until you’re broken leftovers.” He moved away, eyeing my body darkly from my toes to my terrified face.

“For now, I’m satisfied with your death,” He finally said, moving behind me so that I couldn’t see what he was doing. I began crying again, looking up at my bound hands as though some miracle would come down and save me. When I felt his fingers brush the back of my arm, I half-screamed, even though it hadn’t been followed by pain. And then he grabbed the back of my tank top in the fist of his hand and ripped it down, the fabric tearing at the skin of my shoulder before falling tattered to the floor. I was left bare from the waist up, being that I hadn’t had a bra on initially before being kidnapped.

“Please, don’t. Please, don’t,” I whispered, pushing my face into my upper arm and willing myself to be somewhere else. For a moment, there was no sound or movement. I could almost pretend I had finally been teleported somewhere else. But then I felt his firm grip twisting into the mass of the lower half of my hair. I heard a small clatter of the knife being put down next to a nearby selection of tools, no doubt to be replaced by something more horrible to carve into my back. My hair was lifted until my head was being pressed forward, baring the entire of my back.

Instead of pain, I felt the feathers of fingertips brushing the skin on my back. They followed the lines of what I knew was my Lichtenberg figure, my practical birth tattoo, which branched throughout my back like the roots of a tree.

“What trick is this?” The creature asked, but it didn’t sound like a vicious question. He sounded… confused. When I didn’t answer, he appeared in front of me, snatching my face in his hand once more and growling. “What is that on your back?”

“I don’t know,” I blindly answered, but corrected myself quickly when his grip tightened dangerously, “It’s a birth mark, the doctors called it a… a Lichtenberg figure. My mother said I was born with it, I swear it, even though it’s usually what happens when you survive being struck-“

“-by lightning,” The creature interrupted me. After a moment of staring determinedly into my eyes with his demonic black eyes, he promptly released me. He then disappeared before my eyes as though he was capable of teleportation himself.