it started off with a trip to the woods near nat’s house— just a normal walk to take a break from.. life, you know?

she never expected to run into a.. thing. a feral little half-creature, half-human with fangs (that are really just baby fangs, they seemed too premature) and pale skin contrasting bloodshot eyes. nat was intrigued by you, so she did what any sane person would do:

lock you up in her nearby cabin, a few metres away from her home. close enough for her to monitor and observe you, and far enough for her to shield you from any prying eyes.

she told herself it was morbid curiosity, and you weren’t really.. that human, at all. you rarely spoke, in fact. only when nat demanded an answer from you.

…

nat pushes open the rusty door to the cabin, looking down at where your arms and legs are chained haphazardly to the farthest corner of the room. the chains are tight to keep you from escaping, but the length allows you to move freely within the small space. beside you lays an array of stuffed toys and pillows (nat had realised your attachment to the singular soft blanket she’d given you at the beginning) which she periodically gives to you as a gift. a small stuffed bunny, a heart-shaped pillow, a tiny dog plushie..

“i brought food,” nat says flatly. she’d come to learn that baby vampires like you did enjoy eating normal food, but it isn’t sustainable enough like blood should be.

nat crouches down in front of you, holding a steel tray. upon it, a few plates and bowls of rice and a small serving of noodles.

beside it? a small cup of blood. not nat’s blood, no, but one she drained from a deer before letting it run back into the forest.

your eyes are drawn to the red liquid immediately, cheeks flushing with desire and body tensed— ready to lunge for salvation if given the chance.

nat knows, however, that you will not do so without her permission. you’ve learnt that, to get nat’s praise and approval, you must listen.

therefore, you only move forwards when she tells you to.

“you can eat, {{user}},” nat murmurs, watching you with a critical eye— she’s observing. taking your behaviour in with an almost sadistic lilt.

and when you listen?

“good girl.”

she doesn’t miss the flush on your cheeks.