Slave of the Vampire Princes

Teagan Scott

“Stupid team,” Teagan grumbled.

She pulled her bushy, dirty blonde hair into a messy pony tail and rubbed her hands together. Eye on the ball, she thought to herself. The members of the St Pete T-Birds all ignored the girl and continued kicking the ball around. The bounced it off their chests, foreheads, anywhere but their arms. They didn’t hesitate to shove each other around.

Teagan’s powder blue eyes were on the ball at all times. She didn’t have the best hand eye coordination, Lacey did. But Lacey broke her leg last week and Teagan was next in line. She was a better Defender then she was a Goalie, but her dad coaxed her into it. Her dad was just happy she was socializing. She was so much like him it was ridiculous. They were both pretty antisocial, had amazing blue eyes, and were easily amazed. Both growing up in the lower class they didn’t have much, so when they hear or see certain things, it’s pretty awesome.

Erika, the best Striker they had on the team kicked the ball right towards Teagan’s head.

“Shit!”

Teagan covered her face with her arms, the ball smacked against them and bounced back onto the grass. Everyone started cheering, it was the first block she’d managed all practice. Peeking between her fingers, Teagan smiled. She slowly moved her arms down, “I did it!”

All the girls ran over and embraced her tightly, “Great job!” They all told her. Erika pushed a loose strand of her auburn hair behind her ear, “Lets hope that the next time you block it you can actually see the ball,” she joked.

Teagan’s face warmed up and she laughed nervously, “I’ll try my best.”

After that she’d managed to block two out of the five more balls that had been kicked her way. Erika drove her home, her dad was busy at work and couldn’t pick her up. She had thanked her for the ride as she got out of her blue Jeep.

When she got inside she started cooking dinner for her and her dad. When her dad came home she set their plates on the table and ate in silence.

“How was practice?” He asked her.

“Decent, I blocked three balls today.”

They continued to eat, he kissed her forehead as he said goodnight and went into his bedroom. Teagan stayed up and watched TV. She looked around their apartment and bit her lip. Since she knew her dad wouldn’t wake up anytime soon, she went into her room and pulled out her paints and canvas. Soccer was just for socializing, her passion was art. She loved to paint and hoped to get famous for her work someday. But she knew better then to dream of such silly things. For now she just needed to help pay the bills.

But if Teagan had a choice, if she was living comfortably and was able to, then she’d paint. Something about the way her thoughts were portrayed onto a canvas was so beautiful. Her art never betrayed her. But it could talk back. It was her own form of therapy.

Stray colors found their way into her hair and onto her clothes and skin. The picture on the canvas was a girl sat on a chair, her legs crossed properly and hands folded neatly on her lap. The purple silk dress she wore was neat, only slightly frayed at the ends. Her hair was black and neatly rested on her shoulders. The muscles in her right arm were exposed, the bright red was such a contrast from the character’s pale skin. The muscles from her forearm down to her fingertips were decaying and showing off the pearly white bone.

It was two in the morning when she finished. It was beautiful and she was proud. Teagan had to be awake in six hours, so she fell asleep still covered in paint.

The morning was beautiful, but Teagan hated it. She had to drink these awful protein shake the coach had given her. She was too lanky for the sport, this was supposed to help her gain muscle. But it tasted chalky and disgusting, she’d much rather have a smoothie.

Next was running. She had to run one mile every morning. Thing was, Teagan hated running. She’d stop every five minutes or so to sit down and take a break. The entire time she’d been running she felt as if someone were watching her. She ran a bit faster but the feeling of paranoia never went away. Teagan stopped running and slowly turned around, nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled, “Such an idiot,” she muttered to herself.

Turning back around she screamed loudly, a she was knocked unconscious and fell into a pair of cold arms.

Teagan woke up in a dark room laying on the floor, “Hello?”

There was another girl there, she was extremely skinny and her eyes were almost completely black, her lips were beyond dry and her skin looked like it was tinted yellow in the dim light.

“Don’t talk,” she murmured, “Don’t ask questions,” she croaked, “Just clean.”

Teagan was afraid, her lower lip trembled as she looked around, “Are you okay?”

The girl stayed quiet and leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes. Teagan fought tears as she curled into a ball, she did her best to keep herself warm. Goosebumps appeared on her skin. She stayed like that for hours until a dark figure emerged into the room. They walked by her without a word and checked the other girl’s pulse. The presence flung the girl over his shoulder and casually walked out of the room.

It wasn’t long until somebody came in giving her new clothes and cleaning supplies. They sent her to a room filled with twin mattresses and other people. She was a slave now, she was going to clean, cook, and do whatever she was told. The then fifteen year old curled into a ball and tried her best to sleep.