Chapter 2 Saturday Night Sacrifice

Eleanor's POV

I was born evil. At least, that's what my parents always told me.

From my earliest memories, I heard those words whispered when they thought I couldn't hear.

"She's not right," my mother would say, pulling Aurora and Olive close while keeping me at a distance. "There's something wrong with her."

Ten years. That's how long I'd been serving vampires. Ten years of offering my neck and my wrists to creatures who saw me as nothing more than food. I'd become an expert at it—knowing how to make them comfortable, how to minimize the pain to myself, how to please them so they wouldn't hurt me too badly.

I reached for the royal blue wrap dress Mr. Benedict had given me last year. The short sleeves and wide neckline would make it easy for him to "feed" tonight. I'd learned long ago to choose clothes that provided easy access. It was easier that way. Less painful.

In two months, I would turn eighteen. Aurora and Olive would too, though they'd been told their birthday was October 30th, while mine was Halloween—another way my parents separated me from my siblings. They would head off to college, and my parents had been planning a year-long trip to celebrate their "empty nest." They never mentioned what would happen to me.

I hadn't been to a grocery store since I was seven. I had no money. If my parents left me behind, how would I even survive?

I forced the thoughts away. Better to focus on today, on surviving right now. Tomorrow would have to take care of itself.

The house felt quiet. Aurora had left for her date with Max hours ago. I'd spent the morning doing laundry and tending to the garden—my one small joy. At four o'clock, Aurora texted that she was heading home. By six-thirty, we were all gathered around the dinner table, Aurora chatting happily about her date while I pushed food around my plate.

After dinner came the Saturday night ritual. Aurora and Olive would go to the movies—a tradition they'd maintained for years. And I would stay behind.

"Eleanor can't come with us this time?" Aurora asked, her brow furrowed with concern. Every week she asked, though she knew the answer.

"No, Eleanor stays here," Mom said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

"Eleanor." Dad's voice carried a warning tone that made me flinch.

I felt my heart breaking, as it did every Saturday night. I wanted nothing more than to go with them, to sit in a dark theater and pretend for two hours that I was normal. But I couldn't bear the thought of them staying home because of me.

"Aurora, you and Olive have been looking forward to this movie," I said, forcing a smile. "Please, go have fun." I squeezed her hand. "We'll do something together next weekend, I promise."

Aurora hesitated, then nodded. I watched them leave, feeling a piece of myself die as the door closed behind them. Some Saturday nights, I prayed that the vampire client would just kill me and end it all.

Mom waited until they were gone before turning to me, her eyes cold. "You better figure out how to get them out of the house next weekend," she warned.

"I'll be sick on Friday night," I promised. "Sick through Monday. I'll work extra hard this week."

"Good," she nodded. "Now go get ready. Your regular, Donovan Benedict, is coming tonight."

I stood in the center of the living room as instructed, wearing the blue dress, my hair brushed neatly over my shoulders. When the doorbell rang, Dad let Mr. Benedict in.

"You look lovely tonight, Eleanor," he said. "That blue dress suits your complexion."

I remained still, my heart racing despite years of practice. No matter how many times I did this, I couldn't stop the fear.

"Sit by the sofa," he instructed, and I obeyed, perching on the edge of the cushion. "I want to try somewhere different tonight," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'd like to try your thigh tonight. The blood is sweeter there."

My stomach twisted with revulsion, bile rising in my throat. Despite the horror churning inside me, I sat down obediently, my movements mechanical. I knew resistance was pointless. I let my mind drift away from my body, imagining myself as nothing more than a corpse—unfeeling, empty.

He leaned closer, his cold breath against my ear. "Only two more months until you're eighteen, Eleanor. I've put in the highest bid for you. Your parents have practically guaranteed you'll be mine. Forever."

His words hit me like physical blows. My breath caught in my throat as shock paralyzed me. My parents were going to sell me? I'd always clung to the small hope that turning eighteen would mean freedom—that I could finally escape this nightmare of being fed upon. Instead, they planned to sentence me to an eternity with this monster.

I sat perfectly still, numb, as he lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my wrist before setting it aside. Then he pushed the hem of my dress up, exposing my thigh. I stared at a spot on the wall, bracing myself for the pain as he leaned down, fangs extending.

Just as his teeth were about to pierce my skin, the living room door was kicked open.

An imposing figure stood in the doorway. He looked to be in his twenties, standing about six feet tall with striking silver-white hair. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, forming a perfect inverted triangle. But most shocking were his eyes—deep red like fresh blood, glittering dangerously in the dim light. His pale skin, though not as pale as a typical vampire's, still marked him as one of them.

Mr. Benedict looked up, his face instantly draining of color. He fell back from the sofa in terror.

"M-Mr. Astoria!" he stammered, scrambling to his feet and bowing his head in submission, his entire demeanor changing from predator to prey.

The stranger—Mr. Astoria—looked at Benedict coldly, his red eyes flashing with danger. "Donovan, I've finally found you, my childe."

With shocking speed, he moved to Benedict, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground. "Your existence disgusts me."

I watched in horror as this powerful stranger squeezed once, rendering Benedict unconscious before dropping him to the floor like a heap of rags.