SC: Beyonce - If I Were a Boy
nine.
Eryn.
London 1523.
I'd written off that I would die here. They would discard my body with the ones that were getting sick, not caring about who I was before. I imagined the people of which I would tell them goodbye. I thought of my brothers and how they were against me leaving home with this man they barely knew. They didn't care if he was made of money, they wanted their sister with them. If only I had listened.
I thought of my father and quickly chastised myself for thinking of him. I already know what he would say to me now.
I refused to close my eyes, keeping my gaze at the front door of what was my home. It was dark, all the candles put out. Geoffrey forgot about me, probably planning the next woman to wed. I was okay with that. At least I would die knowing that I wasn't married to him anymore. I got to be myself in my very last moments.
A figure shadowed the moon overhead. I was unable to tell who the silhouette was, but long braided hair fell out of their hood. "Do you want to live?" they asked, crouching down. They looked at my body and a low hiss came from them. I should've been frightened, to see a hooded figure over me in the dark of night, but instead, I welcomed it. I didn't want to die alone.
I took in her face, mahogany skin with multiple scars across them. There was a particularly long one on the bridge of her nose that curled around her eye. Poor girl, there were years of torment branded on her face.
"Tell me, do you want to live?" she repeated herself, a grit to her voice that was unheard of from around here.
Did I want to live? How would I live? It was impossible to go back to the life I had before. I wanted to tell her that.
I thought I was nodding, but I'm sure there was no movement.
"Take my hand child," Warmth enveloped me, and I breathed harder, feeling more tears well up in my eyes.
"I can help you live, but you will have to listen to everything I say. It will be hard, but you can live."
I want to live.
I imagined holding her hand tighter, hoping that she would do whatever to keep me alive. She tilted my head to the side. It wasn't until I saw long teeth and heard a small hiss coming from her throat that made me realize exactly what I was getting myself into.
"It took me nine weeks to turn, Sybil giving me her blood every day so I could heal. It was a laborious process from what I remember. It was so dark in that room; I only knew when she came and left. I was paralyzed and stuck in some sort of limbo. The in-between of vampirism and humanity. When my vision finally strengthened, I was able to see where I was," I replied, somewhat annoyed that Marina came back. I expected her to stay with her friends and Ally, but she came back, not wanting me to go through what I was going through alone.
I tied myself to a pole, not wanting to take any chances,
If Sybil saw me know, she would laugh. I wouldn't go to these lengths to simply have a conversation with someone.
Marina kept me talking, the dull searing pain around my wrists it was the only thing that kept my mind off my fangs in her throat. Her scent was overwhelming me and I breathed through my mouth so I didn't smell it as much.
"What happened after?" she asked, a bit away from me. She was wary and I was glad that she finally understood that even if I wasn't like the vampires that her kind had come into contact, I could easily be the same as them. I desperately didn't want to hurt her.
"Sybil kept me in some sort of child bedroom, with a large pot of water on a table nearby. I could never forget the incredible thirst I had, struggling to reach for the pot of water. My legs were useless. My thoughts didn't connect to my movements. Sybil said that it would go away in a couple of more weeks when I regained mobility again."
"Regain mobility?" There was an emotion in her voice that I could've mistaken as pity. I ignored her words and continued with the story.
"Uh, yeah. My bones healed the wrong way and Sybil had to fix them." They did heal, but now and then I felt a slight shadow pain. If you drank human blood, you wouldn't feel it, I thought.
A flash of remembrance went across my mind when Sybil had to rebreak my bones. I was unable to scream anymore because my voice was so hoarse and raw. She would explain every injury to me as if she worked for some medic faction. She tied bedsheets around me and used them to realign my pelvis and torso.
Days in agony afterward, we drank only rat blood. Rumours of the rats causing a plague broke out months after. Some were beginning to suspect the humans could get us sick. Others accused the rats. We stopped feeding on rats entirely. Sybil was worried it would impact us and blood was scarce for a while. That's when we decided to head on over to France.
"Fifty years later I went to France," I replied, trailing off and remember my first memory in France.
It was then that Sybil taught me about limitations and bloodlust. She spent many days apart from me, hunting for a better-quality blood source. It was then that I fed on a human. We had no choice. It was about survival in some moments, more than it was than keeping humanity safe. The only way I would heal properly was from the source.
She was beautiful. I remember how long her limbs were. I knew that because when feeding on the same person, your sire would take the neck. I was only allowed to feed on her soft thin wrists and her smooth milky ankles. Her skin was delicate and I remember my fangs puncturing into the surface of it. My first feed.
"She taught you to be a vampire?" Marina asked, getting up and moving back onto the stage. Well, that didn't take long. She was so enamored with my story, something that I didn't think she would be interested in. Turned vampires didn't like to share their origin story, it was something too personal.
I had no idea why I was sharing it with Marina.
I drew up my legs and smirked. "Yes. She also asked me after if I fancied her. It made me laugh because that was one of the first times I saw her smile." Sybil had a beautiful smile. It lit up her whole face and made her eyes shimmer. "She smiled so rarely that when she did, it made me smile. She made me feel accepted; made me feel like everything was going to be okay."
"She was like your mother," Marina drifted off. She looked as if she was remembering something herself, a small secretive smile on her face.
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Hardly. Sybil was a firm and scary woman." Nothing about her was maternal. "She was my mentor."
"I wore my first pants with her. I suppose that was slightly maternal. It felt so good to wear pants," I drifted off into the memory, Ally's blood making me feel loopy.
The scent of sandalwood and rose followed me.
"Girl, I don't think you're comfortable in that," Sybil muttered.
I glanced down at the dress she fit me in. We were going out to see what was around here. France was the center of polite society when we were there. It was recently rebuilt. We were going into the markets outside, hoping to find any vampiric activity so we could comfortably stay under the radar.
We still fed on humans, only getting them drunk first. It was still hard to get used to my body, to adjust to the rebreaks. We blended in with the party scene. A dress wasn't something I was used to wearing. It was a reminder of who I once was. Sybil was rebuilding me; I didn't want to be rebuilt in a dress.
It would be the first time going out officially as a vampire.
She turned to the trunks of clothes she had on the floor. We were in a manor of some human family that trusted vampires and helped hide them in exchange for us biting them. Some humans loved to have a vampire bite them. The feeling of it sent them on a tailspin, so I've heard. It was almost just as addictive for them as it was to us.
"Try these on," Sybil threw a dark doublet that was embroidered in glazed linen. I slid it on and the sleeves were tight with the ends frilled. It wasn't comfortable, but something was comforting in the fact that I wasn't wearing a dress.
It was as if I belonged in it.
"This is a man's garment," I frowned, not understanding why she wanted me to wear this.
"Yes, put on the breeches as well, you want to look your best yes?" Sybil asked, a slight smirk on her scarred face.
I glanced down at the breeches imagining how ridiculous I would look in men's garments. "You want me to look like a man?" I asked, shaking my head. I couldn't possibly wear this; the men would have my head.
"I think you would be more comfortable in that. At least you look like you are," She stepped behind a divider and took off her clothes, tossing them over it. "plus, I don't think there's any way to put a comb in that hair. Might as well cut that too."
I grinned slowly, realizing that this was the best thing she could have offered. I took a look at my long, tangled hair, dried blood still matted in it.
I understood what she was saying. She was right, I would feel much more comfortable. I felt as if nothing could stop me. I was a different person, my past life completely forgotten.
Impulsively, I took clippers to my hair, chopping away the thick mane of knots. With every cut, I felt lighter. I didn't think hair would impact me this much. If only I could see into the mirror, I'd know what I was doing.
"I see you've already jumped the gun. With all the tossing and turning you'd had done, it tangled up your hair in the process," she explained, placing a hand on the clippers, "let me do it, please. You're going to ruin all my hard work with turning you. I wouldn't want you to cut your scalp open."
I nodded, taking a seat and waiting as she finished the last of my hair. I listened as she took a blade and closely shaved down the sides, leaving the top to fall over in layers. The sound of my hair getting cut was exhilarating, kick-starting me into thinking about the life I could live.
Once she was done, I ran a hand through my hair, loving the feeling of the short strands slipping between my fingers. I smiled, turning to Sybil. "Thank you so much."
I knew I looked like a man, something I didn't mind at all. I could be who I wanted, do who I wanted without feeling ashamed or like I couldn't.
She patted my arm, nodding. "Don't you feel much more like you?"
It would be the start of something different.
"Eryn," Marina called into my consciousness.
I snapped my head to the side; the scent of sandalwood rose dissipating from the area around me. I rose a brow, peering at her from closer than before.
Marina had her hand on my arm, and her eyes were open, phosphorescent under the lights we were under. "Can I let you free now? Your wrists are blistered. They should have time to heal, right?"
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I knew what she did while I was off into my head. She followed me into my memories, perhaps some sort of mermaid ability of hers I didn't know about.
"Stop using your powers on me."
ns 18.68.41.141da2
