Chapter 11: There is a dungeon under the hut...

 My hands give the occasional twitch. More, I can't do. I am bound with heavy chains, and on the floor in the basement of the hut. Ferenc has a dungeon. Who knew? I feel the fever come over me. I haven't typed in the blog in a while now, and my fingers twitch to share this new situation I am in with my readers. 

What would killyourself89 say about this? Probably: 

Why did you trust the hot guy, you doofos? Who would want a loser like you? Just wait for your death. - killyourself89. 

I can see the words before my eyes, and the phone screen too. I know I have a problem, but it all began with my childhood. For the last straw of my sanity, I will pretend that killyourself89 can hear me. So, killyourself89, I have a tale for you. 

My life began when my parents emigrated to Munich. They had many hopes and dreams, but it was all over after their work accident. They were circus performers. Yes, I can already read what you have to say to that, dear killyourself89.

No wonder. You are a clown, from a lineage filled with clowns. -killyourself89. 

Yes, as much as it pained me to admit that, back when I was young and now, I have to say that I used to dress up for performances in school, and played as a clown. 

Someone wanted to see you make a fool of yourself in school? You mean they didn't run away from you, so you won't infect them with your loser aura? - killyourself89. 

Well, I could pull a balloon figurine out of a normal balloon like no one else, and... wait, did I just hear a voice in my head? I could have sworn that I didn't imagine those last words, but heard them in my head. 

You are a vampire, remember? When you focused on me, you made a connection. -killyourself89. 

That is astonishing. Killyourself89, I need help. I am in a hut near the Hungarian border, chained, and need to see the inside of a police car. Preferably, while wrapped in a blanket. 

My real name is Aliz. - killyourself89.

Wait? Ferenc's Aliz? You knew that he was going to capture me, and didn't say anything about it? We knew each other for three years, for crying out loud! Really, killyourself89, I hope you choke on my blood, and that your dick shivers up after a couple of centuries. 

Hold your horses, I don't want to become a vampire. Also, I don't want Ferenc's dick in my ass. Just because he paid for my schooling, doesn't mean I am his property, darn it. I am hetero, and have a girlfriend! - killyourself89. 

I see BDMS in your future, Aliz. Hehe, that sounds just about right. You should have known with whom you tangle yourself with. Did Ferenc make you learn all those languages you listed the other day?

You are reading story When you are dead, but not at novel35.com

He did. Every time I took a break from learning languages, he'd send me a dick pic. - killyourself89.

Oh, what wouldn't I give to receive one of Ferenc's dick pics? Will I die, knowing only what his thumbs look like?

I have a deal for you. He won't let me bite you, until you lose all the weight. It has something to do with him wanting to keep me looking good, and not wanting any of your health problems to manifest in me. So, the deal is simple. We gang on Ferenc, and you kill him. Sounds simple enough, right? -killyourself89. 

Oh, why didn't I think of that? Yes, let us gang up on the vampire that has fought in wars, and hope to kill him. You are a jail bait, Aliz. Learn to live with it. Think about it that way. I still have to pay you back for all the insults you hurled at me during the years, do I not? Killyourself89, I have only one thing to say to you: suck a dick. Hehe. 

I receive no answer, and figure out that killyourself89 has put a plug on the connection somehow. That is fine. It is not like I need him. Hm, maybe I should have asked him where he is now? After all, if he is not in the hut, he can't bite me, right? I hear footsteps, and see Ferenc in all of his blond glory. He is carrying a squirming rat. 

Now that he is no longer pretending to be nice, I can see that he has one hell of a nasty sneer on his lips. His nose is turned up, and he is looking at me as if I am a particularly stubborn piece of gum, that he stepped on. 

"It is time for you to have something to drink," now, not even his voice has the same appeal. I feel cheated. 

"I won't drink," I say, and clamp my mouth shut. That doesn't help because Ferenc cuts the rat, and I smell the blood. My stomach begins to rumble, and all I can think of is the blood. I open my mouth, and the animal finds itself pierced on my fangs. I am so hungry, that not even the foul taste of the pelt registers to me. 

"Where did you say you found the vampire, who turned you?" Ferenc asks me, and I spit out the rat to answer. It is not like there is any blood left in the corpse. 

"Algeria," I say, and the man, who, I thought before, was an angel sent from Heaven to fulfil all of my dreams, said something in Hungarian that sounded possibly insulting. I wonder what killyourself89 would say to his sugar daddy being a racist? 

"If you didn't have the blood that I need, I'd throw you out with the trash," Ferenc said, and something in my chest hurts. He leaves, and with him, the last of my hopes and dreams. 

Let us be real here. The chances that aristocratic vampires in Germany, or anywhere else, won't pull a Ferenc on me, and try to make their dolls immortal is slim to none. Will I die just like that, though? Hell no! 

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