Mixed Breed Filth

Diana's Point of View 

“Mixed-breed filth,” Aunt Hilda sneers as she slaps me across the face.

The force of the slap and her sheer, monstrous strength sent me crashing to the ground. The tray of crystal glasses I was holding crashing beside me.

The glasses shatter and red wine spreads like blood across the floor.

Everyone in the room laughs cruelly. 

I try to get up, but Aunt Hilda steps on my head with so much force that my face smashes into the floor, right into the mess of shattered glass.

I wince in pain but didn’t dare cry out loud, knowing it would only make the punishment worse.

"You filthy thing… how dare you break my expensive crystal glasses? These things are worth more than your entire existence,” she snarls, pressing her heel harder into my bleeding face.

The room roared with more laughter.

Tears filled my eyes, but not from the pain.

No. I was used to it.

But from the fact that all the Vampires in this room were once my father’s subjects and friends. Men and women who toasted him, praised him, pledged loyalty to his name.

They had all eaten and drank at his table… yet now, they watched me, his daughter suffer and laughed.

Not that I blamed them.

After all, my own aunt was the one inflicting the pain. Why would they value me any more than she did?

I remember when I was little, the only memories I have of being happy.

Back when I was treated like a princess by both of my parents and the people around me.

My father, Lord Rafael Bloom, was a feared Vampire Lord who ruled half the Kingdom, second to no one but the King. He was said to be so powerful, he walked under the sun, a trait no other vampire possessed. Not even the King himself.

On one of his daily walks, he encountered an injured woman. His heightened senses could tell she wasn’t ordinary… and she definitely wasn’t like him.

In fact, she was his worst enemy.

She was a werewolf. And very far from her territory.

Under normal law, if a vampire ever spotted a werewolf on Blood Ground, which basically meant vampire soil, he was meant to kill it.

And my father, being the feared, powerful Vampire Lord, would never have hesitated.

But for some reason, the moment he laid eyes on her… he just couldn’t hurt her.

He always said it was love at first sight.

He spared her life.

Not only did he do that, he brought her to his home… which instantly caused an uproar in the entire Kingdom.

My father was immediately summoned by the Vampire King, who was enraged.

Werewolves were their worst enemies.

Sparing one was considered treason. And it could cost my father his life.

The Vampire King ordered my father to kill my mother immediately.

But my father refused. He even challenged him, saying:

“No one will touch a hair on her head as long as I live. And I plan on living for a very long time. And no one will change that. Not even you, Your Majesty.”

He said it with a bow before turning and walking away. But the bow wasn’t submission. It was a warning.

Everyone was enraged. But in truth, they all feared him, and could do nothing about it.

So they let him be.

You would think my mother would go back to her people, to her pack, to wherever she belonged, but you would be wrong.

My mother was an outcast. A rogue wolf. And she couldn’t return home.

And just like my father fell in love with her… she fell in love with him.

And then they had me.

A mistake, according to everyone else.

“Get up, you filth!” my aunt roars, dragging me back to reality before kicking me in the stomach.

It hurt like hell. Because vampires were incredibly strong, and aunt Hilda came from a lineage of pure bloods. Unlike me, who was weak, with tainted blood.

I cough and struggle to stand up.

Glass particles poking out from the side of my face. Blood ran down my cheek, hot and thick, mixing with the wine on the floor.

I was in extreme pain..but I held it in.

"Clean that up immediately,” she ordered.

I nod.

I wasn’t allowed to speak. Not to her. Not to anyone.

I wasn’t even allowed to make eye contact.

They said I wasn’t good enough to even look at them.

I turn to leave, to get a broom, or anything I could use to clean up the shattered glass, but Aunt Hilda stops me.

“Where do you think you’re going? Get back here and pick up every single shard of glass! With your bare hands!”

I turn back and nod, before dropping to my knees.

My hands are trembling as I reach for a piece of glass. My fingers already filled with tiny cuts.

I curse in my mind… I curse my entire existence.

Oh, how I wished I had never been born. Never conceived. Never dreamt of.

How I wished my parents had never met.

How I wished I could vanish into the same dust they buried my father in.

As I pick up the shards of glass, the sound of the door creaking open made my blood freeze.

Someone had entered the room.

I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. I could feel his hatred like poison in the air. It was inescapable.

My uncle Darius.

My father’s brother.

My number one hater.

If you thought my aunt hated me?

Then you were wrong.

She was merciful compared to him.

“My, my… why is little Diana on the floor?” he asks, his voice coated in something sickly sweet. The kind of voice that made my skin crawl.

My body begins to tremble violently.

I couldn’t stop it even if I tried.

I feared him more than anything.

My face, my palms, my knees, they were already bleeding.

My chest aching from sobbing.

I couldn’t take any more punishment today.

“This filth broke my crystal glasses,” my aunt sneers from behind him.

“Is that so?” my uncle murmurs, crouching beside me slowly.

I flinch.

My trembling worsened as he got closer to me. I kept my head down, my eyes fixed on the floor.

Because I wasn’t allowed to look at them Under any circumstances.

“Now why would you break your aunt’s crystal glasses… Moonflower?” he asks softly.

Moonflower.

Only my father ever called me that.

My uncle knew it.

He used it on purpose.

A single tear slid down my cheek.

“Answer me!” he snaps suddenly, his voice booming through the room.

My heart slams against my ribs.

But I didn’t speak.

I couldn’t.

I wasn’t allowed to no matter what.

“Are you deaf?” he hisses, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my face upward.

Pain shot through my scalp as I was forced to face him.

I shut my eyes immediately.

Because I wasn’t allowed to look at him.

I shook my head profusely, the tears now pouring freely. My lips trembling.

“Speak!” he orders."

“I… I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, barely more than a breath.

My uncle’s face twists in disgust.

Without warning, he stands and, using every bit of his strength, punches me across the face.

My head snaps to the side.

My body collapses onto the floor.

My vision blurs.

“How dare you speak to me you tainted filth!"

Laughter erupts again.

Around me.

Above me.

From everywhere.

Mocking.

Cruel.

Never-ending.

“Get up and get out!” my aunt snaps.

Pain explodes through my body when I tried to sit up.

I couldn’t even see clearly.

Everything spun.

But I didn’t want to be hit again, so I tried to obey.

I wobble to my knees, trying to stand.

I fell.

Hard.

They laughed harder.

I tried again.

And fell again.

So I gave up trying to stand and crawled pathetically toward the door, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Then my uncle's voice came again. Very loud and clear.

“You’ve messed up the entire floor with your filthy blood. Come back here and clean it up.”

I nod weakly, still not lifting my head.

But then I hear him say something so horrific.

“Take off all your clothes… and clean my floors."