SLAVE TO THE VAMPIRE KING

THE RED EYES

Samantha's POV

The stark white walls of the classroom loomed around me like the ghost of an outcast, their sterile surface reflecting my inner turmoil. Voices echoed louder in my mind, and when my gaze fell upon the enormous plain wall clock hanging on a nail, it seemed to stare back with an almost sinister awareness.

Tick… tock… tick… tock… tick… tock! The clock's hands twisted and turned, watching me as if I were prey in some hellish game. Time felt frozen, an inescapable trap, and I longed for any way to escape. I turned my head toward the window beside me, seeking solace in the world outside. But my moment of distraction shattered when Mrs. Sutton halted her lecture, the sudden silence heavy with expectation.

“Samantha Lambert!” Her voice pierced the air, sharp and accusatory. I turned to face her, knowing she had caught me daydreaming, and stood there, the weight of her gaze almost palpable.

“Yes, Mrs. Sutton.” I feigned interest, trying to appear fully engaged in the lesson, though my heart was far from it.

“Is there something fascinating outside my classroom?” she asked, her glare making me feel like a misbehaving child.

“Probably everything!” I muttered under my breath, and a wave of laughter rippled through the classroom at my expense.

“Oh really? It seems you know more than I do, so why don’t you enlighten us all by explaining phrase forty-one from William Shakespeare's sonnet?” Her thin lips twisted into a mocking smile, a challenge veiled in amusement.

I could sense the satisfaction in her voice, a thrill she derived from my discomfort. Among all the teachers in this school, she was the strictest, and she clearly relished in the role of my tormentor. My past struggles with dyslexia were no secret, and after I had declined her offer for extra tutoring, she had coldly made me repeat the year. As I flipped through the pages, my heart raced; where was phrase forty-one?

Finally, I located it and grasped the book firmly in my hands, forcing myself to read aloud, my voice shaky. “More sinned against than sinning…”

“Can you explain that, Samantha?” The amusement in her tone escalated, a smug satisfaction lighting her eyes. She was well aware of my struggles with literature, and her words stung like venom.

“Umm… yeah!!” My mind scrambled for a coherent thought, but I felt the weight of pressure bearing down on me.

“Just save it, Lambert! It’s of no use! You can’t even read properly. Why waste your parents’ money on education? Sometimes, I feel sorry for them having a daughter like you.” Her words cut deep, sharper than any knife, a familiar sting I had come to dread.

“I always wanted to learn to read and write, even though it was hard for me. But bullies like you exist, and it’s no wonder students like me are hesitant to stand up and speak for their rights. We lack confidence because we’ve been fed the notion that we’re worthless. I know I’m different, but I’m okay with that. I’m rare.” I lifted my chin defiantly, meeting her gaze.

She gasped theatrically, feigning hurt. “Being different doesn’t mean you’re better. That’s just a waste of time. Your sister was better, in fact. She was the pride of this school, and you’re nothing in comparison. Sadly, no one can do anything about it. When students like you don’t improve, you start to blame others for your shortcomings.”

I sank back into my chair, a heavy frown etched on my face as I pondered her cold words. My anger simmered, not just because of my struggles with literature, but because she constantly compared me to my sister. Amanda, the golden child, the sweet girl whose every achievement was a reminder of my inadequacies. Those medals and awards were more than just recognition; they were a reflection of my failure.

Now, Amanda was working alongside Dad, helping him with his business, basking in the glow of his praise while I languished in the shadows.

After the final bell rang, I trudged home, the weight of disappointment heavy on my shoulders. I felt like a ghost in my own family, my presence barely acknowledged because of my failing grades. I was anything but the ideal child that Amanda had been.

“I’m back!!” I announced my arrival with a hollow cheerfulness.

“Oh, there you are! Put your bag in your room and take out the trash like I asked you last night.” My mom appeared from her room, her expression blank as she handed me a bag. The love I longed for felt distant, and I braced myself for the indifference I had come to expect.

“Mom, I just got back from school, and I’m tired. I’ll take it out later,” I replied grumpily, moving toward the door.

“That’s what you said last night, but you forgot. You can’t even remember what chores you have. You did nothing well at school; how are you even tired?” Her voice rose, sharp and unforgiving, and I stood there in shock.

I had hoped for some understanding, a glimmer of compassion, but I was met with coldness. It was either follow her orders or live in Amanda's shadow.

“What’s wrong with you, Mom?” I dared to ask, frustration bubbling over.

“What’s wrong with you, Sam? You neither focus on your studies nor help me at home. What do you expect me to feel? Grateful for your mediocrity?” She crossed her arms, her stare icy.

“Not everyone is as good as Amanda! I thought you would understand me! I’m not a copy of her; I might have my own talents!” My voice rose in anger, hurt pride spilling over as her comparisons cut deeper.

“Don’t you dare yell at your mother, you useless child! Your teacher called me and explained how poor your efforts are in your studies. Now, you’re digging your own grave by talking back!” Her scream echoed in my ears.

My heart raced with fury. Amanda was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, while I was the afterthought, the disappointment. They loved her more, showering her with praise and attention while I was left to fight for scraps of affection.

Unable to contain my emotions, I bolted from the house, tears blurring my vision as I ran into the backyard. I dashed toward the deep forest nearby, a refuge from the chaos of my home. My mother’s calls faded into the distance, a threat of punishment lingering, but I didn't care.

How pathetic was it to live surrounded by family yet feel utterly alone? I vowed never to return to that suffocating hell. I plunged deeper into the forest, the eerie stillness enveloping me like a shroud. I had never ventured this far before, and though it was hauntingly beautiful, an unsettling feeling crept into my chest.

The silence was a melody, yet unease fluttered inside me. I couldn’t shake the sensation that I was being watched.

A lump formed in my throat, choking off my breath. My steps slowed, panic rising within me. I decided it was best to turn back, but as I turned to retrace my steps, I heard a rustle behind me. My heart plummeted.

With trembling hands, I turned to confront whatever was following me, but the path was empty. A wave of relief washed over me, but just as I began to breathe again, I felt a presence looming behind me. I turned, and my breath caught in my throat.

A pair of blazing red eyes pierced through the darkness, captivating and terrifying. They drew me in, their hypnotic glow holding me captive as I felt my consciousness slipping away into the abyss of darkness.