Tessa Bates
Well we all have a sob story, a place where our drama begins. Where the series of events started to screw up our life. There are those, though, whose stories are far worse than mine. But I must have some place to blame my psychotic disposition on. Even at the very beginning of my life I was deprived of a mothers love. I was never given the chance to know my mother, even at birth they kept me from her eyes. For good reasons, though, I know that is true now.
To go back further before my birth; my father was a middle class hard working man who had been on his own since 21. He was very successful in his small law firm in his small town of Piedmont North Dakota. Though, it never proved to be enough for him, and everyone urged him to go onto New York. Being the easily urged man that he is, he took their advice to find work in the big city. It was hard to find an apartment, and even worse a job. When he did, they forced him to live in a lower class living style. Anyway, to make a long story short, this tight wad of a man met a wild, over angered big crazed city woman; who ws living off drunk men's money.
The poor innocent small time guy my father is, err was, fell in love with her. They eventually moved in his a larger apartment together. All that extra money mum had from jackin' those guys off. Even killed a few, she brought 'em home sometimes and cut em up real bad. Dad just ignored it and hoped it would go away, which brought on his drinking problem. But he knew, and she knew, and soon the authorities knew. Took her away from me dad, even though she was pregnant. They proved her too crazy to take on real punishment and locked her up in white rooms! Around that time I was born and they took me away from her. She was too crazy to hold up a child. They let me dad raise me the best he could.
I'm afraid I drove that man crazy as I grew up. Reminded him too much like mums. I even killed him, the officers said I didn't but I'm sure I did. I was about 7, just got back from school and ask dad why I didn't have a mummy. He said she blew her brains out, now you just can't say that to a child. Being the darling thing I was I started yelling and throwing things at him. He couldn't handle it and he took me and started to strangle meand beat me against the kitchen counter. I panicked and took the butcher knife and sliced his throat. I guess he let me watch too many action movies, cause I burned the apartment down after that. I was so frightened. I told the cops I did it but they didn't believe me and put me in a catholic orphanage.
So to make a long story short, I was there, top of my class the entire way through 12th grade. They always claimed it was psychosis intelligence, that I had problems. But I always shook my head and smiled, keeping my anger to myself.
I eventually did go into the study of psychology, went through college to become a Criminal profiler. Amazed by how the brain works in the imbalance of chemicals. I was amazed on how the criminally insane carried through with their killings. How they were connected and were fascinated by their victims. I was always warned this line of work would morph my brain, but I just smiled and shook my head.
I was happy with my work and I was successful in every aspect of it. I was making good money and I always caught my criminal. I was the highest paid Criminal Profiler in the FBI. But I got too good for my own good. They started talking insane, something like creatures of the night. They said it was top secret, but I took it for incoherent babble.
Eventually I believed them; they gave me slides of those who could be photographed. Ones in their coffins and some feeding off of human blood. They told me they needed me to study their behavior and make a map for the type of people they would kill, why they would kill them, how they would kill them.
So they gave me a file on a woman named Ana N. Dinescu, A.K.A. Nexxus. A vicious killer they had been tracking for a while. They said she knew this somehow, but I couldn't believe it, not with the technology they had. I was naïve though, which is why they picked me to go out and observe her. They could spend losing my mind, they had many more lined up behind me, more money craving feinds.
Never the less I followed orders and when to go lie to a vampire. I asked her if I could bored there while I got on my feet in the city. I told her I has seen the add about the rooms in the newspaper. She gladly excepted and welcomed me with great honor, like I was a princess or something. She was a wonderful host, up until the 2nd day I was there and research was great, and I thought she would never know. She snatched me from the bed in the room she had given me. Ms. Dinescu cast me away into her dungeon where no light was given to my eyes. I soon became sensitive to it all. The noise the little light that came through the trap door.
This was the downfall of my life. She tortured me like I was some kind of animal. Carved my skin with the dullest of knives, kept my blood in jars as it poured out. The only things she gave me to survive on were bred and water. Feeding it to me like a crippled beast left rot in her dungeon.
I soon lost track of time; days melted into nights and soon days no longer existed. Then even time seemed to be a fable. I just hung there with shackles on my wrists and ankles. Left to die like a Criminal.
I swear though someone was looking out for me. For one day, I remember it was day because it was no so long ago, a man came to the house while the beast (Ana) was sleeping and helpless. I heard the commotion above me.
He killed her guardians and got to her coffin, he didn't kill her though. I could still hear her in my head as they wheeled the coffin out. She hurt bad and bleeded to death.
I made as much noise as I could for him to hear me. It took a while for him to get it. But he found me just the same. Let my shackles free and carried me off to the foyer, laying me on the entry's circle couch. He found me torn with hardly any clothes on, except for a line of a bikini. I was left for famine, looking like an anorexic bimbo. I was a horrid sight, cut and pale to death. He gave me some magic elixir that wounded most of my cuts and bruises; it revived me to say the least. Brought me back from the grasps of death.
This man, I never did get his name-what a pity cause he was left to the fate of one the creatures-but now I'm getting ahead of this story, He games his shirt and another sweatshirt when he put me in his car. I believe I had hypo-thermia, I was left under leaky pipes for god knows how long without any clothes. He said he has some business to take care of, I didn't mind I was to out of it. I blacked out on the drive to this club anyway.
He took me into meet some woman. But she wasn't just some woman; she was a great beauty, blessed with an angel's touch and as deadly as the thorns on roses. I knew this some how and somehow I was drawn to her like a moth to light. I knew her; she crept inside of me controlling my love for her. I couldn't understand it but it was true. My mind said you couldn't trust her but yet it said, love her.
I was so confused, she didn't help it either. She did some magic on the man who saved me, aged him 50 years in a flash some how. I was frightened, but more drawn than anything.
When she was done with her business she turned to me and asked me a few questions. Like how I got to Ms. Ana's house, except she called her Nexxus, I was confused as to why. I shrugged it off and answered whatever she threw at me trying to close myself off like I was taught to in college. But somehow she was able to draw out everything that could give me away.
Soon she was done with me. Throwing me her keys and advising me to go home get some clothes and stay at a hotel. I inched out away from the empty club. It was so hard for me to leave her presence but I managed. And little did I know that I would find myself back at her club the following night. Defying my exhaustion I went to seek her out without a reason why?
That was a mistake, daddy always told me that the best religion is a dead religion. I preached to them about how it was all bullshit, I was 8 then. They beat me pretty badly until I learned to repress my true feelings.
So they sent me out to Louisiana, somewhere in the high hills. I couldn't exactly remember where but I know it was in the middle of no where. This house sat on a hill, it was 2 steps short of being a castle. I couldn't believe Ms. Dinescu could afford it on her own.
