Drake Culla

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
Drake Culla... Dracula's son. Hero High's BAD GUY!!! *dun dun dun!!*
OK sorry about that. :D
The ideas belong to Avery! :D

Submitted: November 24, 2011

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Submitted: November 24, 2011

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"You're the son of Dracula, for God's sake!"

Drake hit the wall with an almighty crash and collapsed in a heap on the floor. His hair was wild, his eyes panicky, his breath coming in short, rapid gasps. A dull pain arched across his back.

Dracula advanced upon him, fury contorted along his face.

"You're my son. My son does not go about making friends and becoming so popular that they are invited to parties."

Drake swallowed nervously. "She invited everyone in her class... Not just me." He lied.

Dracula's eyes narrowed. They blazed and his pupils turned into slits. He was hypnotising him. Drake tried to look away, but failed.

"So..." he repeated slowly. "The whole class was invited... Are you sure?"

Drake took a deep berath, digging his fingers into his palms, clenching his fists. His whole body shook with the effort of not moving his lips. Dracula's powers were incredibly strong. So strong that he was practically twisting Drake's mind.

"No..." He whispered.

A fist slammed into his chest. He was dangled in the air by his father's strong grip. Dracula hissed, baring his fangs as he mercilessly crushed his own son on the wall once again. Cracks ran along the old brick building.

"You. Are. Not. Going." He snarled, his fingers slowly beginning to creep round Drake's throat. "You ignore that girl, you stay away from her, and you stay away from everybody... Or else!"

"Yes father." Drake croaked, squirming. He was a young vampire, his powers not fully developed, he was a weak and helpless prey in Count Dracula's grip.

"Drake Culla," his father hissed. "You know the consequences. We're vampires, we are powerful, we do not mix with humans unless we make them..."

He suddenly stopped, and dropped his son on the ground, a slow smile spreading across his pale face. "Actually Drake, you can bring the girl here... Show her around the house... I would love to meet the girl who could attract my son..."

"Don't..." Drake struggled to push himself up.

Another fist crunched into his chest and he collapsed on the ground once again. "Do it!" Dracula growled. "Or I'll rip you apart, limb by limb. There's a precious lesson you need to learn, boy..."

Drake curled up in a corner, silent. He licked his lip from the last droplet of blood, and felt his chest flare with agony. Not agony from his father's cruel fists or the agony of hunger, but the agony of a broken heart, empty loneliness, confusion, and the agony of the fact that her blood ran through his veins.

He couldn't believe he did it. He, unlike the other vampires, did not need to feed only on a cow's or an animal's blood to survive. He could survive on any blood, human or otherwise. But he was terrified. Terrified by the message his father had delivered to him across her dead body.

"Friends, are not important." He said slowly, cleaning out his fangs. "Especially not human friendship. Of course, having a companion for life is important, but what's not important are any other friends. Friends who are useless, friends who are simply there and cause a nuisance. Your goal and yourself is what matters most. Friends just get in the way. You need to learn that, my son.

"Loneliness does not matter. That is just something you'll have to get used to. Friends are just tools. Tools you use. Fake friendship is perfectly fine, you use them, and when they're of no use to you anymore, you throw them away."

"But she..." Drake pointed, choking from the tears.

"No, 'she' doesn't exist anymore." Dracula interrupted his son. "Remember this well, friends are either tools, or a nuisance. Believe me, the closer you are to them, the more harm they can deal."

He stood up, his face dark, turning round, hisblack clothesblended in with the darkness of the room. Before he walked away, he said:

"You don't know what that girl was thinking. You don't know how she betrayed you. I saved you, Drake, I hope you remember that. Friends are dangerous. Never make friends."

Hewalked away, and Drake crouched there, staring emptily down at the floor.

Dracula's voice echoed.

Never make friends.

"Mummy's gone." Maybella exclaimed, clinging on to Drake's arm. She was a small, young girl at about the age of six. She blinked her pretty eyes up at her father. "Daddy? Daddy!"

Drake stood in shock, completely frozen. A dull pain spread across his chest. He remembered that feeling, from years ago.

"Francine's gone?" He whispered.

Little Maybella frowned but didn't say anything.

"She's gone?" He repeated.

He felt empty. Everything was going so well. The days were gone when he had to mop the floor for those so-called Heroes. The days were gone when he had those Heroes laugh in his face. He had found his other half. They rose in power. He pretended to die, so that they could stand together for eternity and rule.

And now she's gone. Gone and surrendered. Because he didn't realise she loved him so much so as to die with him. Because he was stupid and didn't tell her about it beforehand.

Drake had learnt to defend himself from the harm from friends, like his father had taught. He had taught that to Maybella as well, and made sure that she was apart from the other kids, alone. But even now, it was hard. Hard to defend himself from the pain and loss, far worse than everything that he had experienced.

"Daddy?" Maybella whimpered.

Drake clenched his hand into a fist and smashed it into the wall. It cracked and crumbled, much to his satisfaction, butit wasn't enough to relieve him of his agony.

"Daddy?"

Drake took a deep breath. For Maybella, he had to pretend he didn't care. He stood up grimly and straightened his back, even though his heart shattered to splinters with the motion. He turned and put on an icy mask.

"Yes, Mummy's gone." He told her, keeping the tremble out of his voice and the urge to scream. "But it doesn't matter now. She's gone, and there's nothing we can do about it. Now you will have to grow up and do what your Mother has failed to achieve."

They're just tools. He repeated to himself. Friends are just tools.

At the same time, he realised that for the rest of his life, he couldn't bear to lose anything. Ever again.

Maybella nodded, not really looking like she understood.

"We'll take revenge on those Heroes, OK? We'll make them pay for what they did to your Mother."

Maybella nodded again.That she could understand.

"You should go to bed now. Think about all these things I've told you." He murmured.

"Yes, Daddy." Maybella said, giving him a quick innocent hug before skipping off to her room. She didn't look like she cared, and Drake could tell by the look on her face that she was probably thinking about some kind of video game.

No, she was useless. She couldn't spring the revenge he wanted. She was too weak. No... What he needed, was another.

Drake turned on his heels and strode out of the room. Yes, revenge for Francine. That would be nice.

He pulled a pencil from a pencil pot, and immediately, a switch activated. The desk slid over to reveal a trap door. Drake stepped down into the cellar, where it was decorated for a child. A child that would surely strike the revenge that he wanted. This was his only reminder of Francine, and, remarkably, this girl had similar features to the one before Francine. This was his treasure. Even Maybella didn't know about her, or at least, didn't know how much more Drake valued about that girl than her.

J.J. smiled, laughed, and little crackles of electricity ran down her pudgy little fingers.

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Lemme just say that all the above is just for a story. Took me a while to think up why you shouldn't have friends. XD I love making loads of friends, and I have loads of friends. They are awesome! :D :D :D

Uh... If you really want, you can take this story as a warning of how friends are exactly the opposite of what Dracula said, unless you'rea ruthless cold-hearted person.


© Copyright 2017 Jingle Q. All rights reserved.

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