Walls were usually there to keep people out, not in.
The balcony door was sealed shut; Adalie couldn’t even step outside to feel the rain. Hugo, the shady butler, guarded the gates of the mansion, blocking her escape. It had been like this for more than a year.
Adalie thought things would be different as a vampire. In the throes of pain, in the confused chaos of transformation, she had dreamt of bird-like freedom. But her patriarch was over protective.
She watch the rain splatter on the window thinking how nice it would be if it all turned to blood. The hunger was rising up inside her. Maurice would bring her a meal, but that wasn’t what her new body wanted. Predatory instincts begged to be released.
How could she endure this torture?
Adalie traced a finger along the weld that held the door shut. She knew she was stronger than in her past life, but was never given the chance to test how much she had changed.
In an almost absent-minded spasm, she struck the door with her open palm. It blew off its hinges. Licking the blood from her hand, Adalie disappeared into the night.
*A response to the Sunday Photo Fiction prompt for 01 January.