Cash Frost Biography
My name is Cash Frost and I'm a pureblood vampire thanks to my parents. Rumor has it that my mother died in child birth, something common of the time period I was born into. My father, I never knew, but I was told his name. Dimitri Frost. I don't think my father ever knew about me, which made my life growing up even harder. You see, it's not so much the why he wasn't in my life, but the not knowing that played havoc on my mind and emotions. Some say he didn't even know about me and that I'll always hold against my mother god rest her soul.
I grew up in an orphanage in the northern part of Romania, a towering eerie place at the foot of the tallest mountain. I was tormented daily by the other kids until one fateful night when my tormentors took their fun a little too far and tried to hang me. I can still remember their screams when my fangs had dropped and sank into their pulsing veins of their necks. I fled as soon as the last body hit the cold tile floor of the lavatory. I was eight at the time.
I had found a cave deep into the mountain side and cowered in fear there, shaking and trembling, wondering what I was. Their blood coated my hands and the night shirt I wore, making it seem like I'd just been to a slaughter and I had been. A slaughter of my own making. I knew I couldn't stay anywhere near the orphanage any longer, I had to find a safe shelter far away.
For the next seven centuries, I stayed out of sight during the day and only ventured out at night. I fed on rodents and other filthy disgusting creatures, anything I could find to feed from. In the month of my sixteenth birth year, I had heard through the grapevine on the streets that a regal male vampire had returned to his home here in Romania. My heart thudded loudly once in my chest when I heard his name. Dimitri Frost. My father. Rumor had it that he had returned for his child, I was so filled with joy, thinking that he did know about me all along and only found where I had been all this time, but my hopes where to be crushed.
That night, I made my way to his home, a grand mansion with wrought iron gates towering over the city. I wanted to rush to the door and fling it open and scream "Poppa I'm home!" but as I took a step out of the shadows of the street, I saw him walk out to his car, a phone in hand and tell whoever was on the other end that he'd found his daughter and was returning to Italy with all due haste. A daughter I had frowned and wanted to scream at him that I was a son not a daughter! Just as I was turning around to leave, I watched the little girl run out of the house and into my father's arms. A sadness the likes I'd never felt before consumed me and opening my mind to his, I whispered low "Goodbye father". With that said, I melted back into the night from which I'd come. He didn't want me, he never did and I knew that after what I'd witnessed.
My mind set on Italy, I was determined to go there and find my own way. Even if my father refused to acknowledge me as his son, I was still a Frost and would use my name. I was still a fledgling by vampire years and looked about 17 in human years. I would find a way to enroll in school there and use all the tools at my disposal to ensure my survival. I was a vampire and planned to utilize my powers of enthrallment if needed.
Now I reside in New York City in America and have my own apartment on the lower east side. It's a huge condo, andit keeps me dry and warm. Maybe one day I'll meet my father again and maybe, just maybe he will recognize me as his son.