It was stupid really, but no one could blame him, could they? It wasn't like these things were supposed to be possible in reality, not in<i>his</i>reality. Though he had been searching for such a thing, had been hoping for it... It wasn't as if he had actually thought that such a thing would be possible. He hadn't thought that monsters of the inhuman variety existed... And yet here he was writhing on the ground, body feeling as though the blood in his veins was boiling and yet he couldn't even scream, his voice lost in the darkness of the alley. His emerald-colored eyes watered, large tears trickling down his cheeks to the cement bellow, fingers clawing at his throat.<br/><br/>This agony had started only hours earlier, one stupid decision had led him to a night of drinking and fun... Or at least that was what was supposed to be happening. Instead, he'd found himself being pushed to a brick wall as fangs pierced his throat, the pain making him shudder and grip the front of his assailant's shirt. Yet... He couldn't fight back. He couldn't push him away, he couldn't even scream... Were this the end for him that night he could have accepted it with as much composure as the dying can, and perhaps it was that which his attacker found to be interesting. Interesting enough to truly make him suffer.<br/><br/>The next moment he felt the fangs leave his skin, he recalled the grin on the man's face as his red hair was grabbed and he was forced to drink some of the vampire's own blood... That was the start of his true torment. He was tossed aside as the burning began, first in his throat like a brand had been shoved inside him, and slowly it spread through his petite form. He clawed at the bite mark, at his chest... Anything to alleviate the pain, anything to end it all, and instead he remained there for what felt like hours until the pain subsided enough for him to think straight.<br/><br/>He blinked as he lay there panting, blood and saliva and bile pooled on the ground not far from him, though he didn't remember vomiting... But he didn't remember much aside from the white-hot pain. It took a long time before he realized he was alone, that his attacker was gone. Yet, as he slowly sat up and looked down at his messy clothes and his hands that were coated in his own blood, he noticed something that made him shiver. His green eyes rested on his arms, looking for those marks that should have been there, scabbed and sore... But they were gone. He hurriedly looked around and found a shard of glass on the ground nearby and dragged it along his arm without a second thought, but even as the blood pooled up he watched as the corners of the wound slowly began stitching themselves together.<br/><br/>The glass dropped back to the ground as he wrapped his arms around his waist, his breaths swift and shallow. This was insane... He had finally lost it... right? There was no way those things were real, there was no way he was now<i>one of them</i>. It had to be a joke, a bad dream... Maybe he'd been drugged? He finally forced himself to his feet, but it wasn't as if he had anywhere to go, anyone to call... That was what had started all this to begin with. Still, sitting here alone in this alley felt unnerving. What if his attacker came back? He couldn't go through that pain again... But if he was what he thought... Then perhaps trying to go somewhere "safe" was foolish.<br/><br/>(sorry, my opening ones are usually a little long)