Draven had thought deeply about it and could not seem to figure out what it was about him that was worth loving. He was a man called the devil's son by his own father—a man seen as nothing but evil and said to reek of filth. He was a man who'd been tortured, hated, beaten, locked up and looked at with contempt.
Nobody was willing to pity him, regardless of his being a harmless child who knew nothing and was not at all capable of hurting or committing an unforgivable crime. His mere existence alone was like an unwanted germ tainting their world.
What reason did they have to fear him? He had not done anything worth having them fear him as though he were a monster. He was just like them—a vampire, merely born into the world to live and grow, so why?
Why do they tremble at the mere sound of his voice? Why do they look as though they'd wished to run each time he took a step closer to them, be it the maids, the workers, or the civilians?
