"Again?" sneered a cynical voice, bolder now than it had been the day before.
Florian curled himself into the corner, shrinking as though he could vanish into the walls. His knees drew up tightly against his chest, arms wrapped around them in a desperate embrace.
Hot tears spilled down his face, blurring his vision as his trembling hands clung to the blood-soaked breeches.
The blood reeked. It was thick, dark, and unforgiving—vampire blood. Kin blood. A grotesque truth that burrowed into his mind and refused to let go.
His wails echoed off the walls, raw and primal, but the agony only deepened. As he grew desperate, he began slamming his knuckles into his own temple, again and again, trying to pound the torment into silence.
A cruel laugh twisted through the room, low and guttural. "Do you think that will stop it?" the voice growled, dripping with venom. "Do you think beating your pathetic little skull will change anything?"
