What the hell. What the hell. What the.. Adrian shivered violently, staggering backwards into a wall, and sinking to his knees. He brought them to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs in what was almost a fetal position, and looked forward with glassy eyes empty of comprehension, breathing heavily. In his mind, a kaleidoscope of images and thoughts whirled violently, without rhyme or reason, but the teenager still failed to grasp the enormity of the situation, on any level. This could only be a nightmare, but somehow he knew it wasn't. The very realization, the very thought that it could be, made itself obsolete. You can never question a nightmare, and here he was questioning.
Adrian could feel his heartbeat, feel the blood pump through his veins with the vigor of panic. Adrenaline made him shake slightly, made his thoughts race to repeat the words of the mysterious figure again and again. He was trapped. He was trapped, by a collar that would do the same to him as the.. a wave of nausea overcame him at the thought of the red-haired girl, at the realization that his crimson blood would spread just as violently if he disobeyed. He would have to kill.. kill, or die in thirty days. At the thought, a whimper escaped his lips, and he buried his face in his hands with a groan, curling up even tighter, as if trying to grow a protective shell. It was all too much.
Through panic, through fear, through total shock, the teenager began to cry. His curled body was wracked with sobs, and his mind still tried to assimilate the total chaos that his life had become. Yesterday, his biggest worry had been coming out. Today, he would be lucky to last until the night without painting the walls and floor with the contents of his jugular.