A single figure walking through the rain, cut a lonely shadow in the night mist. His amber eyes looked around. He turned a corner and paused under a street lamp to shake rain water out of his hair.
The young black haired man sat quivering. "Please, please don't-- "
"Then you should of known better than to cross paths with a vampire, young Apollo, and hoped to live."
The carpet splattered with blood.
"You don't understand." Apollo said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You never will."
"I would if you'd just tell me!"
"No. Forget it."
"Fine!"
"I have to find who I am. What I was. I'm afraid, for you and of me." He shook his head. "And everything that's happened from then to now. . . is my fault."
Apollo sighed. "You don't know what it's like." He looked down. "Nor have you seen what it's like to see them in bloodlust, staring them in the eye-- all you see is death, pain and the hellish torture that's about to begin."