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EPILOGUE PART 2: THE PRICE HE PAYS.

TALON

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Nine.

At the age of nine, I ran out of the blood that sustained me. For a year, I struggled silently, unwilling to reveal how deeply it affected me. I tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy without it, but my efforts only led to restlessness, unconsciousness, and sleepless nights. The cold crept in, the bed felt foreign. Who could I confide in? Who would listen to the plea of a vampire boy thrust into a family where he never belonged? The memory of that fateful day still haunts me.

How could I have mercilessly attacked Dirk? I couldn't explain the overwhelming impulse that drove me. The desire to connect with what he possessed consumed me. Did that make me insane? Powerless? A maniac, perhaps. I endured the consequences, tormenting myself night after night.

I yearned to reverse time, but it was an irreversible deed. I had to bear the burden for the rest of my days. I had committed a shameful act, sowing seeds of hatred in the hearts of those who professed to love
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