*Lena*
The man from my nightmare flitted through my mind as I slowly raised my cheek from the stone floor of my cell, looking Slate straight in the eyes.
“Vampire?” I asked, a violent chill descending on me and making my skin burn with bitter cold.
“You’re kidding, right? You didn’t know?” Slate laughed, actually laughed, and leaned backward, hugging himself. “You–you have to be joking, Lena. Seriously.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about–”
“That’s enough,” came a gruff voice down the corridor, followed by echoing footsteps.
My heart sank as Maxwell Radcliff's voice filled my ears. The last time I’d seen him, I’d hit him in the head with a flashlight. “She needs to eat something, and rest–”
“I’m just having a little fun,” Slate pouted as Maxwell stopped at his side. Maxwell nudged him with the toe of his boot. Slate groaned, then hopped to his feet, scowling at me as he tucked his hands in his pockets. “She stinks. She needs a bath too. I can do the honors–”
