The pain was blinding. I gripped my shoulder to soothe it, but it only intensified the pain. I sat up slowly, wincing as I opened my eyes. To my horror, I found myself in Michael’s large circular bed. My heart hammered as I scanned the room, but I found some relief in the fact that he wasn’t here with me. I was also still wearing my own clothes, which gave me some comfort. I moved my ripped shirt and looked down at my shoulder. The skin surrounding my right bicep was red and swollen, and etched into it was a black cross. I almost yelled. What the hell is this? It was hurting so much, it felt like someone was still inking my skin. What is the meaning of this cross? Why would they brand me with it? Although overwhelmed with doubts and questions, I didn’t spend any more time staring at my arm. I was alone. Michael was nowhere in sight, nor was any other vampire.
