Men Equal Chaos

He was almost eighteen. In about another year or two he would be. He was tall, lanky and pale. The type of pale that happens after centuries of no sunlight. He was beautiful. Fair skin, hair the color of blood, and a personality to die for. Or at least he could be that. His hair was matted with blood that had long since dried. He was filthy. He needed a bath, fresh clean clothes, and sleep. He couldn't remember when he'd last eaten. His skin was deathly pale. He'd lost a lot of blood in the last month.

He was cramped, lying in the tiny cage. It was actually a pet carrier. His Master had shoved him into it earlier that morning. Now he was stuck watching the people that walked by his cage. He'd been abandoned at the corner of an intersection. He couldn't read the street signs from where he was. He judged it to be about mid-day. The sun was overhead and baking the little covered cage. He kept his bare skin away from the metal door. He was thankful for this small shelter. Even though it was hot, at least he wouldn't burn for a few more hours.

He slept most of the time, trying to drown out the ridicule from the passing strangers. The reality that he was going to die kept him awake. His throat had given out hours ago. He'd screamed since the moment he'd woken up and found himself trapped. As the sun came closer, he mustered up the last of his dying voice; screaming for help one last time. His squeaky voice failed completely as his demise began to finally sink in.

It's over. I'm finally going to die. A fine way for me to go out. Locked in a f*cking cage by a hateful Master. Got to admit though, this is a creative way to kill me. God this sucks. I have got to get out of here. Heartless People! Why won't you help me? I swear if I get out of here, every last one of you is dead! Please, please let me out. Some one have mercy on me. I promise if you just let me out, I'll change. I'll stop drinking blood. I won't kill... C'mon! –

He turned over, curling as far away from the cage door as possible. A tiny ray of sunlight grazed his temple. He buried his head in his arms. His arms were covered in long sleeves. He could feel the smothering heat trying to blister his skin against the cloth. He was glad for this one small mercy. His last look on life was about to kill him. It was kind of ironic.