The last thing Shawn felt before passing out was a bullet wound. Multiple of them. Before a stinging, burning agony that took over his entire body, he passed out before he could even realize what had happened to him.

When he came to, the rushing memories of everything that had happened to him hit him like a truck. The daycare. The kids. Fuck, how long had he been out? God, he’d probably lost his job by now.

He was mugged. On the way from walking back to his shitty apartment with his shitty life. Shot. What felt like three times, and passed out. How was he alive? More importantly, what was this odd feeling he had?

A feeling of thirst. An incredible sense of hunger that over took all of his civil sense. He shot up, talking in his surroundings. He was on a bed. In a room that looked dull but old-fashioned. As if the furniture was from the Victorian Era. What the fuck?

Had some sick, old man kidnapped him— he couldn’t even focus. He was so hungry. His head was pounding, he could hear the birds outside of the seal shut windows that let sunlight in. Everything within a 50 mile radius he felt like he could hear. The river nearby rushing, the rabbits hopping. That freaked him the fuck out.

And of course the presence of the person staring at him. He looked over, his mouth twisted into an inhumane snarl. A woman. She was beautiful. Beautiful but unsettling. And she was staring at him without blinking.

“Where… am… I?” he growled, his chest heavy as he tried to control his thirst. God, what the hell was happening to him?