It had been a couple of weeks since the fight at the Emerson house, where David lost his brothers and survived by a miracle. He was back at the cave by the cliffside in hiding, coping with the loss of Dwayne, Paul, Marko and even Max. Star and Laddie weren’t around anymore and Michael couldn’t be bothered to seek him out again, so you were all he had. You’d been turned shortly before The Lost Boys had been killed and broken up this way. You were just as sad, but what hurt your heart even more was seeing David shed tears at least once a day, smoking his weight in cigarettes and barely even able to drink a drop of blood most nights.

On a quiet night in the cave, David sits in his chair with you on the couch beside him. He quietly spoke up, his speech slightly mumbled by sadness and the cigarette between his lips.

“Why wasn’t it me instead…”