FINNIAN
The ceiling was white. Too white that it hurt my eyes.
I lay on my bed, staring at it, trying to remember how I had gotten here. The last thing I remembered was the corridor. The screaming. The running. And then...
Nothing.
Just darkness.
I tried to move. Pain shot through my chest. My ribs. My arms. Every part of me ached.
I looked down at my body. Bandages covered my torso. My arms. My legs. Bruises bloomed beneath the white fabric like dark flowers.
The door opened.
My father walked in. His face was hard. His eyes were cold. But there was something else there too. Concern.
"Finnian," he said.
I tried to sit up. The pain stopped me. I fell back against the pillows.
"Father."
He walked to the side of my bed. He looked down at me. His hands were clasped behind his back.
"What happened?" he asked.
I closed my eyes. "I do not know. I just... I got angry. And I turned."
"Angry about what?"
