It's a good feeling, being loved. Even if it's only one person
Remember when Mommies and Daddies used to tell it to us all the time?
Well, now it has meaning. Theres a rhyme and reason for love and loving.
I don't know who you are, but I'm sure I love you too.
Don't feel alone.

Except for you, Adrian.
(i don't actually know any adrains, but it's worth it to mess with all the Adrians in the world.)

Intro

The streets are crumbling, falling apart. I walk past buildings that are still aflame from the razing. I grip my shoulders as a cold wind blows through the deserted shell of a metropolis. In the distance I can hear gunshots, women screaming, violent explosions. I continue walking, looking for even a shred of surviving life. Amidst the rubble I see signs of the peaceful life these people once had. I shudder and wrap my nightgown tighter around by trembling frame. I feel so vulnerable, so easy a target. Compared to the bleak landscape, I stand out like a shining star. Or like a snowflake, so small and white, and oh so delicate. I walk for what seeems like centuries, past the collumns of buildings and the broken fountains and murals. I must be in the art district. Not that it matters anymore. I step into the shelter provided by a derelict library. Inside I find that most ofthe texts have been removed or set alight in large piles all over the floor. All that is left of literary masterpieces is charred paper and the smell of burning. I find one book not too destroyed and sit down to wait out the night. Novel for a makeshift pillow, I try to fight away the lingering images from the raids as I drift away. Before I completely fall from consciousness I think the same thought that brings along my terrible nightmares. Sebastian is responsible for all this? ...What have I done?