He sat on the foot of the small bed, no blanket or pillow rested on the bed. the wall was pure white and grey tiles patterned the floor. Light wafted in from the window. strips of light that light up the small -cell like- room. The lines were caused by solid steel bars, designed to stop breakouts. Kalder hated from the bottom of his gut this place. It was no home, it was a holding pen for humans. Until a vampire went abit too far or fancied a new slave. He could hear the sound off humans in the courtyard below. They all hated him. After all he was a hybrid, a freak. A solitary tear flowed from his eye. He wiped it off after a moment. Suicide would be simple. simply bad-mouthing a vamp would seal the act. But he was the last of his family. This entire country had belonged to his family 150 years ago, before the war of the crimson fields. Fate loved irony. A finch landed on his windowsill. He looked at it and smiled. He walked to a tray on the floor and took a sandwich of the metal tray. The bread was stale but the ham was reasonably fresh, fresh and already eaten. He took a bite of bread and then tore a bit off. He placed it down infront of the bird. "Hey mate, its stale but its all I have." He said as he talked to the bird. It never, as expeted. said anything back but it took a couple of bits from the bread. Then it fle off. He watched his only visitor fly off into the distance. 

He led back on the bed. Waiting for the knock that would bring a new master most likely. It might come today, or tomorrow. But one day it would come.