Matis left the hospital in a wheelchair, his mind still clouded by the shock of waking up.
Fortunately, someone was waiting for him outside: Irell, his longtime neighbor.
It took him a moment to recognize her.
« I'm sorry you had to come get me. »
« No need to apologize. No one understands your situation better than I do. »
Normally, Matis would have forced a small smile to avoid worrying her… but today, his mood was at its lowest.
Sensing the gloom around him, the old woman quietly escorted him home.
Throughout the walk, Irell talked about anything and everything. Matis remained silent, only nodding from time to time.
When they arrived at his door, Irell spoke in a trembling but warm voice:
« Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything. »
Then, after a short pause:
« I also made you a meal. Try it if you get the chance. »
With those words, she handed him a basket and returned home.
But before he could go inside, a dog ran toward him, overjoyed to see its master.
However, Matis's reaction was entirely different. Instinctively, he threw the basket right at the poor animal's head.
At the impact, the dog let out a terrified—almost silent—cry before disappearing into the garden, tail between its legs.
« I'm sorry… I don't know why I did that to you… »
Matis tried to apologize, to make up for what he'd done.
But suddenly, a memory flashed before his eyes.
For a split second, he saw a wolf—its fangs bared, its eyes wild with rage.
His whole body began to tremble uncontrollably.
« I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… »
He repeated those words over and over, as if trying to forgive himself.
---
Four months passed.
Even though he was in better shape, Matis no longer dared to leave his house.
His medical leave had recently ended, but he didn't go back to work. The result: he was fired.
He spent his days staring at the walls, eating only takeout food.
His neighbor, ever faithful, continued to leave meals at his door every day… but Matis let them rot under the sun.
After a month of this lifestyle, his electricity and water were cut off. With no payments made, the company eventually shut everything down.
He turned on his phone and scrolled through his contacts.
He wanted to ask his loved ones for help… but could he really trust them?
That was the question haunting him.
He had no real reason to doubt them. His attacker had been put behind bars, after all.
Then suddenly, someone knocked on the door.
« Matis, you there? It's me, your neighbor. I left today's dinner for you. »
It had been several days since he'd eaten anything.
Driven purely by survival instinct, he opened the door, grabbed the basket… and quickly shut it again.
The basket was filled with healthy dishes, drinks, and even a dessert.
He slowly brought the food to his mouth… and swallowed.
« Delicious. »
It was the only word that came to mind.
From that day on, Matis ate only the food brought by Irell.
And one morning, as Irell set the basket down as usual, the door opened softly.
Matis appeared, a faint smile on his tired face.
As if she hadn't noticed his lack of hygiene, Irell spoke cheerfully:
« You look good today, Matis. »
---
In time, Matis asked her for help—to get his life back on track. To which Irell replied without hesitation:
« No problem. »
From that day on, she took him in. Little by little, she became his unofficial therapist—because hiring a real one was out of the question.
Every morning, Matis would go out to exercise a bit, then search for a job.
Gradually, without even realizing it, a faint light of hope began to glow within him.
« I found a job… It doesn't pay as well as my old one, but it's enough for a single guy like me. »
Irell looked up from her plate, a genuine smile on her lips.
« That's wonderful, Matis. See? Bit by bit, you're getting back on your feet. »
Matis nodded, a little shy but happy.
He stared for a moment at the steam rising from his food before murmuring:
« I never thought I'd be able to… live normally again. »
« You did it, » she said, placing her wrinkled hand over his.
« It's not the past that matters, but the direction you're taking now. »
A brief silence settled between them—peaceful.
Then Irell added playfully:
« But you should think about doing the laundry. You plan on going to work in that old T-shirt? »
Matis let out a small laugh.
« Promise, I'll take care of it. »
That evening, the house felt a little brighter than usual.
Irell stood up gently, collecting the plates with care, her gaze lost in a memory she hadn't fully shared.
Matis thought about asking her more… but stopped himself. He felt that what she'd said carried great weight, and pushing further would only reopen a wound barely healed.
So, in a whisper:
« Thank you… for everything. »
Irell turned and gave him a tender smile.
« Good night, Matis. »
She disappeared down the hallway, leaving behind a comforting silence.
And in that silence, Matis felt his heart grow lighter… as if, for the first time in a long while, the world was once again a livable place.
But just before she went to bed, Matis asked her a question.
« If you don't mind… I'd like to know why you helped me. »
Before the accident, he'd never really taken the time to talk with her, so the question seemed natural.
Irell looked up at the ceiling, lost in a distant memory.
« Let's just say I have an old regret I could never mend. But with you… the dream I once gave up on feels possible again. »
Matis wanted to know more, to ask other questions…
But he stopped himself, thinking it would be rude to pry into a past she wasn't ready to reveal.
---
Today, Matis is finally preparing to return to work after nearly half a year.
To mark the occasion, Irell brewed him a cup of tea—something she usually saved for weekends.
« Thank you. »
As he finished drinking and was about to step out the door, his mind blurred… and then everything went black. He collapsed heavily to the floor.
…
…
« You're awake? »
« Mrs. Irell? »
But when he tried to move, his body refused to obey. His arms and legs were tied to a chair.
« Where are we? »
Irell didn't answer right away. She simply turned on another lamp, revealing the dark corners of the room.
« This place… »
Matis scanned the walls, the ceiling, the smell… There was no doubt. He was in a basement. Not Irell's. His own.
« Can you explain what's going on? »
Irell slowly approached and handed him an old photo. In it, she appeared younger, standing beside a child.
« Do you remember this boy? »
Matis searched his memory, in vain. No face came to mind. So he said the only thing he could.
« I'm sorry… »
« I thought so. »
Without another word, Irell began opening the gas bottles scattered around the room one by one. Then, she set a small timer connected to a lighter.
No genius was needed to understand what was about to happen.
« Wait, Irell! I don't know what I did… Maybe this is a misunderstanding! »
Matis struggled with all his might, the chair creaking beneath the strain. But the ropes were too tight. The more he fought, the deeper they cut into his skin, slowly cutting off his circulation.
He eventually collapsed, gasping, unable to go on.
« He was my grandson… He died in a school bus accident. I failed… not just as a mother, but as a grandmother too… »
Her voice barely trembled, as if she were recounting an old story she'd told herself too many times.
Meanwhile, Matis was losing consciousness. His vision blurred, his thoughts faded from the gas filling the air. He couldn't even make out Irell's words anymore—just a distant, muffled voice, like a dream you can't quite remember.
And the next moment, a spark appeared—right after Irell left the room.
A rush of heat filled the entire space, followed by a violent shockwave.
The explosion was instantaneous, yet Matis felt every fragment of pain tear through his body, down to the deepest part of his cells.
…
…
…
« Hey, wake up! It's time! »
Behind the bars, a prisoner tried to shake his cellmate awake for the big day.
« Vector, I'm talking to you! »
Annoyed by his lack of response, he tried to hit him, as usual. However—
« Let go of my hand! »
Vector grabbed his attacker's forearm and squeezed with all his strength.
But as soon as he opened his eyes, he immediately released his grip.
« What the hell's wrong with you today? »
With a much deeper tone, Vector replied:
« Sorry… I dreamed I was living peacefully with an old lady. »
« Cut the crap with your freaky dreams! »
The prisoner, exasperated, grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
« Your name is Vector! A prisoner of Alzaz! You're here for robbing a store, got it?! »
When he finished yelling, he let go, letting Vector fall heavily to the ground.
« Now listen carefully… I'll go over the escape plan again, but I'm not repeating it a third time. »
But as he unfolded the details, he noticed something strange.
« What the hell are you doing?! »
In front of him, Vector was scratching his neck over and over, as if trying to remove an invisible collar. He kept at it until blood began to drip.
And the worst part was—the look on his face showed no emotion at all.
---
On the ninth underground floor, a semi-transparent figure floated above a capsule where Ren lay deeply asleep.
« So this is where you've been hiding? »
At that same moment, two people appeared.
« Just like I told you, Ren's here… »
« What's going on, Teri? »
The one who asked was Yane, already worried about his roommate's long absence.
« Vagner. »
Teri pulled out his watch and called his superior.
« What is it? »
« Check the cameras on the ninth floor. I want to know if anyone entered before us. »
Without wasting a second, Vagner dropped his usual mocking tone and began reviewing the footage.
« Nothing unusual. No anomalies. Did you notice something? »
Teri could sense a presence. Something—or someone—other than Ren, Yane, and himself. But no matter where he looked, there was no one.
And yet… he could clearly feel eyes watching him.
« Teri? »
After a long silence, Yane finally spoke again.
« Sorry, man… probably just the lack of sleep. Anyway, here's Ren, like you asked. »
« But why did he go back into his capsule? »
« Let's go upstairs. I'll explain on the way. »
« But… »
Still hesitant, Yane was pushed out of the room by Teri, who cast one last look behind him before closing the door.