Red eyes.
Red like the blood pouring endlessly from my chest and mouth.
In front of me, long black hair sways in the wind, darker than the night.
Damn it, I'm only sixteen! I'm in the prime of my youth—captain of my city's soccer team, top grades at school, even a few successes with girls.
What more could a guy my age want?
The answer is simple: to live.
I know this path like the back of my hand—I've walked it hundreds of times, every evening after practice.
A dirt road cutting through a small forest, linking the soccer field to my home.
It's just past seven on a freezing December evening and the snow covers the ground in a white blanket.
It snowed until this morning, and if it hadn't stopped, practice would've been canceled.
«I hope it stops soon,» I had thought as I leaned out the window just after waking up.
But now, thinking back… if that damned snowstorm hadn't stopped, maybe I'd still be alive.
But the future isn't something you can predict.
Who could've imagined that a man, seeing me walking alone, would try to rob me? And that when I resisted, the cold blade of his knife would tear open my stomach?
Red eyes—red like blood.
They're fixed on me, almost amused.
Through the shadows, I make out the figure of a girl—or maybe a woman.
She's wrapped in a black fur coat, high heels sinking slightly into the snow.
What is she doing, dressed so elegantly, in the middle of a forest?
And what does she want from me?
My blood seeps into the snow, staining it a vivid red.
The cold locks my body in place—first my feet, then my hands.
Now, even my lips won't respond.
I can't forget the face of the man who did this to me: pale, skeletal, with hollow, empty eyes, and a few messy blond tufts clinging to his skull.
Probably some junkie who didn't even bother covering his face.
It must've been a desperate, sudden act, driven by withdrawal from some drug.
«I'd give anything not to die,» I murmured just moments ago, tears in my eyes, my voice barely a thread.
It wasn't a prayer, not even a plea—just a plain statement.
And like some grim spell, those words summoned that woman, who's done nothing but stare at me since then, standing just a few steps away, making no move to help me.
«Anything?» she asks, her voice deep and sensual, dripping with mockery.
What kind of question is that? As if saying yes could really change anything.
When you're on the verge of death, nothing matters more than your life.
You're willing to believe anything—no matter how absurd—if it means staying alive.
Her words make me think she could save me, but her tone makes it clear she wants something in return.
Whatever she's asking for can't be worth more than what she seems to offer—a second chance.
I must be completely insane to believe she can actually do something...
She seems to enjoy watching me suffer.
I can't understand what's so pleasurable about seeing a sixteen-year-old freeze and bleed out.
I'm getting weaker.
A pool of blood spreads beneath me, her crimson eyes locked on mine.
Her figure blurs as my eyelids grow heavy, ready to close forever.
«Anything…» I whisper faintly, just before darkness swallows me whole.