He walked down the streets, crossing the pedestrian lane alone, heading to a gym not far from home, about a twenty-minute walk. The air was fresh, lightly cold against his skin, and the distant hum of cars filled the street.
He wore a black T-shirt with a skull in the center, two thin chains hanging from his neck, casual black shorts, and sneakers. Each step on the asphalt echoed slightly, blending with the sounds of the city.
In his ears, a pair of headphones played Pride — the music seemed to fill every corner of his mind, bringing a strange sense of calm and confidence.
"Things aren't that complicated. Lions don't mingle with rats. And that's a fact," he murmured to himself, as if repeating an unquestionable truth.
From the crosswalk, he saw his friend inside the gym, flipping him off. Instinctively, he returned the gesture. A faint smile appeared on his face — a small, shared act of rebellion — just before something completely unexpected happened.
A car appeared at high speed, cutting through the street like lightning, without warning. He had no time to dodge. The impact hit, and the air was ripped from his lungs. He was thrown into the air; the world seemed to freeze in an eternal instant.
There was no pain. Only flashes — fast, fleeting — passing through his mind. His vision slowly spun, capturing the surroundings in fragmented clarity as everything around him darkened.
Is this death? he wondered, his eyelids closing involuntarily.
Was it a dream? He found himself elsewhere, surrounded by blurred images, without clear contours. In them, a woman spoke with concern. He didn't know her — or at least believed he didn't.
Among the fragments of vision, parts of a room appeared: it was large, with tall walls, a small shelf to the side, and in front, a door always open that led into a deep, almost tangible darkness.
Even in these fleeting glimpses, fear coursed through his body. He heard someone calling his name, but he could not answer. It was as if everything moved in fast-forward while he remained trapped in slow motion.
He wanted to respond. He tried. But his voice wouldn't come.
Am I in a vegetative state? — the thought sparked through his mind like a flicker of panic.
Despair ran through his veins, fear cornered him. He thought he would rather die than continue living in such a miserable state.
"Lord, my Father, take me to You… but do not leave me like this, in this state," he murmured, words almost choking him.
The faith that once guided his steps now flowed like a fragile, desperate chain, connecting his heart to his prayers. But the pain returned, coursing through every nerve and muscle, a weight both physical and emotional.
His eyes opened. The pain lasted perhaps three seconds, then vanished, leaving an odd, almost surreal silence.
Now awake, he looked around. It was the same room he had seen in his dreams.
Where am I? he thought, fearful.
Looking at his body, he noticed no pain, but his skin was pale, almost translucent, like someone anemic, although there were no signs of anemia.
What happened to me?
Changes were visible: his body was more robust, with defined muscles on his abdomen, and his legs longer, stronger, firm to the touch.
I was hit by a car… so how? A government test? Some new scientific invention? How long have I been asleep? — the questions piled up in his mind, racing faster than he could process.
He tested the mobility of his arms and legs. Everything worked perfectly, but something still felt incomplete. Something was missing — from his body and from his mind.
What am I missing? My humanity? — the thought emerged without warning, cold and terrifying. It was enough to flood him with deep panic.
Sensations coursed through his body: fear, confusion, despair, curiosity. Each vibrating in his chest, mingling with a physical and mental discomfort, corroding his perception of reality.
Thoughts spread like poison: Am I dead? Reborn? Reincarnated? Am I in another plane?
All these feelings condensed into one: hatred. A hatred that devoured everything around it, rising as a shield against a world that seemed determined to destroy him.
Then came a voice, familiar and soft, breaking through the whirlwind:
— Vampire…
It spoke as if approaching, yet distant, confused, incomplete. Still, Bruno instinctively knew where it came from: behind the dark door.
— Who's there? — he shouted, a mix of fear and anger. — Are you talking to me?
— Of course, silly, the voice replied — direct, cute, almost teasing.
Before he could react, the voice spoke again:
— Don't think too much, Bruno. After becoming a vampire, our emotions become very intense.
— Vampire? Intense emotions? — he thought, thousands of questions crossing his mind at once.
— How do you know my name? — he asked instinctively. — Who is the vampire?
She seemed surprised.
— One question at a time, she said, moving closer. — Vampire? Me, you, Selena, and almost everyone in this castle.
— How do you know my name? — he insisted, a mix of fear and curiosity.
— I know everything about you, she replied, timidly.
Confused, driven by fear and instinct, Bruno looked at the black door from his dreams. It began to creak slowly, a sound that seemed to echo throughout the room.
Creak… Creak… Creak…
— Who am I? Why don't you see for yourself? — the voice said, laughing, teasing, leaving a lingering sense of unease and mystery in the air.
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