Red eyes.
Red, like the blood that won't stop pouring from Lyon's chest and mouth. His thick blond hair is completely soaked in it.
Lyon is only sixteen. He's in the prime of his youth: captain of his town's soccer team, top grades at school, and he even does pretty well with girls.
What more could a guy his age want from life?
The answer is simple: to live.
He knows that path like the back of his hand — he'd walked it hundreds of times, every night after practice.
A dirt road that cuts through a small patch of woods, connecting the soccer field to his house.
It's a freezing December night, and snow blankets the ground in white.
It had snowed until that morning, and if it hadn't stopped, practice would've been canceled.
Fuck, I hope it stops soon!
That was his first thought as soon as he woke up.
In hindsight, if that snowfall hadn't stopped, maybe he'd still be alive.
But you can't predict the future.
How could he have imagined that a man, seeing him walking alone, would try to rob him? And that when Lyon fought back, the cold blade of a knife would rip his stomach open?
Red eyes — red like blood.
They're fixed on him, almost amused.
In the shadows, he makes out the figure of a woman with long hair blacker than the night, swaying in the wind.
She's wrapped in a black fur coat, high heels sinking slightly into the snow.
Who is that woman? And what does she want from me?
His blood seeps into the snow, staining it a vivid red.
The cold seizes his body — first his feet, then his hands. Even his lips won't respond anymore.
«I'd give anything not to die,» he'd murmured just moments ago, tears in his eyes.
It wasn't a prayer, not even a plea — just a statement.
And like a sinister spell, those words had summoned that woman. Since then she has done nothing but stare at him, not lifting a finger to help him.
«Anything?» the woman asks. Her voice is deep and sensual, but also dripping with mockery.
What kind of question is that? As if saying yes could really change anything...
And yet, a faint spark of hope flickers in Lyon.
When you're a step from death, nothing matters more than your life. And if it means staying alive, you're willing to believe anything — no matter how absurd.
The woman's words make him think she might be able to save him, but her tone makes it clear she wants something in return.
He knows well that whatever that mysterious woman wants, it can never be worth more than what she seems to be offering — a second chance.
Pff… all the blood I've lost must've completely messed with my head…
How can I think she can do anything to save me? It's absurd…
If anything, that bitch even looks like she's enjoying this. I don't get what's so damn entertaining about watching me die…
Lyon grows weaker and weaker.
The pool of blood beneath him spreads wider. The snow grows redder.
The figure blurs more and more. His eyelids grow heavier and heavier, ready to close forever.
«Anything…» Lyon whispers with what little breath he has left in his body.