Someone once told him to get away from humans. Told him that this land belonged to them and he had to go away and move on. Because if he wouldn't do that, fate would play its game and string its strings, and what was written to happen would change, in the worst direction. He didn't believe that. After all… he was a young handsome human who was born a human, in a human land…

Maybe… if he had believed…

He wouldn't have been here, in this cramped white room, in this soft but moveable bed, his whole body wrapped with wet gauze and his wrist impeded with needles that connected him to hanging vials… with memories he wished he had forgotten and breaths he wished to stop because whenever he breathed through the gauze, his burnt lips would sting.

He had been staring at the ceiling. Never moving his head right or left, just staring blankly, believing that what had been lost would never return if he cared.

Someone was blabbering beside him, things he didn't care about, as if he was trying to find his way to healing his heart, which didn't really need any heal.

"Your burns are permanent. You will have lower stamina than before and you should forget about running or even jogging. Don't strain yourself, some of your knee tendons are affected and you will experience lag," said the doctor, his glasses shining at a little paper in his hand. "Still. Your mind is well and if you attend your regular check-ins you should live a good life. You are in your senior year, right? I encourage you to choose an office-related college. You have a long life before you."

It wasn't easy to listen to doctors, he had already understood all of that, just by trying to use the defective body. But, because the memories flashed again in his mind, he sensed a curious question rising up, a question he had already-since the beginning- knew its answer.

"No one survived?" he asked, his head cracking as he turned at the doctor, he wanted to close his eyes, but, the burn stung whenever his eyelids creased open.

The doctor stayed silent, his shining white glasses moving sidely along with his head. Being a doctor must have been hard for him.

"I'm sorry," said the doctor. "But the little child is fine."

"It's fine," he answered, pushed himself against the pillow to rise up, and as his back rested on the pillow he looked around the room, his eyes half opened until they caught a corner. The monitor that showed his pulse beeped faster showing his fear, but his eyes soon glided half opened, and the sound of the monitor slowly returned normal.

"What are you looking at?" the doctor asked and with a cracking neck he turned at him, his words voicing slowly, stammering at first but clearing as he repeated.

"What's at the corner?"

The doctor looked, "nothing."

"I see," the boy said, sliding slowly on his bed. His head rested on the pillow again, but his pupils restlessly glanced at the corner then back at the doctor.

There wasn't nothing in the corner. the boy saw it clearly. It was hunched but tall, its black and long-sleeved mantle was wide and covered most of its body, except for skeleton hands that held into a sickle taller than him and a face that was similar to a dog's skull with no skin covering the slightest.

And if he wasn't seeing hallucinations, he was sure that what was standing on that corner- even though had no eyeballs- was staring at him, as if he was waiting for everything to be quiet, so he could easily snatch the boy's soul.

The boy looked at the doctor who was observing his movements, and scribbling with a pen.

"Young man, stay positive. I know what you had lost was great, but you have a long life to move on."

The boy didn't care, he also didn't move or say a thing, at least until the doctor sighed, turned at the door, and tried to leave.

The boy was tired, moving his hand wasn't actually easy for him, but when he noticed that he would be alone, his hand flew to grab the doctor's coat, "don't leave."

The doctor turned at him, his eyelids creasing in agony thinking how hard it was for the boy. The boy must have been through a lot, the doctor heard that the boy was indebted and was intending to work to cover the debt his father left them before attempting suicide. Even though the doctor told the boy to stay strong, he knew very well that if he was in the boy's place he wouldn't be able to do much.

The doctor was pitying him and the boy used that. "Stay a little longer, I don't want to be alone, not again."

The doctor froze for a few seconds, but he firmed up his expressions, his eyes tired red but sadness overwhelming him, "I understood, I looked at a previous picture of you. You were well looking and good at sports. You were blessed with a good mind as well. I know, you think that you lost everything. There is no longer a person to look after you… but," the doctor dropped down his arms, the boy noticed how strong he clenched. "But that doesn't mean a black future. You still have a good mind, and you can choose a good career. Looks are something of the past, you should understand that good people aren't judged based on looks. You have a long life in front of you, so use it to mourne, but be sure that after every night there is a light to follow." the doctor burst was loud, he must have been fed up of seeing people die, kidnapped, or slaughtered, especially in a country that was full of terror and robbery. In a country with an unstable government that stole whatever their people had, even their internal security.

The boy's eyes were wide for a second, and his hand slowly loosened its grip.

"I will send a nurse to stay here, I have other patients to tend. hold yourself up, you have a long life before you." said the doctor opening the door

The boy extended his arm, "bu-" the door closed with a snapping sound. The young boy’s hand trembled and slowly dropped, the monitor beside him beeped faster as he looked back at the corner, just to see that the dog-faced person tapped the floor with the base of his sickle and with short steps… approached.

But… I no longer have a long life before me.