I staggered along, my consciousness blurring more with each step.
The streets were deserted, save for the occasional rush of cars.
It was cold, deep into the night, but my heart felt even colder.
At so point, I couldn't hold on any longer.
I collapsed onto the icy ground, overwheld by exhaustion and the weight of recent days, all amplified by the alcohol in my veins.
I lay there, too weak to stand, the cold pavent beneath .
I kept my eyes wide open, refusing to let sleep take .
I stared up at the starry sky.
I wasn't sure if I would wake up again if I closed my eyes.
How many had drunk themselves to death on streets like these?
Was I going to be one of them?
I fought to keep my eyes open, desperate for one last look at the world, laughing and crying as mories flooded through .
Suddenly, the sound of raucous laughter approached.
As the group ca closer, I saw they were punks with brightly dyed hair.
They showed no pity for my plight, instead exchanging looks of excitent and opportunity.
They squatted down and rifled through my clothes and pockets, flipping over carelessly, searching for anything of value.
They took my wallet, my watch, everything.
When they finally left, all I had left were my clothes and the morial tablet of my parents.
Seeing the morial tablet of my parents, they spat on it, as if to ward off bad luck.
After they were gone, I mustered all my strength to crawl to the discarded morial tablet of my parents and clutched it to my chest.
During the assault, I hadn't resisted; I felt like a soulless shell.
"Heh..." I chuckled, holding the morial tablet of my parents.
By then, my heart was dead, void of sorrow or any emotion.
Just then, a sleek black car pulled up beside .
I couldn't make out the make in my dazed state, but it was clearly a luxury vehicle.
The door opened, and a woman in white stepped out.
I couldn't see her face clearly.
"A saint? An angel? Have you co to save a wretch like ?"
I turned towards the woman, tears streaming down my face as she approached...
As she got closer, even through my haze, I began to make out the features of this "saint."
The wind fluttered her scarf and the hem of her dress, making her seem like she had stepped out of a painting, with a beauty that could topple cities.
Her eyes, a mix of ice and fire, her hair cascading like a waterfall, her white dress purer than snow, and her stunning beauty matched with a cold deanor.
This "saint" looked familiar.
Had I seen a statue of her before?
I could only chuckle weakly, my mind seemingly on the brink of collapse, devoid of any normal emotion.
For a mont, I forgot myself; I ca because I had to.
But please, look up and let see if there's still a trace of the past that hasn't drifted away, like a cloud shedding its raindrops.
Bear with if I've forgotten myself; the roses are still budding, unaware of why we didn't pick flowers this sumr.
The morning star harbors the sa silent anxiety, and the dawn is caught by the branches in front of your window, just like in days gone by.
I've forgotten how tis have changed, so here I am; I don't rember if you turned away when I bared my soul, leaving mortified.
I only rember the hesitant words on your trembling lips, the fleeting passion in your dark eyes, like wings seeking their nest at dusk.
I forgot that you no longer rember , so I ca.
Lastly, because I missed you, I ca; because I didn't want you to be lonely, I ca; because you are here, I ca.
Cold hands touched my face, and it seed like drops of liquid fell on my face.
The hands were cold, the liquid was warm.
Was it raining?
But how could rain be warm?
The woman took off her fur shawl and placed it under .
The shawl still carried a hint of body heat, shielding from the cold ground.
Though the warmth was minimal, for so reason, it ward my heart.
I couldn't clearly see her face, only feeling a sense of familiarity as I struggled to stay conscious, managing to keep my eyes open was already an achievent.
Soon, a noisy commotion approached.
I no longer had the strength to turn my head, only able to roll my eyes toward the source of the noise.
I saw a group of n in black pressing a gang of punks towards us.
"All have been caught, not one missed..."
A man in black stood cautiously beside the woman, bending over and whispering his report.
This woman, watching my pitiful state, her face expressionless, exuded a terrifying aura, her dress moving without wind, her voice low and clear with barely concealed intent to kill:
"No one can harm him in my presence, no— one!"
The punks who touched Justin will have that limb broken.
"Search everything they stole, break the limbs they used on Justin.
If they don't confess, cripple their limbs..."
The woman's eyes stayed on , her face never turning, not even glancing at the punks, just uttering that sentence.
Amid the punks' pleas, they were led away by the n in black, their voices fading until they were inaudible, but soon after, several horrific screams echoed, lasting a long ti.
I had held on for so long, but finally, I couldn't anymore.
Though I forced myself to stay awake, my consciousness slowly blurred, unsure if I was about to sleep, faint, or perhaps even die.
The screams of the punks faded with my consciousness, followed by a sense of relief, as if I was drifting with the wind, free...
When I woke up again, I saw a luxurious crystal chandelier.
I surveyed the room; it was a large, luxurious room, covered with a white down comforter that carried an indescribable fragrance, familiar yet elusive, very pleasant.
This strange environnt made unsure if I was dreaming or awake.
I propped myself up, still weak, leaning against the pillow, rubbing my temples.
As I moved my hand, I noticed a band-aid on the back of it.
I peeled off the band-aid, revealing a faint needle mark.
This needle mark was all too familiar.
My consciousness slowly cleared; this was not a dream, but reality.
Looking at this needle mark, I knew I had been injected in my sleep.
Where am I?
Who saved ?
Why does the woman I saw in my haze seem so familiar?
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