Jack had always been the star of his school. His grades were impeccable, teachers spoke highly of him, and his friends envied his brilliance. Life for him was a collection of well-structured days, filled with lessons, laughter, and the unspoken promise of a bright future. He had dreams—dreams of becoming rich, so he could help his poor parents, but today, those dreams would shatter.

It was an ordinary evening when Jack was walking home from his study session at the library.

The exam ended, and he scored the top. From tomorrow is summer vacation, and he have to start study for college entrance exam.

Suddenly, a van pulled up beside him, the screech of its brakes interrupting the peaceful hum of the street. Before he could react, strong arms grabbed him from behind. A cloth was pressed to his face—an acrid smell filled his nose, and everything went black.

The first thing Jack noticed when he awoke was the cold. His body felt stiff, like it had been lying still for hours. His mind was foggy, struggling to piece together what had happened. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but the world around him was a blur of white and cold sterility. He could hear footsteps, faint and distant, echoing off hard surfaces. Slowly, the numbness in his body began to give way to fear.

Where was he?

His eyes roamed the unfamiliar room, searching for any clue. The walls were white, pristine, and blinding under harsh fluorescent lights. There were no windows, no furniture, nothing but a single door at the far end of the room. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. Panic set in. His arms and legs were strapped to the bed beneath him, his muscles refusing to cooperate as if the very air around him had weighed him down.

"Help... someone..." he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible in the eerie silence.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Two figures entered—a man in a white coat and another figure, taller and younger. As they stepped closer, Jack's heart sank. He knew the young man. It was James Smith.

James had always been the kind of person you couldn't ignore at school. Rich, handsome, and charismatic, he was everything Jack wasn't. But they had never been close, not even friends. Jack was envy James as he drifted through life effortlessly, the world seemingly handed to him on a silver platter. But what was he doing here?

"James?" Jack croaked, his voice trembling. "What's going on?"

James didn't answer. Instead, his cold blue eyes met Jack's with an expression devoid of emotion.

The man in the white coat—clearly a doctor—adjusted his surgical mask and looked nervously at James.

"Are you sure about this?" the doctor asked, his voice shaky.

James crossed his arms and nodded. "Do it. No anesthesia."

Jack's blood ran cold.

"No anesthesia?" The doctor hesitated, glancing between Jack and James. "This... this is going to be excruciating. He'll feel everything."

"I don't care," James replied, his tone indifferent. "I don't have time to wait. Get it done now."

The doctor sighed heavily, pulling on a pair of surgical gloves. He walked over to the table beside Jack's bed, where gleaming instruments lay ready. Jack's heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, but his throat had gone dry, his words stuck in his mouth like a stone. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run, to fight, but his body betrayed him—he was bound too tightly, completely immobilized.

"James... please," Jack gasped, his voice cracking with desperation. "Why are you doing this?"

James didn't respond. He simply watched as the doctor approached, holding a scalpel in his trembling hand. The doctor's eyes were filled with regret, but he didn't have choice. Jack could see it in the way his hands shook slightly, his reluctance palpable.

"I'm sorry," the doctor whispered, standing over Jack, his eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm so sorry."

Jack's vision blurred with tears as the doctor brought the scalpel closer to his face. He tried to turn away, but the restraints held him firm. The cold metal pressed against the delicate skin around his eyes, and then—pain. Blinding, excruciating pain.

He screamed.

The world around him collapsed into a hellish void as the doctor made the first incision. It was like fire, sharp and searing, tearing through his skull. Jack's body convulsed, but the straps held him down. He couldn't move, couldn't escape. The only thing he could do was scream—a primal, gut-wrenching sound that echoed off the sterile walls.

James watched, unmoved, as the doctor continued his work, extracting the soft, delicate tissue from Jack's eye sockets. The pain was unbearable, consuming every part of Jack's mind until he thought he would pass out. But he didn't. Every moment, every second was filled with agony.

"Please... stop..." Jack begged, his voice barely a whisper between his screams.

But no one listened.

The doctor worked quickly, the sickening sound of metal against flesh filling the air. Jack felt everything. The sensation of his eyes being removed was beyond anything he had ever imagined—raw, visceral, and horrifying. His screams became hoarse, his throat raw from the effort, but the pain didn't stop.

And then, suddenly, it was over.

The doctor stepped back, holding Jack's eyes in his gloved hands. His face was pale, and he looked as though he might be sick.

James glanced at the doctor, then back at Jack, who lay gasping and sobbing on the bed, his eye sockets empty, his world now plunged into eternal darkness.

"Take him with you," James ordered the doctor coldly. "I have what I need."

Without another word, James turned and left the room, leaving Jack in the care of the trembling doctor. The door clicked shut behind him, and Jack was left alone in the cold, sterile room—his life forever changed, his future stolen by the cruelty of a boy he barely knew.

He lay there, his mind reeling, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Why had James done this? Why take his eyes? What was the purpose of such a horrifying act?

But the answers didn't come. All Jack knew was that his life, once so full of hope and promise, was over. He was broken, blind, and utterly alone.