In a dark room, Juan awakened with a big yawn.
She stretched her limbs. Her head still banged, but there was no artificial light around her. Juan's mind was a mess, a big empty mess where words and meanings lost themselves.
She could not remember what happened. "Grah." Her head pounded, she was with a hangover, or maybe she had not drunk enough.
Hangover or abstinence, none of those options was ideal.
Maybe she has hurt someone. Juan went over her cloak to check if she did, searching for a familiar vial. Its absence proved to her she had used it, probably to the last bit.
'It is fate, then.' Her brain pounded, she felt a vein jump in her forehead, the memories of a bloodied boy and his dying form. Her body was bloodied, coated in blood.
Cold sweat ran down her back, as well as fear of what happened to the boy. The vial was not there, but it was not proof that it worked. She failed? Did she help the boy?
