Valeria's voice trembled as she spoke, her words almost hesitant, as though afraid of the storm they might unleash. "My name is Valeria, and you're in a hospital."
The man before her, his body riddled with healing wounds, said nothing at first. His eyes, dark as an endless void, roamed the room, searching for something unseen. His fingers brushed against his chest, his touch lingering as if testing whether he truly existed. Without a word, he swung his legs off the bed and stumbled toward a mirror mounted on the wall.
His reflection met him with cruel indifference. His hands shakily traced the contours of his face, and a guttural sound escaped his throat—a mix of anguish and disbelief. "No..." His voice cracked, then grew into a roar that shook Valeria to her core.
He struck the mirror with his fist, the glass fracturing into jagged shards that reflected his fractured spirit. Blood trickled from his knuckles, but he didn't seem to care.
Valeria froze, unsure of what to say. Her mind raced to make sense of his reaction. Could he have reincarnated? The thought was absurd, yet it clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake. "Is that... your face?" she asked cautiously.
His gaze locked onto hers, cold and unyielding. He didn't answer immediately, but the weight of his stare was enough to suffocate her. Finally, he turned away and sank back onto the bed.
"It's my face. My body," he said, his voice hollow. "But the eyes... they're not mine."
Valeria's breath hitched. "What?"
"My eyes," he continued, bitterness seeping into every word, "were blue. Blue like the ocean. Now..." His voice wavered as he gestured toward his reflection. "Now they're darker than the black hole."
Her lips parted, but no words came out. She couldn't comprehend how something like this was possible. "Maybe it's because of... your resurrection," she offered hesitantly.
Draven turned to her sharply, his brows furrowed in disbelief. "Did I... come back to life?"
She nodded hesitantly, feeling the absurdity of her own words. "I think you did."
A long silence stretched between them. Draven's expression shifted, his bitterness momentarily giving way to contemplation. Then his gaze settled on her, piercing and direct. "Are you the one who saved me?"
Valeria's pulse quickened under his intense scrutiny. She nodded again, unable to meet his eyes.
"Why did you do such a foolish thing?" His voice rose, cutting through her like a blade. "You should have left me to die. Do you have any idea what you've done? You've ruined me completely!"
The venom in his words made her flinch, but she steadied herself. "Humans are meant to help each other when they can," she said, her tone firm despite the ache in her chest. "I couldn't just leave you to die."
Draven's fists clenched, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the bedsheets. But then, as if the weight of his anger had crushed him, his shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you."
The pain in his eyes was unbearable. Valeria's voice softened. "Do you have anyone I can call? Someone who can come for you?"
His face darkened, the light in his eyes extinguished by a tide of grief. "She's dead," he whispered, his voice breaking. "She's gone."
"Your parents?" she asked, though she already dreaded the answer.
"My father..." His voice wavered. "I killed him with my own hands. My mother..." He laughed bitterly, tears spilling down his face. "She couldn't bear it. She took her own life."
Valeria's heart twisted painfully. She reached out but stopped herself, her hand hovering in the space between them. "Do you have any siblings?"
"An older brother," he said faintly, his tone devoid of hope.
Her lips curved into a small smile. "That's good. Should I call him?"
Draven shook his head, a humorless chuckle escaping him. "He hates me. He left and disappeared. I don't even know where he is."
Valeria's throat tightened, tears stinging her eyes. She could hardly fathom the depths of his loneliness. No family. No love. No home.
"They'll come for me when they find out I'm alive," Draven said, his voice trembling with quiet dread. "And they'll kill me again."
Valeria's brows knitted in confusion. "Who's 'they'?"
"My enemies." His voice dropped to a whisper. "They've already taken everything—my house, my accounts. Now I can't even afford to pay this hospital bill."
The hopelessness in his words struck her like a physical blow. "Don't worry about the bill," she said firmly. "I'll take care of it."
Draven looked at her as though the gesture meant nothing. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice devoid of life.
Valeria's resolve wavered. She left the room, feeling the crushing weight of his pain on her shoulders. She paid the bill, her mind racing with thoughts of him. His suffering was like an open wound, and she felt powerless to heal it.
When she returned, she asked gently, "Do you need help settling somewhere?"
Draven's expression hardened, his eyes blazing with fury. "Just leave me alone," he said coldly. "Forget you ever saw me."
His words cut deeper than she'd expected. She opened her mouth to argue, to tell him he couldn't push away the only person willing to help him. But instead, she turned and walked out.
As she made her way to her car, she fought back tears. She'd done her best, hadn't she? And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd failed him.
Driving away, she whispered a prayer, hoping the heavens would guide him to a path of healing.
She looked toward the heavens, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "Please," she whispered, "guide him to a path of healing. Don't let him be consumed by this darkness."
As the words left her lips, she felt an inexplicable weight in her chest, a silent prayer for a man who had lost everything including the will to live.