Three years had passed. Three long, bitter years since that fateful bus accident. He had survived, but life had been merciless.
Vael lay in his small, dimly lit room, the sterile white walls blurred by the haze of pain. Cancer had hollowed him out, each breath a struggle, each heartbeat a reminder that time was running out. He stared at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded, a weak, tired smile tugging at his lips.
If that little rascal were here… he thought, voice barely a whisper in his own mind. He'd probably be buried in that dumb book again, ignoring me while I'm coughing my lungs out.
The smile faltered. The memory stabbed him deeper than any sickness could. The little laughter, the endless curiosity, the warmth of his brother's presence all of it gone. His chest tightened, and suddenly he couldn't hold it in anymore.
Tears spilled unbidden, hot and relentless, carving tracks down his gaunt face. He choked, gasping as the grief that had been tucked away for three long years finally erupted.
And then knock. Just one. Tentative.
"Shit," he whispered hoarsely, trying to push himself upright despite the weakness.
The knocking grew frantic. Then, the door exploded inward, wood splintering into jagged shards.
Vael's heart leapt into his throat. Three burly men stormed in, faces hard, guns glinting in the dim light. They saw him immediately, moving like predators. Rough hands grabbed him, yanking him from his bed. Pain flared as they caught his hair and pulled him upright.
"Sir," one of them spat, "he's awake."
The head of the gang stepped forward, towering, eyes sharp and cold. He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment.
"Tisk, tisk, tisk," he said, circling Vael like a predator. "Why did you take that loan, Vael, if you knew you couldn't pay?"
Vael swallowed, voice hoarse and weak. "Look… sir… I'm already on my deathbed… only you could give me a quick death."
The silence lasted a heartbeat. Then BAM.
A bullet tore into his leg. Vael screamed, the sound ragged, piercing, filled with agony that made him stumble and fall. The pain was absolute, a fire that consumed him from inside.
The boss didn't flinch. "Men," he ordered coldly. "Stand at the door. No one leaves."
Hours passed. Pain gnawed at Vael relentlessly. His body was riddled with countless bullets, holes tearing through muscle, bone, and flesh. Every scream he wanted to release was swallowed by exhaustion. Even tears were impossible; his body had no strength left. His eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling, wet with blood and grief.
He thought, for the hundredth time, of his brother. That little rascal, laughing, reading his dumb book, alive somewhere in a world that had long abandoned him. A sob formed in his throat, but it was too late for tears. Too late for anything.
The boss leaned down, cold as ice, the shadow of his form stretching over Vael's broken body.
"See you on the other side," he whispered.
BANG.
The world went black.