Prolog
The moment we locked eyes on with each other, I struggled to breath.
A man was standing at the end of the alley, I am sitting in. With his tall and dark physique he simply stands out. And is impossible to ignore.
He spotted me and walks towards my miserable shell of a human, sunk down next to trash cans.
Truly handsome. Definitely, I think, still mesmerized by his appearance, which together with his devilish aura, helps me to forget my current predicament. But only for several seconds.
Once again I start coughing, my body shaking uncontrollably. Blood is coming up my throat and I spit it out. Nevertheless the taste of metal still lingers in my mouth. I lean my tired head against the cold wall and close my heavy eyelids.
It hurts. So badly… a sob escapes me against my better judgement, and tears beginn to flow down my pale cheeks.
This man is, no matter how good looking, not the reason for my accelerated breathing. Sadly not. I guess the freaking wound on my stomach is mostly at fault.
Yeah, that sounds more like it.
It takes me everything I have to open my eyes once more. "Help me please", I say, my voice nothing more than a whisper, trembling while I look up at him and meet his ash coloured eyes.
He smirks coldly and comes down the dark and shady alley, I am sitting in. Now he stands right in front of me, but I do not have the strength to look up at him. Not anymore. He gets down on his knees and grips my chin hardly with his right hand. I groan, at the sudden movement. Now I am forced to look at him. At his handsome face, framed by his dark unruly hair.
His grip tightens, as his fingernails cutt into my skin, but it´s nothing in comparison to the pain I am already enduring. I can feel my blood pumping and flowing out, rendering me weaker by every passing second.
The man chuckles deeply, seeing my face filled with pain and fear of what might happen.
´´Why should I help you, dear?´´
His raspy, dark voice echoes in my head. His answer to my plead leaves me cold and numb.
A normal person would probably freak out by now, but all I can do is look down, seeing my own blood stained hands, trying to hoplessly prevent the excessive blood flow.
´´Yeah, why should you. After all it´s my own freaking fault, for being caught up in this mess,´´ I spit out wearily, disgusted by my own mistakes and my damn foolishness.
Slowly but surely I can feel how much the amount of blood loss effects me . I´ve got approxemetly ten minutes. At best. I shudder, hit by the reality I am in. When I look at him once more, I can see the man still smirking down at me.
Fuck. I really wanna whip that shitty smirk off his face.
I grit my teeth together, knowing full well that I can do literaly nothing right now.
´´So...you have nothing more to tell me.´´ It was not a question, but rather a statement. He stands up and smooths his already ironed black suit. The son of a bitch then turns around and leaves me, sitting in this damn alley. Stabbed.
The last thing I see, is his black suit fitting him perfectly. After that my vision smears and the whole world turns black.
Fuck, this weren´t nearly ten minutes, I think, now falling into the darkness.
