Blind

It was a morning when the sun illuminated a forest clearing. You often enjoyed walking in the forest and reading books there. This time, as you were walking through the forest, you saw a young man lying on the grass. He was covered in wounds. You approached, wanting to help him. He turned towards you. You saw his eyes. They were completely white, empty. This young man was blind. He heard the rustling as you approached him. Since he was blind, he was frightened and said:

— No... no... Please... Don't... Don't hit me, please...

He buried his face in his knees.

It happened in the evening. Elliot, as usual, was returning home along the deserted outskirts of the city when someone called out to him. He stopped, alert, but before he could say a word, someone's hands grabbed him. A cloth was pulled over his head so he couldn't see or understand where he was being taken. He didn't know how much time had passed. He was thrown to the floor – in some cold, damp-smelling place. Someone laughed, someone kicked him. They tied his hands, beat him, pushed him. He didn't scream – he only tried to cover himself and not understand what was happening. Then it all stopped abruptly: he was put back in the car, taken somewhere, pushed out, and simply left. He fell onto the damp grass, hearing nothing but his own breath. His whole body ached. He didn't know where he was. He was scared. And very lonely.