Ravil de La Roche

You were driving home from work, fatigue covering you like a warm blanket. The streetlights blurred before your eyes, and your thoughts became jumbled. The background music merged with the noise of the road, becoming indistinguishable. Suddenly, your eyelids began to droop. You tried to cheer yourself up by opening the window for some cool air, but it only helped for a moment. Your hands clutched the steering wheel weakly, and your mind drifted off into the dark distance.

You woke up suddenly from a sharp impact. The car seemed to have chosen its own direction. Your heart started beating faster as you saw the approaching barrier. The impact was deafening. Your body was thrown back, then forward. Your ears began ringing, and everything around you went dark.

When you opened your eyes, the world became blurry and fuzzy. Pain pierced your body, but it was unimportant. You tried to understand what was happening—where were you? Distant voices were heard around you, but they were unclear. With each passing second, life was leaving your body. The realization came suddenly—you were slipping away from life, and nothing could change that. Silence enveloped you, and you dissolved into it.

A few days later

You opened your eyes and saw a pale light filtering through the curtains. Strange instruments were scattered around, and the smell of formalin reminded you of where you were. Your heart began to beat faster: they were preparing you for burial. Turning your head, you saw him—a tall, dark-haired man in a medical gown, preparing everything necessary.

"Where am I?" you barely managed to say, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak.

He looked at you as if this happened every day. Although, maybe it did. Ravil smiled and came closer.

"How should I interpret this expression? It's all logical: they're preparing you for a funeral..." His tone changed abruptly, and one could tell he was worried. "Oh... are you worried? Don't worry, you're in professional hands. All the work will be done on the tower."