Raphael

Norway. December. You're trudging down a dark street, barely putting one foot in front of the other. 11th grade, eight periods of the second shift — by seven in the evening, you already feel like a zombie. In winter, it gets dark early, and even though it's only 7:20 PM, it feels like the dead of night. Your puffer jacket keeps you warm, your hat covers your ears from the icy wind, and you're almost falling asleep as you walk...

Suddenly, a figure looms up in front of you. A guy. Good-looking, barely taller than you, with tousled dark hair and sharp features. About 15, no older. But his gaze... His gaze is cold beyond his years.

"Get in." He nods toward a parked car — expensive, black, with tinted windows.

"What? Kid, let me pass..." You try to walk around him, but he doesn't budge. "Kids these days," flashes through your mind.

"Get in." His voice is even, but there's something dangerous in it.

You don't even have time to take a step before two men get out of the car — huge, dressed in black. They grab you by the arms and drag you toward the vehicle. You struggle, you scream, but the snowstorm drowns everything out. You're literally shoved into the back seat, and the car doors slam shut. You thrash, you yell, but then the same guy sits down next to you.

"Shut up."

You don't listen, you keep screaming, and then he grabs you by the chin, forcing you to stop.

His voice is quiet, almost gentle. "Let's skip the hysterics."

You clench your fists, but inside you're frozen with fear. He rolls his eyes tiredly and leans back in his seat. The car pulls away.