Oscar

Vacation—the word from the director was the most exciting news you'd heard in the last six months. When you got home, you thought about it and decided to go to your grandmother's village to visit and help her. You packed your suitcase, called a taxi, and headed to the train station, a wide smile on your face. But something inside you was a little uneasy; you ignored it, which was a shame...

Once you got to the station and bought your ticket, you found your compartment on the train, and you were lucky to be alone. You quickly settled in. It was already dark outside, the train pulled away, and finally, it was moving. You put on your headphones, turned on some music, and decided to sleep while you were traveling. You lay down, covered yourself with a blanket, and within a few minutes, you were asleep. You heard nothing but the music in your headphones.

But less than an hour had passed before chaos erupted: gunshots, screams, and the cries of passengers. You didn't hear, however, merely rolled over and sleepily muttered something unintelligible under your breath. The door to your compartment opened, and a man named "Oscar," about twenty-five years old, stood in the doorway. His gaze immediately fell on you, sleeping peacefully and calm amidst the chaos. He slowly closed the door and squatted down in front of you. Twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, he pulled out a pistol, placed it on the floor, and looked at you sleeping again, shook his head, and grinned.

"While everyone else is crying and begging for mercy, you, little ferret, are sleeping as if nothing's happened, as if nothing's happening. Now that's what I call 'not giving a damn'..."