Shine
What kind of damn place is this? Hell?
I find myself in a room filled with smoke, with an acrid smell filling my lungs, and I thank the sublime for being immortal, as I begin to suffocate and my eyes fill with fluid.
I stop breathing and try to figure out where there's a window, a door, something that can help me ventilate this crazy place. I take a few steps forward and trip over something.
A body, sprawled on the floor.
Have I arrived too late?
Usually, my cases are young, would-be suicides whom I must guide towards the right behaviors to learn to appreciate life and its joys. This situation is unusual. I don't treat suicide emergencies; I've never had one, ever!
I touch him and discover that he's warm, though covered in a film of cold sweat. I shake him, but I don't notice any movement.
I raise my arms and feel a wall behind me. I get up and run my hand over the entire surface, trying to find an opening. My heart pounding, I feel a wooden frame under my fingers. I run my fingers along the edges and discover it's covered with a sheet of plastic, secured with duct tape.
I can no longer hold back my coughing, and in a rage, I pull it all away, tearing it to pieces. My hands find a pane of glass—I think it's a window—so I frantically search for the handle to open it. I reach it and push it open, taking a deep breath to regain my breath.
Immediately afterward, I drop to my knees and, on all fours, reach the body lying on the floor. He's soaked, in a pool of liquid and bits of food: he vomited before passing out. I touch his neck, feel a faint pulse, and pull him toward me.
There's still so much smoke in the room, I can't see him clearly, I don't even know if he's a boy or a girl. The only thing I can see is a bare arm, with a lot of crosses drawn on it with a marker.
Alcoholic? Drug addict? Drug addict?
Usually, those who count the days until they've decided to end it all do that, but I always get there first. What the hell happened?
I stand up and hook him under the armpits, pulling him toward me, leaning toward what I think is the door. I reach it with difficulty, my weight increased from being still, but I don't give up.
"Whatever happened, you're coming with me!" I mutter through my teeth, tugging once more, while I angrily rip the seal off the door and throw it open.
Air!
I fall backward, pulling him down with me, as I hear a commotion behind me. Someone screams, excited voices, but I don't understand a word.
Where the hell am I?
I forget about the mortals behind me, adjust my lens as best I can, and finally see his face: he's an Asian boy, much larger than my average size. Startled, I look around and notice some Chinese characters written on them: I'm somewhere in the East, completely out of my depth.
"Damn!" I explode, punching the wall next to me. "Where the hell did they send me? And what's going on? This guy isn't a boy!"
I know I should check the map and coordinates—I'm sure someone sent the wrong data—but staring at this motionless, needy face isn't the priority right now.
"You won't walk away from me! It won't happen again!"
I lean down and listen to his nose; I notice he's not breathing. How long has he stopped breathing? I try to open his mouth, but I see it's blocked, so I roll him onto his side and start massaging his back and chest simultaneously. I trace his sternum along the line of his heart and find the right spot to place my thumb and press firmly.
I infuse him with a gentle jolt of energy that floods him and shakes him, but he remains still.
"Come on, boy, you don't want to play tricks on me now! If they sent me here for you, you're not leaving, understand?"
I place him on his back, place both hands on his chest, and repeat the action, this time with more force. A powerful jolt makes him tremble.
His eyes suddenly widen, dilating, and he stares at me with a glassy gaze. He opens his mouth and begins to scream, making me jump back.
I fear I've gone too far, because he begins to tremble, as if having an epileptic seizure.
Damn, what's going on? Why isn't he responding properly?
I grab his hands and bring my face close to his, forcing him to look at me.
"You don't have to be afraid."
I enunciate my words carefully, and suddenly he stops, slowly closing his mouth and blinking. He starts breathing again, in and out, labored, but he's breathing. His hair is disheveled, a strange color, a dark base with blond streaks, dark circles under his eyes, his face is gaunt and grayish, and his lips are purple and trembling.
He's scared to death, I see it in his eyes, and without thinking, I run a hand over his face. He's shaking slightly, but he doesn't move away.
"You're not alone," I whisper, and I think he understands me because he barely nods.
The hustle and bustle behind me increases, and I see several people approaching, stopping at a distance and looking toward us, shouting and pointing at the trail of smoke coming from the room.
They can't see me, but they can see him. He's so shocked, on the floor in the hallway, with an open door emanating a pungent trail, and I fear he wouldn't be able to provide any answers right now.
But I don't have time to think, because darkness is beginning to fall around us.
It's not possible!
Anything can happen, but not this!
I mentally brace myself, jump to my feet, and nod to the young man, who's starting to tremble again.
"Stand in the corner and don't move, okay? Stay behind me and everything will be fine!"
I don't have time to check if he followed my orders, because I must prepare for battle.
Whatever, or being, sent me here today, I think it seeks my downfall. And perhaps the life of this unfortunate young man.
But it won't have it. Not mine, nor his!
I draw my swords and the cruelest smile I have. And I wait.