Chapter 1: Prologue
The alarm's metallic shriek shredded another meaningless morning.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
"Ah, let me sleep a little more," Thiago mumbled into his pillow, a half-asleep plea to an uncaring universe.
Beep. Beep.
"Ahhh!" With a roar of pure frustration, he slammed his palm down on the clock. Plastic cracked. "Fuck!" Now his hand throbbed, sharp and hot, adding fresh anger to the simmering residue of yesterday.
He took three deliberate breaths, pushing the rage back down his throat. Then he shoved the covers aside.
His small bathroom was only two steps from the bed—a necessity in the three-room flat his meager income afforded. His parents were long gone, leaving no inheritance, just this silent, shabby box.
Toothbrush in hand, he stared into the mirror. A slightly above-average seventeen-year-old with messy black hair and sleepy eyes stared back. Obviously. Who else would it be?
He pulled on his work uniform. The wall clock read 6:10.
Shit.
Twenty minutes to get to work. Again.
He rushed out, the door almost swinging shut on its own before he fumbled the lock. The bus ride was always a gamble. Today, luck held—the bus hissed to a stop just as he reached the curb, and traffic was unnaturally light. A short walk later, he stood before the garish glow of McRonalds. 7:00 AM exactly.
He shoved the door open and slipped inside, a phantom avoiding the gaze of his boss. The man was nowhere in sight. Good. Thiago's dislike for him was a cold, constant stone in his gut.
Only two colleagues were in early. Kai, built like a linebacker but stuck here flipping patties, gave a familiar nod. And then there was Megan.
Megan. Perfect figure, mesmerizing deep-blue eyes, silky black hair that seemed to swallow the fluorescent light. Why she worked here instead of on a billboard was one of life's great mysteries. She was also his crush. Today, he'd finally say something.
"Hi, good morning, guys!"
"Yo, good morning, Thiago!"
The workday was a greasy, familiar blur. Time melted under the heat lamps. Before he knew it, the shift was over.
They walked out together into the evening air. Thiago's heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. "Megan, do you have a few seconds?"
Kai, with a smirk that said 'finally,' didn't linger. A true bro, Thiago thought, a flicker of warmth in his chest.
Megan stopped, a curious smile touching her lips. When she was a metre away, he forced the words out. "Ahem. This may come out of the blue, but I've liked you for a long time. Would you like to go out for coffee or something?"
Stunned silence. Her eyes widened. Then, "Yes! I would love to."
"You just said 'Yes'?" Disbelief made his voice crack.
"Yes, I said yes. Hehe." She chuckled, a soft sound at his incredulous expression.
They agreed to meet at the Black Hat Coffee Shop at six. As she walked away in the opposite direction, a giddy, disbelieving buzz filled Thiago's veins. It had actually worked.
His happiness was a delicate, short-lived thing.
At home, he combed through his limited wardrobe—an old but decent pair of jeans, a clean white polo. They fit. He checked the mirror one last time, a ghost of a smile on his face.
He took the bus, arriving a few minutes' walk from the café. The pavement was a river of people flowing home. He spotted Megan through the current of bodies and winked. She saw him, her pace quickening, a smile breaking through.
Then, shouts tore the evening apart.
"Stop the thief!"
"Ahh! He has a knife!"
Thiago's gaze snapped toward the chaos. A man was barreling through the crowd, a panicked, desperate force—and he was headed straight for Megan.
"Megan, look out behind you!"
The screams swallowed his warning. He moved without thought, legs pumping, shoving past startled strangers. She turned, surprise etching her features, just as the thief lunged, a glint of steel in his hand.
Thiago reached her, throwing his weight into a desperate shove that sent her stumbling to safety. His own momentum carried him into the path of the blade.
The world condensed into a single, white-hot point of agony in his chest. The ground rose to meet him. Distant screams echoed as if through water.
"Ahh! Someone's been stabbed!"
"Call an ambulance!"
Why? The thought was a raw, furious tear in his mind. He could have just run. Why try to kill her? Why do we destroy each other for no reason?
A beautiful, tear-streaked face filled his blurring vision. "Are you an angel?"
"No, it's me, Megan! Stay with me, Thiago!"
"Hehe, so it's you Megan. I mistook you for an angel, haha." Blood, warm and coppery, bubbled up his throat with each wet cough.
"Don't talk anymore. Help will be here soon."
He could feel it—the strength leaching from his limbs, a profound cold seeping in from the edges. One last thing. He had to say it. "Cough, cough… even if I die, I will try everything to see you again somehow. If there is an afterlife… The last thing I want to say is… I love you."
"No, you will not die! Hang on! No!"
Darkness surged up, absolute and silent, and swallowed him whole.