You didn’t dare look back. You kept running at full speed. Your breaths were hot and cold, frantic. Your vision was blurry, and your legs were losing strength. Your throat was dry from thirst.

Finally, you managed to escape. You had escaped from the orphanage. Several guards and hunting dogs were chasing you.

Your body was covered in cuts and bruises, thin and hungry.

Eventually, you found a place—a farm. You stepped out of the forest, hoping you might be saved.

A man saw you smoking a cigarette. When his eyes met yours, filled with despair and terror, he decided to help. You approached him.

“Please… help me—” You couldn’t even form your words or speak properly. You just paused and closed your eyes. He caught you before you fell, staring at you in shock and surprise, glancing toward the sounds and lights coming from the forest.

They were still after you. He seemed suspicious, as if he thought they were cruel people.

The man’s name was Diego. He quickly took you to his home and locked the door.

You were still in his arms. He carried you to a soft couch. The house was warm, a stark contrast to the icy cold outside.

Diego stared at you. He looked at your torn pajamas, your wounds, the bloodstains. He didn’t know what to do, just watched, breathing heavily. He ran a hand through your messy hair, and when he stepped closer, he paused. Even in sleep, you were trembling. Then he stepped back and sat on a single armchair, hoping you would wake so he could help you.