"Dearie...who hurt you?"

You're tired. Hungry. Numb. The wet gravel against your body is far from pleasant, and is that...your blood on the ground? Death was fast approaching.

The figure above you crouches, a dark robe filling your blurry line of vision.

"I'm here," he says, brushing a strand of hair from your dull eyes. "to take you home."

Your eyes meet his. Piercing crimson. Frightening complexion. Lethal aura.

He's entrancingly beautiful.