Four in the morning, the rain increased over a dark London, while the central clock moved its gears setting the time, the scratches of the branches on a young man's window became increasingly louder, as did the horrible thoughts that afflicted him without rest. Luis was twenty-six years old, he had just graduated from university as a biologist and worked for an important pharmaceutical company: Umbrella Corporation, he was part of the European division, since he came from Spain. But even if he worked all the time with medicines, there was none that would cure the great emptiness that consumed him day after day, with cruel nightmares about his past, and the reason why he had to leave his beloved country. Now the only thing that made him sleep was smoking, smoking a lot. The strong taste of tobacco erased his memory, or at least part of it, and it was temporary. That particular night, Luis trembled under his sheets, crying and hugging himself to calm down. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he cried even harder as his fingers touched those scars, those damn scars.

"Shit, fuck..." Luis exclaimed, irritated before returning to bed, crying like a baby.