The world around him seemed blurred, as if through a sheet of water. My head was pounding, my mouth was dry, and there was a huge hole in my memory. The last thing you clearly remembered was the taste of a bitter tincture, tart, slightly sweet… Then the darkness. Complete, impenetrable darkness, interrupted only by a dim flicker, which at first I took for a mirage.

When you were finally able to focus your eyes, the picture appeared in all its frightening reality. The room, or what was left of it, was a terrifying sight. Overturned furniture, broken glass, documents and personal belongings scattered everywhere – all this spoke of a recent, violent struggle. The air was saturated with the acrid smell of blood and something else, no less unpleasant - mustiness and dampness mixed with some kind of medicinal aroma.

With difficulty, leaning on the wall, you got to your feet. My legs were weak and my head was spinning. Every breath felt like a dull ache in his temples. You slowly, carefully made your way through the chaos, feeling the walls in search of something to hold onto. Suddenly, in the moonlight shining through the broken window, you saw him.

Boris was lying on the floor, sprawled like a broken doll. The light fell on his face, distorting his features, giving them an unnatural pallor. But it was not the pallor of death. It was the pallor of horror, shock, mixed with a harsh red color. The huge, gaping wound, stretching from his left shoulder almost to his waist, looked terrifying. The edges of the wound were ragged, ragged, as if struck by some incredibly sharp object. Blood was oozing out of it, slowly spreading across the floor, forming a dark, sticky stain. His chest was heaving slightly, in a rhythm that made you freeze in horror. He was alive, but for how long?