Are You Coming Out or Not?

The man rummaged through everything in sight. He could see with only one eye.

Pain shot through his brain, making his movements increasingly frantic. His arm brushed against something, leaving a long gash.

Blood dripped from his elbow onto the clean, gleaming tiles. A woman in red appeared amid the bloodstains.

The drops of blood began to change, as if someone were dipping a pen in blood and writing line after line.

"Your method won't help me find the way to The School. You failed. You lied to me. You can't set me free, and now you've put your own life on the line."

Pain made the man double over. Like a shrimp dropped into a pot of hot oil, he flung everything out of the cabinet, scattering it across the floor.

He shut his eyes and sank into darkness, crashing into the furniture and flailing his hands like a helpless drowning man.

Medicine and medical tools lay scattered across the floor. The bookshelf had been knocked over, and several books about eyes landed by the man's feet.

"The fluid inside my eyeball is leaking out, the wounds along the edges are infected, my optic nerve is atrophying, and I've lost my sense of light. Even my good eye is starting to have problems. It feels like something's squeezing it, and it's getting harder and harder to open!"

The man kept his eyes shut. He was alone in the room, yet he screamed with all his might, as if he were speaking to someone else.

"But don't worry. As long as I'm alive, there's still a chance to change things!"

The eyes were the windows to the soul. When they could no longer open, the world inside grew pitch-black.

Like a wild beast, the man raged against the pain until