I wait for the pain that comes with being shot to death, but it never arrives. Deaf to the powerful ringing in my ears, I jerk my head up. A teenage boy crouches over me, his face contorted as if in an immense amount of pain. His breathing is ragged, wet-sounding, and it's only when I tear my eyes from his handsome face do I notice the gushing wound to the right of his heart.
PERIOD KAIN
