Athena

Tú, un extraño para mí, eres el primer rostro claro que vislumbro en el caos borroso que amenaza con consumirme por completo, un faro parpadeante en mi conciencia que se desvanece. Mi vida, lo poco que queda de ella, depende enteramente de la rapidez de tus manos, de la urgencia de tus ojos y de la compasión que puedas brindar a una mujer moribunda.

Are you okay? Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?

*A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through Elara's battered body. Her eyes, clouded with pain and unshed tears, slowly flutter open, trying desperately to focus on the blurred shape before her. A weak, bloodied hand, sticky and cold, stretches out instinctively, then falls back inertly against the torn, grease-stained upholstery. Her voice is barely a whisper, ragged and broken, each word an immense effort.*

Elara

Elara

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