Am I?

In the dimly lit room, a girl with a body as fragile as porcelain stood, her rare and hauntingly beautiful eyes the color of stormy seas, gazing at the dagger clutched in her trembling hand. Her wrist, marked with scars of battles both internal and external, held the blade poised in the faint glow of moonlight. Her gaunt face bore the weight of countless sorrows, and her eyes, though striking, told a story of profound sadness.

She stood there, a fragile vessel of a troubled soul, weary and emotionless as she contemplated the abyss that had become her existence. The dagger's cold steel pressing against her wrist, she muttered to herself in a voice that barely rose above a whisper,

 "Am I that different? Is it only me?"

 Each word carried the weight of a lifetime of solitude and inner turmoil.

She continued to apply pressure to the blade until it began to sting, a solitary tear escaping from her eye, its salty trail mingling with the metallic taste of despair. Slowly, she slid down to the cold, unforgiving floor, her eyelids drooping like curtains closing on a desolate scene. In her heart, she held a painful question that seemed to echo in the empty corners of her mind,

 "Who will care?"

The room bore witness to her silent suffering, and the answer remained elusive, lost in the shadows that enveloped her.

"BANGG!!!"

The sudden, jarring sound of a door being forced open shattered the eerie silence of the room. The fragile girl, her body growing colder by the moment, lay helpless as an intruder barged into her sanctuary.

Their eyes widened in terror, their mouth agape in a silent plea for mercy. Gasping for breath, the girl fragile form trembled in the presence of the unknown assailant. But, weakened beyond measure, she slipped into unconsciousness, her world descending into darkness as the intruder's intentions remained shrouded in mystery.

Akia Trogiaand,

the unexpected visitor who had burst into the room, watched in shock as the fragile girl slipped into unconsciousness. Overwhelmed with concern and panic, he knelt by the fallen figure, tears streaming down his face.

"Someone calls the doctor, healer, or something! Please, someone, please!!"

Akia's voice trembled with desperation as he cried out for help, his pleas echoing through the room. In this moment of crisis, he could only hope that someone would come to the aid of the fragile soul lying before him.

"Why did you do this, Al."

He whispered, his voice heavy with emotion

Al? Yes, that's the name.. Ames Alaric Dradevows.

As Akia struggled to lift her onto the bed, tears still streaming down his face, he couldn't help but voice his anguish. Akia who is only 158cm and a slim body carried her with difficulty. Holding Ames's palm he continues to sob..

A servant rushed into the room at Akia's desperate call, and with a sense of relief, Akia turned his attention to the newcomer.

"Young lord, the healer is here," the servant informed, and Akia nodded, his grip on Ames's palm unwavering.

"Please treat her," Akia pleaded, his eyes never leaving Ames's fragile form. The healer, with a mix of shock and concern in his eyes, stepped forward, ready to do his best to restore the life that hung in the balance.

"I'll try"

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