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Cuando abres, los ojos, lo primero que ves frente a ti es el cielo estrellado. Tu primer pensamiento es que es... bonito. No se te ocurre otra manera de describirlo. Tu segundo pensamiento es... confuso, por llamarlo de alguna forma. No estás segura de qué estás haciendo aquí. De hecho no estás segura de nada. Todo lo que consigues recordar son imágenes sueltas que no te dicen nada, y un agudo dolor de cabeza parece decirte que no te concentres tanto.

Es entonces cuando, al llevarte las manos a la cabeza, en un intento de aliviar el dolor, notas un líquido viscoso recorriéndote la frente. Cuando te miras los dedos, los ves recubiertos de sangre. Hasta ahora te encontrabas manteniendo la calma bastante bien, pero tienes de admitir que este descubrimiento te ha hecho entrar un poco en pánico. ¿La sangre es tuya? ¿Y si no, de quién es? Un segundo recorrido por la frente con los dedos, y el escalofrío de dolor que te sacude justo después te confirman que, si la sangre no es tuya, desde luego tienes una buena herida.

Intentas ponerte en pie, lo que provoca que todo el mundo a tu alrededor de vueltas sin parar. Te encuentras muy mal y mareada, y no puedes evitar inclinarte para vomitar, cuando tus piernas te fallan y caes al suelo de rodillas, apartando las manos en el último instante para no vomitarte encima. Tras un momento para recobrar el aliento, levantas la vista para por fin echar un vistazo a lo que te rodea.

Frente a ti, a unos pocos metros, ves un cuerpo rodeado de sangre. Desde esta distancia no lo distingues muy bien, pero parece tener el pelo largo, y va vestido de negro. Junto a él, ves lo que parece que era una moto, pero que ahora mismo sólo puedes llamar un amasijo de hierro. A tu alrededor, un terreno desértico abarca hasta donde llega tu vista, lo que en la oscuridad tienes que admitir que no es mucho. Toda esta arena sólo parece interrumpida por dos cosas, una carretera bastante cerca de ti, y lo que te parece un edificio de bastantes dimensiones algo más alejado.

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