EROS: The Light Project

London, Benthal Green

I opened my eyes wide.
How the heck long had I slept? My right arm quickly slid out of the sheets, searching for my cell phone. I didn't even have the strength to move my head to see where it was.

My fingers fumbled on the bedside table, but they only gathered dust. Finally, I felt something cold and smooth, recognizing it as the phone's screen. I grabbed it with a snap and turned it on. The screen's brightness blinded my eyes, and I saw the main screen displaying the time.

7:55. Damn it. I had ignored the alarm all five times it had gone off.

"Great job, Nathan. You've beaten your own record," I sarcastically congratulated myself in my mind.

The train I planned to catch would arrive in exactly seven minutes. I leaped out of bed like a cricket, my feet still entangled in the sheets. I put on a shirt and a pair of jeans without even showering first. Then I ran into the kitchen, leaving my shirt unbuttoned, and gulped down the cold coffee I had prepared the night before. And when I say "cold coffee," I mean a small cup with an ice cube that would melt overnight.

Part of me had anticipated that I'd be running late, but deep down, I hoped it wouldn't be like this, and I could have the time to make myself a hot coffee with the moka. But my worry had come true, and I found myself drinking a lukewarm concoction that would be an insult to anyone who has ever ground coffee beans in their life. Still, I couldn't help but drink it – my habit of consuming caffeine at least three times a day was ingrained in my system, and without it, I'd be crawling on the floor like a dying camel within minutes.

My cell phone started ringing right after I finished the drink. It was my brother, Giovanni.

"Gio, not a good time," I said.

"But aren't you on the metro?" he asked.

"No, I just woke up! The metro is in three minutes!" I exclaimed irritably.

"But the metro comes every two minutes, right? Even if you miss it…" he tried to console me.

"No, I can't miss it! All the new Italian students like me will be on that one. I need them to know how to navigate the university campus and how to get there!" I explained.

Giovanni sighed, "Ohh, I could shock you with this news, but you know that nowadays there's a way to orient yourself called Google Maps?"

I started pacing around the apartment, trying to put on my shoes with my left hand while answering my brother with my right, "No, no! You don't understand! I need someone to tell me which entrance to take, which classroom to go to, in short… those Italian students are the only ones I can relate to. And if I have to get lost, I'd rather not be alone!"

"But you speak English, right? You can ask passersby for directions, or you could…" Giovanni's voice trailed off.

"Gio, shut up!" I suddenly snapped.

Though his arguments made sense, I needed to catch that train. No ifs or buts about it.

"Okay, sorry… I guess. Call me later, alright? I have to run now; otherwise, I'll miss the train," I said, ending the call before he could say anything else.

I rushed out of my apartment; luckily, my building was right in front of the Bethnal Green Underground station. The sun shone brightly in the sky, making it feel like a summer day despite being September. I was already starting to sweat from the frantic sprint and almost stumbled down the stairs to the subway.

Everything was futile; the train passed right before my eyes, disappearing into the darkness of the Tube.

At that moment, I froze like an ice sculpture. I was left alone. In the underground tunnel, there was only me and no one else. In silence. It wasn't a new sensation for me, not since I moved to London to start studying. However, this time it was different – not melancholic solitude but frustrating. Very frustrating.

A spark of anger suddenly ignited in my chest: damn it! My first day of university had been ruined! And all because of me.

I started stomping my feet on the floor like a madman, launching a series of curses I would never utter in front of others, but now I was alone. Alone. Alone.

In that moment, if I were face-to-face with myself, I would have beaten myself up; I genuinely would have loved to do it.

The cold breeze of the subway suddenly penetrated my shirt and seeped into my bones, halting my outburst. I needed to calm down, or nothing would go right.

My brain felt like it was pulsating in my skull, probably due to exhaustion and stress. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, trying to disconnect while waiting for the next train. I needed to think about something else.

Then I remembered the tragedy for which Bethnal Green station was infamous; my father had told me the story a few days earlier while helping me move into my new home. The stimulus to start the story was the round sign of the underground.

During World War II, Bethnal Green station was used as an air-raid shelter. On the evening of March 1, 1943, an anti-aircraft rocket was launched and exploded, causing a great panic among Londoners, who mistook it for a Nazi bombing. As a result, a large number of people rushed into the Bethnal Green shelter. At that point, a woman stumbled on the stairs, triggering a terrifying domino effect that ended up with over three hundred people crushed to death.

In my mind, I evoked the image of that disaster – the screams, the cries...

And then, almost as if I could hear it with my own ears, a woman moaning and groaning...

I opened my eyes. It definitely wasn't a good exercise to calm myself down; my heart had started pounding in anxiety.

Yet, the moans persisted, softly cutting through the silence. It couldn't be my imagination.

I looked around, as if searching for a ghost. I began sweating again, but this time it wasn't because of the heat; I sensed something terribly dangerous.

There are various defense strategies animals adopt in the face of danger, and my favorite was freezing. Not because I thought it would be effective, but because it was the only thing I could do in moments of terror.

And now my muscles had completely stiffened. I prayed for the train to come as soon as possible to break this nightmare.

The moans and groans kept piercing the silence.

Finally, I found the courage to turn my head enough to spot two figures at the opposite end of the tunnel – a young woman leaning against the wall and a man dressed entirely in black. The man was whispering fierce words to the woman, but I couldn't hear them. I could, however, guess his intentions from the gun firmly gripped in his hand.

Neither of them noticed my presence.

In that moment, all I wanted was to disappear and return to my apartment, forgetting everything I had seen; no one would ever know.

Yet, another part of me was aware that I could stop that man. And it wanted to do it.

The situation was too dangerous to allow me to think calmly, but my choice would have

decisive consequences for my life.

So, I couldn't afford to make a mistake.

Some people say the future is a blank book – we write every page ourselves, and somehow, we are always the ones to decide when to stop writing, leaving someone else to weave the tale in our stead.

I had never believed in this saying until that moment. Because my choice would change everything.