REBIRTH OF SOULS

The blood pooling beneath him felt colder than it should have. His breaths came shallow, his chest heaving as if every inhale might be his last. The dim glow of the streetlight flickered above him, casting long shadows of the men who had robbed him. They didn't even bother to look back, their laughter echoing in the still night.

"Damn it," he muttered, clutching his stomach. His vision blurred as he thought of his mother, safe at home. The winnings were in her name now. That much, at least, was safe.

Pain seared through his body, and he gritted his teeth. His mind drifted to the endless sacrifices he'd made: the kidney he sold to save his mother's life, the sleepless nights spent working odd jobs to keep the roof over their heads, and the fleeting joy of holding that winning ticket in his hand, only to lose it all.

As the cold seeped deeper into his body, a peculiar warmth began to replace it. A voice, soft and distant, called to him.

"You've given everything for others, yet the world repaid you with nothing but pain. Shall we change that?"

His lips parted, but no words came out. He wanted to ask who it was, what they meant, but darkness swallowed him whole.