We were yet again on our way to Voocrod: our second attempt to reach a town run by a couple thirsty for our blood. Hopefully, no one would slip into a coma that time. We had been driving for hours now. I leaned back in the rear seat of my car, holding a haunting picture. The image contained the smiling faces of the people who had destroyed our biggest happiness one year ago. Anger rushed through my veins. I crumbled the photograph and closed it in my fist. I tightly shut my eyes, demanding ...