The room was dark. His body ached so much that he could barely move.
He heard the door open... then footsteps fading away. The monster had left.
Breathing was difficult. His mind felt clouded, barely functioning. Slowly, he reached down between his legs — it was wet. When he looked... blood.
Silent tears streamed down his face, and a shiver ran through his entire body. Staggering, he made his way to the bathroom, as he had done since he was ten years old. Now, at nineteen, the ritual of cleaning himself was still part of his existence — erasing the traces of what he wished he could forget.
— I just wish... I were taller... stronger... — he whispered, turning on the shower.
But it was already decided. He had saved enough money to escape. In two days, it would be his high school graduation. And with that, he would finally be free.
The next morning, as if everything were perfectly normal, his mother called him for breakfast. Joshua avoided looking at her. He grabbed a piece of bread and was heading out when he heard:
— You should be more grateful to your "father".
He froze. His entire body tensed. Slowly, he turned to face her — eyes filled with pure hatred.
— Grateful... — his voice came out cold, low. — Grateful... for what he did to me when I was ten? Or... for the blood I had to wipe off my own body... yesterday?
The words sliced like blades.
She knew. She had always known.
Joshua stared at that woman... the one who should have protected him. But she never did. Never even tried.
— It's your fault, — she spat. — It's your fault for being born like this! If it weren't for you... everything would be perfect! I wouldn't be humiliated, forced to compete for MY husband's attention!
She screamed. Screamed as if purging her own demons.
But there was nothing left to say. Joshua turned and walked out.
"Pointless. Talking to her was always pointless."
He ran, focused only on the station. On freedom.
---
Two days later, at last, it was graduation day. His backpack was ready, packed with everything that mattered. Only one thing left — retrieve the money hidden in the park.
When he got there, panic gripped him. The dirt... it was disturbed.
— No... — he muttered, falling to his knees, frantically digging. — No... it can't be...
Nothing. The box was gone.
And then... he felt it. A presence behind him.
— Happy birthday... son. — The raspy voice sent a chill down his spine.
Slowly, he turned. And there he was. His stepfather. Tall. Muscular. Scruffy beard. And in his hand... the old, dirty box.
— Where did you think you were going with all this money? — the man asked, flashing that cynical smile that made Joshua want to vomit.
— Give it back, — the words came out like a blade.
The sky darkened suddenly. Clouds swallowed the blue, and the heavy scent of rain filled the air.
Joshua tightened his grip on the shovel. His knuckles turned white.
— That money is mine. I saved it. Give it back. — His voice trembled... with rage.
The man laughed. Loud. Mocking.
— You belong to me, Joshua. For nine years. NINE years, you've been my property. — He opened the box and threw the money into the air like it was trash. — And your mother? Oh... she knows. She's always known. She's nothing but a replacement.
The fury burned inside Joshua. When the man reached out to grab his arm, his instincts took over.
He positioned the shovel between them.
— You're weak, — the man spat. — You don't have the guts.
It was the last thing he ever said.
Joshua lunged. The tip of the shovel struck the man's leg, sending him crashing to his knees, screaming.
Then came the first blow to his head.
Then the second.
Third.
Fourth.
Joshua lost count. He just felt. He just released.
Nine years. Nine years of pain. Nine years of silence.
When it stopped, the rain was falling hard. The body lay limp, the head disfigured. Blood mixed with the mud.
He threw the shovel aside and ran.
Didn't know where. Just ran.
"I need to vanish. I need to disappear."
Then... the library. The school library. Maybe it was still open.
He sprinted there. Went straight to the bathroom, washed himself, threw away the uniform, and put on his old gray hoodie.
Then, still unfocused, he walked into the library.
Sat down. For a few seconds, he just breathed. Then... he started laughing. A hollow, almost hysterical laugh.
Then came the sob. And then... the tears.
"It's over. I... I'm done. I'm a murderer. And yet... I'd do it again. A thousand times over."
That's when he noticed a light at the end of one of the aisles.
A bluish, pulsing light.
Curious — or maybe just defeated — Joshua stood and walked toward it.
On the floor... a circle. Symbols drawn in glowing light.
He crouched. Reached out.
And the moment his fingers touched it... he felt himself being pulled in.
The world twisted. His body was crushed, dragged, ripped apart. A sharp pain shot through his leg. Another through his arm.
The scream wouldn't come. The pain was too much. He blacked out.
---
When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded.
Feet. Dozens of feet. People whispering in a language he didn't understand.
He shut his eyes again. Pretending to be unconscious.
Then... he heard it:
— Kill him.
His eyes snapped open.
In front of him stood a man. Tall. Dressed in black clothes that radiated authority. A perfectly trimmed beard, wavy hair, and a gaze...
A gaze that seemed to contain entire galaxies. Deep. Black. Infinite.
For a moment, Joshua was paralyzed. Not just by fear... but by the strange, haunting beauty of that man.
"Wherever I am... it's still better than where I came from."