The sound of a slap echoed through the small house.
The boy fell to the floor, his cheek burning, his ears ringing.
Before he could even understand what had happened, another kick struck his side.
"Useless brat!" his father shouted, his voice thick with anger and alcohol.
"You eat my food, live in my house, and still do nothing!"
The boy curled into himself, trying to protect his stomach with his arms. He had learned long ago that fighting back only made things worse.
"Stop! Stop!" a woman's voice cried.
His mother rushed forward and grabbed his father's arm.
"Please, stop! You'll kill him like this!"
Her voice trembled, but she didn't let go. She stood between them, shielding her son with her body.
For a moment, the father glared at her, breathing heavily. His eyes were wild, filled with frustration and desperation.
Then he shoved her aside.
She stumbled but didn't fall.
The boy looked up at her, tears running down his face. She forced a weak smile, as if trying to tell him everything was okay — even though both of them knew it wasn't.
This wasn't the first time.
And it wouldn't be the last.
Later that night, the house was quiet.
The boy sat beside his mother on the floor. A small lamp flickered in the corner, casting long shadows across the walls.
She gently pressed a wet cloth against the bruise on his cheek.
"Does it hurt?" she asked softly.
He shook his head.
It did hurt.
But he didn't want her to worry.
He stayed silent for a moment, staring at the floor.
Then he spoke in a small voice.
"Mom…"
She looked at him.
"One day," he said, "we will go somewhere else."
Her hand froze.
"I don't want to live with him anymore."
The words came out slowly, but they carried years of pain.
His mother's eyes filled with tears. She quickly turned her face away so he wouldn't see.
But he noticed.
He always noticed.
She placed her hand on his head and gently stroked his hair.
"One day," she whispered, "we will."
This had happened many times.
His father was drowning in debt.
He spent most of his money on gambling, chasing luck that never came.
When he lost, he drank.
When he drank, he became violent.
Every day after school, the boy walked home with the same fear in his chest.
Would today be another beating?
Most days, it was.
His father worked at night as a watchman, but the job barely paid enough. The debts kept growing, and so did his anger.
The house felt less like a home…
and more like a prison.
One afternoon, the boy returned from school as usual.
The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky orange and red.
He walked slowly down the familiar street, his school bag hanging from one shoulder.
But something felt wrong.
The street was too quiet.
As he approached his house, he noticed two men standing near the gate.
They were strangers.
One of them held a knife.
The blade was covered in blood.
The boy froze.
His heart began to pound.
The men glanced at him for a brief moment — cold, emotionless — then walked past him without saying a word.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Their footsteps faded into the distance.
The boy stood there, unable to move.
A strange fear crawled up his spine.
Then he smelled it.
Blood.
He slowly pushed the door open.
The hinges creaked.
Inside, the house was silent.
Too silent.
His school bag slipped from his shoulder and fell to the floor.
Thud.
He took one step forward.
Then another.
And then he saw it.
Blood.
It covered the walls.
The floor.
The furniture.
In the middle of the room lay his father's body.
Broken.
Still.
Brutally killed.
The boy's breath caught in his throat.
But then—
He saw movement.
His mother.
She was lying on the floor, her body shaking weakly. A deep cut ran across her neck, blood pouring out onto the ground.
Her eyes found him.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"M… mom!" he screamed.
He ran toward her, dropping to his knees beside her.
"No! No! Mom!"
His hands trembled as he pressed them against her neck, trying to stop the bleeding.
Warm blood soaked through his fingers.
"Stay with me! Please stay with me!"
She looked at him, her eyes filled with pain… and love.
Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
Tears streamed down her face.
The boy pressed harder, desperate, terrified.
"I'll save you! I'll save you!"
Then—
Her head slipped.
For a single second, the world stopped.
And her head fell apart from her body.
The boy stared in horror.
His hands were still holding her.
His mind refused to understand what had just happened.
Silence filled the room.
Then—
A scream tore from his throat.
"MOM!!!"
The sound echoed through the blood-soaked house.
His vision blurred.
His body shook uncontrollably.
The last thing he saw was the lifeless eyes of the person who loved him the most.
Then everything went dark.
He collapsed.
Unconscious.