[ This chapter contains adult themes and is recommended for mature audiences. Viewer discretion is advised. ]
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Memories flashed before my eyes as a video tape of my 7th birthday played within the dimly lit room, filled with dusted boxes, cobwebs, and worn books.
Tears blurred my vision, slipping over the bruises that marred my skin.
I hid myself in this once terrifying room...
To a place I found the most comfort in.
From beyond the basement door, screams tore through the silence—harsh, desperate, and filled with something far worse than anger.
Despair.
My mother's voice cracked, pleading. My father's roared in reply, each word slurred with fury.
Something shattered.
Then another.
And another.
I curled into myself, pressing my forehead against my knees. The cold floor beneath me did nothing to stop the shivers wracking my body.
How had we ended up here?
How had my father become… this?
My dad, who once blew his birthday candle to wish his daughter - me, a happy life,
Now wished I was never born in this damned world.
A man who once counted every penny, who saved and sacrificed to give me the smallest joys—now threw it all away in a final, reckless gamble.
Not for us.
Not to save our family.
But to prove—to himself, to the world—that he wasn't a failure.
His desperate attempt was after being fired —replaced by the son of the company he's working for.
The very company trying to cling to a broken rope, firing employees as a futile attempt to stay afloat.
And my mother—
My mother, whose hands once braided my hair, whose voice once soothed me to sleep—
Had let another man touch her.
Her eyes, once dull from hardship, flickered to life only when she saw wealth again.
I wanted to believe her betrayal had been for us.
That she had done it to keep food on the table.
To keep us from starving.
But deep down, I knew the truth.
It wasn't just about survival.
It was about desire.
A hunger for the life she had lost.
No matter how desperate I searched for a GOOD reason,
But such an action is unforgivable.
And just as the voices started fade into silence, i heard the do-
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[ *TiRiNg* *rinG* *TiRIrinG* ]
My alarm clock rang.
I groaned, blindly reaching for the snooze button before burying my face into the pillow
"Ughh!! Such a cliffhanger--"
Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I let out a sigh.
"Should I go back to sleep and try to finish that dream?"
Without another thought, I shut my eyes again, hoping to slip back into the strange dream.
[ A few minutes passed. ]
Nothing.
I sat up abruptly, frustration visible across my face.
"Wha– it won't appear again?!"
[.....]
Unease curled in my stomach, a strange hollowness that hadn't been there before.
"That dream though....
It felt soo — REAL.
For a moment, I stayed still, my mind replaying the images that were already starting to blur. The dimly lit room. The dust. The worn-out books. My father's cold, distant expression. My mother's betrayal. The screaming.
I shook my head.
"HahA– It's just a dream... My parents are doing great, and I don't remember that in my birthday..
Pushing away the odd weight in my chest, I jumped out of bed.
Because today wasn't just any day.
It's my 12th birthday.
The moment I reached the kitchen, the smell and aroma filled the air.
Fried chicken.
Crispy, and perfectly seasoned.
My stomach growled.
And I nearly reached for a piece— until I caught myself.
"I should shower first. Then eat."
Dragging myself away from temptation, I hurried to the bathroom, letting the warm water wash away the remnants of my dream.
[ .... Minutes passed. ]
After I showed, I sat down on the breakfast table.
The crunch of fried chicken—it was like I had never tasted fried chicken before.
I devoured every piece as if it were my last.
Letting the warmth of the meal fill me with an odd sense of comfort.
It was just food. Just breakfast.
But for some reason, it felt… special.
Like something I needed.
Like something I had lost and was finally getting back.
[ .... ]
Grabbing my bag ready to head out, my mom approached me with a small smile.
In her hands was a neatly packed lunchbox.
"Here," she said softly.
I peeked inside.
Fried Chicken.
The same meal I had just devoured.
I looked up at her, a flicker of warmth spreading in my chest. She didn't have to do this. But she did.
It was a simple gesture, yet it meant something.
Something that made me feel… safe.
"Thanks, Mom."
After that, I waved her goodbye.
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Before heading to school, I took my usual shortcut through a back alley—
The air was thick with the smell of rotting garbage. Puddles from last night's rain reflected the blue sky above, and broken glass scattered the ground, trying to erase memories.
It wasn't a place most people walked through.
But I always did.
[ And so did ■he. ]
There, tucked against a crumbling brick wall, lay a black-furred cat. But she wasn't the same as I've seen her.
Unlike before, bruises covered her delicate frame, her once sleek coat was now matted with blood and dirt, with deep scratches along her fragile body.
Its smell reeked of blood, with it's ribs pressed painfully against her skin.
Her scent was unmistakable... The scent of pain.
She lifted her head slowly, her eyes dull.
Something I couldn't understand. Recognition? Fear? Hope?
Or was she simply too tired to react?
I took a slow step forward, and she tried to move.
She raised what was once her soft paw.
Now was nothing more than a brittle support for a body too broken to stand.
And yet, she tried.
She tried.
A choked breath escaped my lips as I knelt beside her.
How long had she been like this? How long had she been fighting?
I dug into my bag and pulled out my lunchbox.
I paused.
It didn't feel like enough.
Not for someone who'd been through so much.
Not for someone on the edge of breaking.
But... it was all I had.
With the last bit of warmth I could offer, I tore a piece of fried chicken and placed it gently in front of her.
She didn't move at first.
For a moment, I thought she wouldn't eat —
That maybe she had already given up.
But then, she slowly lowered her head and took a small bite.
Her frail body trembled with each bite, as if every movement drained what little strength she had left.
I forced the lump in my throat down, blinking to clear the sting in my eyes.
[ This isn't even half of reality, but maybe my last bit of kindness can heal her broken soul. ]
Or at least, I wanted to believe that.
I knew deep down —kindness alone couldn't erase suffering.
Yet, it was all I could give.
As the cat weakly ate, I glanced towards the end of the aleyway.
I hadn't just came here for her.
Someone else was waiting for me.
Someone I was supposed to meet.
A FrnEid?
[ A ■■■?■■ of mine. ]
And somehow, that thought left an uneasy feeling in my chest.
A feeling I couldn't quite understand.
Or maybe… a feeling I was trying to ignore.