"I want to die"—that is the favorite phrase uttered by Aslan. It bore him no pity. He lost his mother and father at the age of four. After his mother died, he was left alone until his mother's brother adopted him.
Yet the life he had led was more that of a beast than a human. He had received no warmth from human touch, let alone the feeling of love.
How would a boy who had known no warmth of touch appreciate the feeling of getting to live? Warmth itself was a stranger to him, and as such, all that remained in its place was coldness.
"Had I not told you to clean this junk?!" said a man as he entered the house.
The man before him was none other than the beast called Uncle. He would leave in the morning and return at night, ransacking the house like a feral creature.
And poor Aslan would be the one to bear the brunt of his wrath. Sometimes, the beast would be kind enough not to hit his head, opting instead to use his body as a cigar extinguisher.
Yet, no less, he endured it all. How could he not? Where would he run to?
The thought of escaping such a life was dead to him, just like hope. The only peace he would find was in death. With an uncle like his, the idea of dying was not too far-fetched. Maybe one day, his uncle would hit him hard enough, and then… he would die.
"Go to Mr. Brett's shop and buy me some cigars. If you come back even one minute late, you're sleeping outside tonight," said his uncle while throwing twelve dollars onto the floor where Aslan stood.
"Yes, Uncle," he muttered.
And to the store, he went. The weather was remarkably bad—it was raining so hard. Yet he had no umbrella to bring. His uncle would beat him up if the cigarettes got wet, so the instruction to buy cigars was really just a proclamation: "You will get beaten a lot today, boy," just in a different way.
After a long walk, he reached Mr. Brett's shop.
"Mr. Brett, two cigarette packs, please," he said while holding out the money with his hand.
Mr. Brett glanced at his hand for a moment before asking,
"He hit you again, boy?"
"Yes," he replied, showing no emotion.
"What did I tell you? You should've come to live with me instead rather than suffering like this," said Mr. Brett with a slightly raised voice, perhaps upset with Aslan's refusal of his help.
"He would come and find me anyway. There is no point."
"I have told you. If that's your choice, then it's up to you. But if one day you feel you can't take it anymore, you come and find me."
"Thank you," replied Aslan.
Just before Aslan could pay for the cigarettes, suddenly, a couple of guys walked into the shop.
They were wearing ski masks and were armed with baseball bats.
It was a robbery!
"Give all the cash you got, you ching!"
Mr. Brett lunged at the robber, trying to grab his baseball bat, yet he was thrown beyond the counter.
"You shit dirtbag! You didn't make me afraid one bit!" he shouted from the ground.
"Shit mouth you got there. Perhaps I ought to teach you a lesson," one of the robbers sneered, raising the baseball bat higher than his neck, ready to hit Mr. Brett.
And then, Aslan stepped in between them.
He felt a sharp pain in his head.
"Trying to be a hero, piece of shit?!"
The robber became more violent. He repeatedly struck Aslan in the head with more force than before. The floor became wet with blood, and Aslan was left barely alive on the ground.
"Ah… this is it… finally… peace."
The death Aslan had longed for. The peace. The sweet sense of oblivion was finally his. His suffering would end today.
After that, all turned dark. He closed his eyes, bidding farewell to the life he had always hated—the life he had always wanted to end.
In the pitch-black void, he felt as if eternity welcomed him into its embrace—a silence and peace he had long forgotten existed.
Yet suddenly, he heard a voice in the distance, echoing through the infinite blackness.
"Thou who hast lived yet known little of life, hand in hand with death in spite of living, befall upon you another life until you have understood. Life shall not you set foot in the land of death."
And then, all he saw was light—too bright.
In that light, he gradually felt his body again. And within the blinding glow, a man and a woman's faces appeared before him, smiling at him with warmth.
He… had… been reborn.