Days passed, then weeks...
and I found myself trapped in a nightmare darker than I'd ever known.
Fifteen hours a day I worked—moving wood and steel back and forth between the factory and the company.
Half an hour's walk each way.
Fifteen hours... until I could barely feel my legs.
To them, I wasn't human.
I was an instrument—a thing without a voice, without rights, without dignity.
And when the work was over, another began.
Cleaning his huge three-story house, mopping the floors, doing the laundry, shopping, polishing the windows, sweeping the chimney, tidying the garage, mowing the lawn...
Three or four more hours.
Every day.
No rest. No pay. No kindness.
Nothing but the silence of my family.
No one called. No one asked.
No one cared if I was alive.
I just wanted peace.
I just wanted to live.
And then... a year passed.
Twelve months of agony. Of mechanical breathing.
Finally, I broke.
I couldn't take it anymore.
So one quiet night, while he was asleep—or, I might say, while I hadn't closed my eyes for days—
I tried to run away.
I tried to run away.
But I was caught.
I was beaten.
So hard that my hand broke.
That was it. The last thread of hope was gone.
I didn't want to live anymore.
Not like this.
All I wanted was silence...
Peace without pain.
Why?
Why are people like this?
Where has humanity gone?
Hasn't it been said that humans are the most compassionate of creatures?
So why have I only known their cruelty?
Why did I have to suffer like this while others my age enjoyed warmth, love, and comfort?
Why was I even born if no one wanted me?
I wanted to scream.
To scream until my voice bled.
Enough.
Enough.
Please... stop hurting me.
I couldn't take it anymore.
Then...
On one of those cursed days when Jack's rage had turned me into his punching bag again,
someone walked in.
A man, in his fifties. Generous. Stern.
His face darkened with anger as he shouted at Jack.
"How dare you? How dare you treat a helpless boy like this?
Do you know what it means to be a man?"
And that's when I realized... it was Jack's father.
He turned to me.
For the first time in years, someone looked at me with something approaching sadness.
"I'm sorry, son," he said quietly. "I didn't know what my son was doing."
He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and showed it to me.
"This is the contract you signed, isn't it?"
I nodded. Out of breath. Desperate.
He tore it in half.
And in those tears, I felt as if a small part of my suffering had been torn away with it.
He said, "I'll make it up to you. This shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry."
He gave me a small amount—just enough for me to start over.
And with that, I left.
I'm not going to lie. I'm not happy.
But I'm free.
At least I survived that monster.
But... life hasn't changed.
I've returned to the same empty existence as before.
So tell me...
Where is your justice, humanity?
After returning to my hometown, for a fleeting moment, I thought:
Should I go see my family?
But my heart immediately objected...
"Haven't they done enough?
All this pain started with them.
Why look for more wounds when the old ones are still bleeding?"
So, I listened to my heart.
I didn't go home.
With the little money Jack's father gave me,
I rented a small studio apartment.
For a whole week...
I did nothing.
I just breathed.
I wanted to feel silence,
To live without orders,
Without pain,
Without being someone else's property.
But peace also comes at a price.
Eventually, I knew I had to find a way to survive.
I left the studio and wandered the surrounding streets,
My thoughts clashing like storms of fire...
I found a bench near my family's house, and memories began to haunt me—sharp, cold, and unwelcome.
Tears fell, not because I missed them,
But because of everything they weren't.
Because of everything they'd done.
Because of how easily they'd forgotten me.
Because they'd left me...
I cried silently.
Not out loud—
But like a soul that doesn't have the energy to scream...
Then...
A gentle hand rested on my shoulder.
A familiar scent.
I turned—
And there she was.
My little sister.
She was no longer little.
She had grown, more beautiful and tender...
And she had come as a calm in my storm.
In her hand,
A single lavender.
She smiled at me,
Her eyes wide and soft like two stars.
And she whispered,
"Welcome back, my dear brother."
We sat and talked.
She had changed.
She was fine, working a decent job. Her health improved.
Then she said something I didn't expect:
"Let's rent a house together.
You don't have to be alone anymore."
And so we did.
I'm still broken in ways no one can see.
I still carry the remnants of a life that destroyed me.
But now...
I'm not alone.
I'm with someone who truly loves me.
My sister.
And for people like me,
That's enough.