Sometimes...
I feel like I was born in the wrong place, the wrong time, and among the wrong people.
My name is Rayan Al-Salmi... and this is the past that kept chasing me until the day the stone fell.
Since I was a child, I was the kid who loved questions more than toys.
I was smart-or that's what my mother used to say. I always came home as the first or second in my class, and she would smile with a pride that felt like nothing else in the world.
But all that intelligence... didn't help me at all inside my own home.
My father...
I don't know how to describe him. Maybe the word "father" is too big for him.
He saw me as if I didn't exist. And if he remembered I existed... he remembered me only to shout, scold, or hit me.
I grew up learning how to walk quietly, breathe silently, and stay silent no matter what happened.
My mother, Laila... she was the only thing that made life bearable.
She hugged me every night and told me:
> "You're my son... you're all I have."
And I believed her.
But despite her love... she didn't have the strength to protect me from my father.
I entered primary school carrying a backpack bigger than me, and a small heart full of hope.
But... I had no friends.
No one bullied me back then, but no one came close either.
I was the "weird" quiet kid who didn't talk much.
Still, my life was simple... painful at times, but bearable.
Until middle school.
There... everything started to fall apart.
Imagine everyone who knew you in primary school-everyone you thought was close-entering the same school with you... but suddenly acting like you're a stranger.
They walk past you without saying hello.
They laugh together... and look at you as if you're invisible.
And I was weak, broken from inside the house, making me the perfect target for bullying.
Comments, shoves, hurtful words...
Every day I returned home feeling smaller than the day before.
My father didn't change.
And my mother... grew more exhausted.
I saw her crying silently, wiping her tears quickly whenever I entered the room.
She lived a battle inside her that I understood too well:
Should she stay for the sake of the house?
Or run away for her own safety... and for mine?
Middle school passed...
Then high school.
And I didn't gain a single friend.
Three years of silence, loneliness, fear, and waiting.
But I kept studying.
I used the pain as fuel.
And in the end... I succeeded, and entered a good university.
When I stood in front of my mother on the day I got accepted, I saw the exhaustion in her eyes-a whole lifetime of fear.
And for the first time in my life, I said something I never expected to say:
> "Mom... leave him.
Don't stay with him anymore.
I'm not a child now.
I'll stand on my own... I'll work... just live your life."
That moment was the beginning of real hope.
I started working and studying.
Two years later... my mother finally began to smile again.
Then that day came...
The phone rang.
A strange voice said:
> "Your son... you must come to the hospital immediately."
I walked into the room and saw my mother lying on the bed, broken... both arms broken, both legs broken...
Her face swollen... her features barely recognizable.
The doctor said:
> "These injuries... are not normal.
They are not from a fall.
Someone beat her brutally."
The world collapsed on me.
I left the hospital unable to feel my legs.
Walking in the rain... crying... screaming silently.
> "When will I ever be happy?
What did I do to deserve all this?"
That was the last moment of my normal life.
Minutes later... I saw dogs surrounding the corpse of an unknown man.
And on his chest, I saw a glowing stone...
Something strange... yet familiar... as if it was calling me.
I picked up the stone... and it burst with light.
And from here...
The story I was never prepared for began.