Hearing gorak's words, Advait truly lost all hope. He sank into despair. Tears streamed silently down his face—not the loud cries from the beating, but a quiet, broken weeping. In his mind, only one thought remained, repeating like a curse: I can't escape this suffering at all… My family will suffer...
Advait slowly tried to stand up after seeing gorak fading figure across the hall. His legs refused to hold him. Pain shot through every muscle, and he collapsed back to the floor.
One of the teachers, a man named Mory, stepped forward. He knelt beside the boy and gently helped him to his feet, supporting his weight as they moved. Mory said nothing—just guided him out of the office and toward the school parking.
Some of the teachers come forward to help, but mory told them that he can manage. They didn't said anything more, quietly watching as mory take the child.
Advait did not thank him. He stayed completely silent. This same teacher had stood frozen while Gorak and his men beat him bloody. Helping him stand now changed nothing. No words of gratitude would come.
Mory understood. He did not expect thanks. He knew Advait was only a child—his thoughts simple, his anger raw and justified. But the boy was suffering now, and Mory could not act against Gorak openly. Fear for his own family kept him silent during the beating. All he could offer was this small help, whatever little it meant.
He walked Advait all the way to school parking, one slow step at a time. He then help advait sat in his own car. Driving advait to his home.
Some time later. When they reached the advait's house door, Mory let go carefully. Advait did not look back, he pushed inside without a word.
The moment he crossed the threshold, hope shattered. The hope that his family was still here, the hope that Gorak had only been giving him empty threats, the hope that his family will not be involved, all of it crumbled in an instant.
The house was wrong. Too quiet. Too still. No sound of his mother calling from the kitchen. No laughter or footsteps from his little brothers. No trace of them at all—only silence and the faint smell of the meal his mother had started earlier, now cold on the stove.
Advait dropped to his knees right there in the doorway. A raw, broken cry tore from his throat. Tears streamed down his face as he pounded the floor with small, bruised fists.
He cursed Gorak. He cursed the chubby boy who had started it all. He let every ounce of frustration, fear, and grief pour out in loud, heaving sobs that echoed through out the dead-quiet house.
No one came to comfort him. No one answered his cries. The house stayed silent, as if it too had been taken away.
When his teacher Mory saw the boy curled on the floor, sobbing and cursing Gorak with raw, broken words, he did not stop him. He simply let the child pour out every drop of frustration and grief. Mory stayed quiet, heart heavy, knowing words would mean nothing now.
He decided to remain for a while. He would cook something simple for the boy, clean his wounds, stay long enough to make sure he was not completely alone tonight.
But before he could move toward the kitchen, the front door burst open. Gorak's men stepped inside. Without a word, one slammed Mory against the wall and drove a fist into his stomach. The other kicked him to the floor.
"Who are you to touch the prey of our boss?" the first man snarled. "You want your family to keep breathing?"
Mory gasped, clutching his side, eyes wide with terror. The men turned their gazes to Advait, who was still on his knees, whispering curses through tears.
The sight of the boy daring to speak ill of Gorak ignited their fury. They descended on him like wolves. Fists and boots rained down until his small body stopped twitching, until no more words or curses could escape his swollen lips—only faint, wheezing breaths.
Satisfied, the men straightened. One pointed at Mory. "Get out. Now. Or your wife and kids get the same welcome."
Mory looked at Advait one last time—the child crumpled, bloodied, eyes empty. His voice cracked. "Forgive me…"
He stood on shaking legs and fled the house, leaving behind only the broken silhouette of a boy on the cold floor.
The men also left the house after that. Waiting for the next entertainment.
The next day, Advait did not go to school. The entire school had shifted to the Eternal Ascendancy, but he still didn't go. He lay exactly where the beating had ended—still in yesterday's uniform, stained with blood and dirt. He had eaten nothing through the night. Sleep had not come. He simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, body numb, mind hollow.
The silence of the empty home wrapped around him like a shroud.
But Advait did not go to the Eternal Ascendancy. He remained curled on the floor of his empty home, unmoving, staring at nothing.
That same afternoon, Gorak's men forced open the door. They found the boy lying where they had left him—still in yesterday's uniform, skin pale, eyes vacant. Without a word, they dragged him up by the arms and hauled him out. They took him straight to the school building in the real world.
Gorak waited in his office. The moment the boy was shoved inside, the beating began again. Each strike landed harder than the last, fueled by the teacher's rage at the boy's absence. "You think you can just disappear?" Gorak snarled between blows. "You belong here. You belong to me." (aya...what have i written....)