As Wayne walked down the path to school, his bag bouncing a little on his back, he couldn't help but sigh. His house was the farthest from school, which meant he always had to walk more than anyone else.
Along the way, his eyes caught the sight of a giant building that stood tall with more than eight floors. Its shining glass windows sparkled in the morning sun, and the whole place looked like something out of a movie—clean walls, big gates, and even cars dropping off kids at the entrance.
"That's the best school in our area," Wayne muttered, staring at it for a second. "Of course, that's not my school…"
He looked away and continued walking toward his own school. It wasn't a fancy building like that one, but it was still okay. The walls had some cracks, the paint was a little faded, and the playground was smaller—but it was filled with memories, his teachers, and his friends.
"Wayne!"
"Wayne!"
His friends called out from a corner of the playground, their voices cheerful. Wayne smiled and waved back as he ran to them and sat beside them. Soon, they all got lost in a long and noisy conversation—about toys, superheroes, and the latest cartoon shows.
Of course, the biggest topic was the emotional final episode of Fable Vs Child Emperor, Which they couldn't even see. A few boys even pretended to cry dramatically, wiping fake tears while the others laughed.
Wayne smiled as he joined in the fun. A warm feeling spread in his chest.
"I'm not bad at talking," he thought to himself. "It's just hard when I meet someone new. I don't know what to say, and I get scared I'll sound dumb or awkward. That's all…"
Just then, his blonde-haired friend, Alex, noticed the red marks on Wayne's hand. The skin looked rough and slightly swollen, like something had scraped it.
"What happened to your hand?" Alex asked with concern. "Why is it red like that?"
Wayne paused for a moment. He didn't want to tell the truth. So he lowered his eyes and whispered, "I just… fell from the stairs."
"Ouch! That must've hurt a lot!" Alex said, cringing and shaking his hand like he could feel the pain too.
——
After the last class ended and the bell rang, the kids rushed out, some heading to their buses, some walking toward the gate.
Wayne stood with a small group of his closest friends near the edge of the school playground. The air smelled like dust and chalk.
"Are you sure you're not coming with us today?" one of the boys asked. "We're going to that old tree near the canal. Just for a little while!"
Wayne gave a small, polite smile and shook his head.
"No… If I go, my mom will get really mad. I have to be home before 3 PM. I'm not allowed to go that far anyway."
Alex let out a long sigh and rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah… 'Don't go out for more than one and a half hours.' 'Don't walk more than two hundred meters away from home.' 'Don't go outside after 6 PM.' 'Sleep before 10 PM.' I know your whole schedule by heart!" he said, exaggerating every word.
"You're such a mama's boy," he added, crossing his arms. "It's like living in a cage!"
Alex turned to look at Wayne, expecting a reply.
But Wayne was already gone.
All that remained were their other friends, laughing and patting Alex on the back for talking to the empty air.
------------
Wayne returned home just before 3 PM. Today was his mother's day off from work, so he didn't have to do the usual chores—no washing dishes, no cleaning the floor, and no sweeping the rooms.
Feeling a little relieved, he went straight to his homework. It took him a few hours, and by the time he was done, the sun was already going down and the sky outside was turning orange.
After finishing his work, he switched on the TV and began flipping through the channels, hoping to find a good cartoon to watch.
But suddenly—poof!—the electricity went off.
The room became dark, and the TV screen turned black. Wayne's mouth twitched slightly in annoyance. He wanted to yell or curse at the world, but he just sighed deeply instead.
"Ugh… why now?" he muttered, falling back onto the couch.
But little did he know, this was just the beginning of his bad luck.
His mother's phone rang, and she answered it quickly. Wayne didn't pay much attention at first, until he heard her voice change.
Her tone became annoyed, but there was also a tired smile on her face. "Okay, okay, I'm coming!" she said into the phone and then turned toward Wayne.
"That was Mr. Dantes," she said as if she were telling him it might rain tomorrow. "Your father's gotten drunk again. He fell in the middle of the road and can't even stand up."
Wayne dropped his head and groaned. Of course. Again.
He already knew what she was going to say next.
"We have to bring him home. You're coming with me."
Wayne sighed loudly, his shoulders slumping. "Not again…"
He didn't even bother to argue at first, but then frowned and spoke up, "Can't Mr. Dantes take him home? Or just leave him there? He'll come back in the morning on his own!"
His mother opened her mouth like she was about to yell, but then stopped herself. She took a deep breath and spoke calmly this time, remembering what she did last night.
"Mr. Dantes is not his family. We are. At least he called us. Some people wouldn't even do that," she said with a firm tone, making it clear that there was no room to argue.
------------
After that, they both went to the address Mr. Dantes had given. Thankfully, his father hadn't wandered off. He was lying right where they said he would be, next to a closed shop by the side of the road.
It was already dark. The town's electricity was gone too, so the streets were dim except for a few flickering candles and lanterns in windows. But the moon was full and bright, casting a pale silver light over the road, enough to see where they were walking.
There weren't many people around, so not a lot of attention was drawn to the drunk man lying on the ground.
Wayne's mother walked straight to her husband and lifted him by the shoulder. He was heavy, swaying like a sack of potatoes. Wayne, though small, did his best to hold up the other side to keep his father balanced.
"Waa~, I'm a bird! I'm flying~! Woo!" his father sang in a strange, silly voice, laughing like a fool.
As they tried to carry him back home, he suddenly looked to the side and spotted a woman walking past. With a goofy grin, he stepped toward her and winked.
"Hey, beauty~ wanna come home with me tonight?" he slurred without shame.
His wife's face turned red with anger as she quickly yanked him back.
"Are you serious? Your wife is standing right beside you, you idiot! Or did you forget that too?" she snapped.
Wayne didn't say anything. He just kept looking down at his feet as he walked. His small hands were gripping tightly onto his father's coat, trying not to fall.
He could feel it—people were watching.
Even if no one said anything, he felt their eyes. Some were looking with pity, others with silent judgment. A few probably whispered behind their hands.
Wayne's ears burned. His face was hot. His steps felt heavier than before.
"So embarrassing… Everyone's looking. Why does this always happen to me?" he thought, trying not to cry.
He wished he could just disappear.
------------
On his way home, Wayne just prayed that he didn't bump into any of his friends or anyone he knew.
Unlike him, his friends could freely walk around even during power cuts, and since the electricity was gone today, there was a high chance some of them might be playing outside.
But luckily, he didn't run into anyone. He breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that his reputation was safe—for now.
When he finally reached home, he felt like shouting at his father and scolding him for everything. But of course, he couldn't do that. He wasn't brave enough, and even if he was, his father wouldn't listen.
Still, he knew his mother wouldn't stay silent. She would definitely argue with his father again. But this time, Wayne was on her side. In a strange way, he was actually looking forward to the argument.
But as soon as he stepped inside, his body shivered.
The house was completely dark.
There was no light, not even from a small bulb. A strange silence filled the rooms. Without wasting a second, Wayne rushed to his mother's side. He didn't feel safe in that dark house, not alone.
What happened next was exactly what he expected.
His mother first made his father drink lemon juice to calm him down. She didn't yell right away. She waited for the alcohol in his system to wear off. Only when his father slowly started returning to his senses, she began scolding him.
The argument was loud and full of anger. His mother didn't hold back this time. She shouted everything she had bottled up inside her heart, and for once, his father had no words. He was silent. He couldn't say anything back.
Wayne sat quietly in the corner, watching it all. The room was so heavy with anger and shouting that even dinner was forgotten. Eventually, both of them grew tired and decided to go to sleep.
But as Wayne looked toward his bedroom, he felt a chill.
It was pitch black. The only source of light was a single big candle burning in the corner. Shadows danced across the walls, and the quietness made it feel even scarier.
"Umm… Mother, can I sleep with you?" he asked nervously.
His mother turned back to look at him, surprised. "What happened?"
"Umm… it's so dark in there. I'm scared," Wayne said, his voice low and shaky.
His mother was about to say something comforting, maybe tell him not to be scared, but before she could say anything, his father spoke.
After sitting through hours of scolding, this was his chance to say something back.
"Tch… Are you sure he's my son? He has no courage at all!" his father said with a mocking tone.
Wayne's body tensed up. His fists clenched.
He couldn't hold it in anymore.
"I wish I wasn't your son!" Wayne shouted. "At least I don't get drunk and pass out in the middle of the road!"
His words were sharp, full of pain and anger that had been growing inside for a long time.
But then—SLAP!
His father slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed in the quiet hallway.
Wayne's head turned from the force. A red mark began to appear on his cheek. His eyes welled up with tears, and soon, they started falling down.
"You little shit!" his father shouted. "You're brave enough to talk back to me, but too scared to sleep alone?"
Tears streamed down Wayne's face as he cried out, "Yeah! Hic… All you two ever do is beat me whenever you want! Hic… Then say sorry like it means something! What am I? A punching bag to throw your anger at?"
He cried hard, each word shaking with emotion.
His father glared at him, now angrier than before.
"Oh, so now you want to be brave? Then I'll make you brave!" his father shouted.
He grabbed Wayne's wrist tightly and started dragging him toward somewhere, not caring how much it hurt.
Wayne tried to pull back, but his father's grip was too strong.
His mother quickly realized that things were getting out of hand and rushed behind them.
Wayne's father grabbed his small wrist tightly and dragged him across the hallway with long and fast steps. Wayne stumbled, his little feet barely able to keep up. He looked back with teary eyes, silently begging for his mother to help.
His father stopped in front of the storeroom—a place Wayne had always been scared of. It was always dark, dusty, and full of strange shapes that scared him at night.
Without thinking, his father threw open the heavy door, and with a rough push, shoved Wayne inside. Before he could even scream, the door was about to shut. His mother came running, trying to stop him.
"No! Dear, please, he's just a child! He'll change, he'll be mature soon!" she cried, holding onto the door.
But her husband shoved her away with one arm. "Enough! He's like this because you're too soft. He needs to learn what discipline means!"
With that, he slammed the door shut.
The room turned pitch black. Not even a sliver of moonlight peeked through the small window—it was like the darkness swallowed everything.
Wayne banged his small fists against the door.
BAM!... BAM!... BAM!...
"Please! Please open the door! I'm sorry! I'll be good, I promise! I'll never do it again!"
"Mother! Father! Please! I'm scared! Open the door!"
He screamed until his throat hurt, but no one replied. His cries faded into silence, replaced by the heavy sound of his panicked breathing.
The dark room started playing tricks on his mind. He imagined monsters crawling out from the shadows—creatures with sharp teeth and glowing red eyes. His body shook in fear as he clutched himself tightly and backed into a corner.
He covered his eyes, too scared to look. But even then, he started hearing things—strange sounds all around him. Laughter… crying… growling…
"Wayne! I'll eat you today!"
"I'll chew your flesh and break your bones!"
A deep, terrifying voice echoed in his head. He screamed and tried to hide, shaking.
"No! Please don't eat me! Please!"
Suddenly, he heard another voice—one that felt strangely familiar.
"Haha... I'll kill you, Wayne! It's either kill or get killed!"
It was Fable's voice—his own imaginary friend, now turned into something evil. Fable's footsteps got closer and closer.
Wayne, with trembling hands, grabbed an invisible toy gun from his imagination and raised it. His voice started repeating in a cold, lifeless tone.
"Kill... kill... kill... kill... kill... kill... kill... kill... kill... kill…"
And then... silence.
No more screams. No more banging. Nothing.
Outside, Wayne's mother, heart racing, shoved her husband aside and threw open the door.
There was Wayne—curled up on the floor, unconscious.
She gasped and knelt beside him, shaking with panic but relieved to see he was breathing. "Thank goodness…" she whispered, wiping her tears. "Let him sleep here… I'll wake him up in the morning."
But when morning came and she went to wake him, he didn't respond.
She gently shook him again. "Wayne? Sweetheart? Wake up…"
He didn't move.
Her heart sank. Panic rushed through her veins. She placed a hand on his chest. His heartbeat was still there—but faint. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
She screamed for her husband, who was groaning from a hangover. He rushed in, guilt written all over his face. When he saw Wayne unmoving, the color drained from his face.
Without wasting a second, they carried Wayne to the hospital.
---
At the hospital, after the check-up, the female doctor called both parents into a quiet room. Her face was serious.
"Your son is suffering from something called chronic cerebral hypoxia, Also known as hypoxic encephalopathy," she said in a calm but heavy voice.
They both looked confused, so she continued, explaining slowly.
"It refers to a long-term condition where the brain receives less oxygen than normal, leading to various neurological and psychological symptoms.
She looked at both of them.
"This condition can lead to hallucinations, big mood swings, mental issues… and short-term memory loss."