There was a small child, eight years old, sitting on the cold floor inside his dark room. His name had been forgotten—everyone had stopped calling him long ago. Loneliness? Ah, it had become his closest friend. It didn't speak, didn't complain, just sat beside him in suffocating silence.
The door was locked. As it always was. Not because he didn't have the key, but because he no longer wanted it to open. Behind it, there were soft knocks... Tap-tap-tap, followed by warm whispers.
"Sweetheart... are you okay? Just say something... anything."
It was his mother. Her voice tried to reach him, but it was too weak to pierce the walls he had built around himself. A wooden door? No. This went much deeper than that.
His gaze fell on the paper in his hands, its color faded from how often he held it. On it was a drawing of a cat with snow-white fur, wearing a cowboy hat and a star-shaped badge on its chest. It stood on two legs, with bright blue eyes that gleamed like lightning—eyes that held something... something like his brother's.
"If... if you were here, would you have forgiven me?" the child whispered, running his small fingers over the cat's drawn face.
He imagined it speaking. Smiling at him. Telling him everything would be alright, just like his brother used to do.
He closed his eyes and lay on his bed, pretending to sleep—or perhaps trying to escape into a dream where no one blamed him. The room was dark, but the tears wetting his cheeks were warmer than the shadows.
What had happened to his brother?
They had told him:
"If you hadn't insisted on going..."
"If you hadn't screamed..."
"If only you hadn't distracted him..."
With every word, another lock clicked shut on his door. A lock on his heart.
But he wasn't sure yet... Was he really the cause? Or did the world just always need a small scapegoat... one barely eight years old, with tears that never dried?
Everything was still...
The child lay on his bed, the drawing of the white cat still pressed against his chest—the only ticket to a kinder world.
His eyes were half-closed, his breathing steady, and slowly, sleep began to claim him... No, not sleep. Something clearer than a dream, heavier than imagination.
At first, he saw his older brother. Smiling at him, ruffling his hair, laughing that musical laugh of his.
But then, suddenly—a strange sensation, like falling from a great height.
The image twisted.
The beautiful colors burned away, turning into a dull, crimson glow.
And then... the memory surfaced.
Before he knew it, he was standing in the middle of a grand, luxurious mansion, as if nobles had once lived there. But its beauty was collapsing before his eyes—literally.
Flames. Thick black smoke. Screams overlapping.
The heat was real. So real that his dream-body began to sweat.
And then—a woman.
She stood right in front of him, screaming with a hoarse voice:
"Run!! Run, you—!"
But the rest of her words were lost in the crackling wood and roaring fire.
He couldn't see her face clearly—only her eyes, filled with tears.
His legs moved on their own. He started running, his steps uneven, small and frantic, his heart pounding as if it would burst from his chest.
(What is this place? Why does it feel... familiar?)
As he ran, he heard something else.
Footsteps.
Not one... not two...
Three sets of footsteps chasing him.
Heavy, as if they belonged to people much larger than him.
They got closer.
He could hear their ragged breathing, almost feel their hands reaching for him from behind.
He ran, and ran, and ran...
But the mansion seemed endless. Every hallway led to another, every room burning just like the last. Every scream grew nearer, every breath more suffocating.
(Is... this a dream? Or did I forget something important... something I don't want to remember?)
Just as he began to lose his balance, he tripped—
But before he hit the ground, a soft hand caught him.
Not his mother's hand.
It was the white cat's paw.
"Ah, are you okay?"
The voice was gentle, quiet, like a breeze on a spring morning.
The child slowly opened his eyes, his breath still ragged, his heart pounding from the terrifying chase... but he hadn't fallen. Instead, he had been suspended in the air for a moment, held by a soft grip.
Or rather... a paw covered in white fur.
He looked around.
No fire. No smoke. No screams.
Instead, he stood in a vast field bathed in twilight hues—a violet sky, clouds shimmering like golden cotton, tall trees swaying gently, releasing small lights like floating stars.
But what caught his attention the most...
Was the cat.
Yes, the cat he had drawn.
With its snow-white fur, glowing blue eyes, the same hat, the same coat, even the same badge on its chest.
A strange moment of silence passed.
The cat stared at him, bewildered by how the child had gotten here.
And the child—
Without hesitation, rushed forward and hugged it tightly.
The cat, completely stunned, froze for a moment, not expecting such a sudden gesture.
"H-Huh? W-Wait, what are you doing—?"
Its voice rose slightly, but it didn't push the child away.
After a few seconds, it smiled softly and lifted its arm to return the hug—slowly, carefully, as if afraid of breaking something precious.
"Don't worry..."
The cat whispered softly, lightly patting the child's hair.
"Everything... will be alright."
The child didn't answer, just closed his eyes.
For the first time in so long... he felt safe.