Erain began to be an unwanted child even before becoming one. Erain's parents did not have the means to sustain themselves. One was a small entrepreneur with much ambition and little knowledge—things that do not go well together. The other had no job, for she had not finished elementary school, and had fallen madly in love with the failed entrepreneur.
It did not take long before the father's investments began to collapse, and money became scarcer and scarcer. Then came the arguments. At first, they were whispered disputes in the dead of night. Suddenly, they grew into exasperated shouting matches at the top of their lungs, stirring the curiosity of neighbors who already knew that such a couple would never last.
Soon, the aggressions began. Dissatisfied with his failed financial ventures, Erain's father sank into alcoholism, spending nights out and returning only at dawn. In the mornings, he would be sulking, and if his wife dared utter a word, he would beat her until his anger subsided.
Poor man, his incompetence had turned him into a filthy soul. Erain's mother endured as much as she could, covering the bruises whenever she left the house, ashamed that the neighbors might see them. Every night she asked herself when things had started to go wrong. She didn't even know, they had never been right.
And then came the most important event in the couple's life. Erain's mother was pregnant. Naturally, this should have been a cause for celebration for two married people. Instead, it only brought anger, resentment, and doubt. How could they possibly sustain a child?
The bills would rise, the time demanded by the baby would be overwhelming, nerves of steel would be required. Erain's father even suspected that the baby was not his, just another excuse to beat his wife, who endured in silence. It was a situation with no winners—only losses.
And so, one day, the decision was made: the baby would be aborted. They thought it the best choice. Two broken people were not fit to bring forth life. But they did not want to go to a public hospital. Beyond the shame of being found out, there was also the cost of the procedure.
The parents thought how inconvenient it was that a baby could be such a burden even before being born. They tried alternative ways to end the pregnancy. A clandestine clinic was out of the question too—the rumors spread like wildfire, and neither of them wanted anyone to know. They felt ashamed.
But the unexpected happened. Despite all attempts, the baby did not die. Each day they tried more inhuman ways. One night, in a fit of rage, Erain's father even struck his wife's belly with all his strength.
Yet, the baby survived.
For some mysterious reason, that child clung to life more fiercely than any human being. Unconsciously, he wished to live more than anything. Even if it was not the best choice. With each attempt at abortion, the baby kicked harder inside his mother's belly, as if announcing his defiance against his parents' cowardice.
Even in the face of such resistance, Erain was eventually born—to the despair of his parents. His birth sealed the coffin of their relationship. The fights worsened. And now, the hatred his mother had for her husband fell entirely upon her son.
Erain's father felt only growing rage toward him. They still had enough to eat, but blind hatred made them give only scraps to their son. Erain was a frail baby in body, but his spirit compensated for all. Soon the mistreatment turned fully upon him.
When bathing him, his mother would hold him underwater as long as she could until he struggled. He deserves this for ruining my life, she thought. When venting his anger on his wife, Erain's father would also beat his own baby.
Marks of abuse began to appear on Erain's little body. His parents noticed this was risky, so they focused their attacks on his torso, easier to hide under clothes. Even with constant abuse, malnutrition, and lack of care, Erain never fell ill. His parents could not understand where his energy came from.
Even outside the womb, Erain showed his stubborn will to live.
Still, he cried every day. Babies cry, but Erain cried from constant pain. He cried because he could not understand why he was in such a situation. What had he done to deserve such cruelty? And what more would he have to endure?
And so, Erain continued to grow with a willpower that bordered on divine.
At 1 year old, he taught himself to stand and take his first steps. No loving parents stretched out their arms to support him, to celebrate the little victory.
At 2, he learned to stop crying—because crying made his father angrier, and the pain became worse.
At 3, his back was covered with bruises, cuts made by his mother, cigarette burns from his father. A sight so wretched that it would bring anyone to tears.
At 4, Erain found a stray kitten in the street. Feeling pity, he brought it home and gave it his scraps of food. Naturally, his parents discovered it. Erain watched the cat be killed in front of him as a lesson not to waste food.
The treatment never changed. Every day was a worse hell for Erain, yet he clung to one thought: "I want to keep living."
He never mistreated his parents, never spoke back when he shouldn't, only spoke when allowed. He never left a mess in the house, to avoid punishment. He always cleaned so his mother could rest. He never asked for anything, knowing his father would get angry about having no money. He never had a single birthday.
One day, he saw in a magazine a picture of a child blowing candles on a cake, parents by their side. He tried to read the word "B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y" but the letters tangled on his tongue. Erain cut out the picture and slept holding it, imagining what it would be like to have a birthday just for himself.
Since his parents did not educate him, Erain learned to read out of curiosity from the magazines his mother had. He could not understand why his parents hated him so much, even though he always tried to be a good boy. Despite everything, Erain loved them. Why? He could not explain. They were his parents, and that was enough.
One night, Erain's father came home more deranged than usual. Without reason, he began to beat his wife. Erain tried with all his strength to stop him, but he was just a boy and was easily overpowered. It seemed like just another day, until something inside Erain's mother broke. She had been harboring something dark within herself.
Her husband's violence brought back every regret, every night of pain, hunger, shame, hatred. A monster had been growing inside her. When her husband turned his back, exhausted, she seized a kitchen knife and stabbed him 51 times until he stopped moving. Erain saw everything.
She turned and saw her son cowering in the corner, his little body trembling from head to toe. A pitiful sight. Inexplicably, she looked at him and shed a single tear—until a huge shadowy monster tore its way out of her body, splitting her apart and spilling blood across the room. The terrifying figure writhed above her corpse.
Erain reached out to his fallen mother, tried to call her, but no sound came out. The monster noticed the child, turned its hideous form toward him, and in a voice like a dark ritual said:
"Little child born of shadows, so stubborn you were before death that you brought great sorrow to the body from which I came. I curse you for the rest of your life. You shall be hunted by creatures like me and never truly live."
With a violent strike, it took both bodies away, destroying the house entirely. Erain could do nothing but fall among the furniture and the shattered remains of the home. He lay buried for two whole days until help arrived. Unable to move a muscle, he wondered if this would finally be the day he died.
He could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. He only existed among the ruins. But after two days, Erain felt sunlight on his face, and it awakened him. A firefighter shouted something, but he could not understand. He only felt the warmth of the sun on his skin—like the embrace of a mother, the pat on the back of a father. Things Erain had never known.
The sunlight was so blinding, so beautiful, that Erain could not help but feel moved. Then he understood. He was alive. Erain reached out his hand to the man.
"I want to live."