January 2015.
—Did it come back again? —How cruel life is. —I was beaten so much I'd never set foot in the university again. —Maybe he enjoys beating me? —Oh God, I wish I could see this new beating up close today.
Those relentless whispers pushed him further into the high collar of his coat; he tried to be a moving slab of stone, hoping immobility might keep him safe. With hurried, bowed steps he entered the classroom. His whole body felt numb, and with every tiny movement pain coiled through him.
He forced himself into his seat and, as if trying to become invisible, hid from every gaze. He wished he were a drop of water slipping through the cracks between tiles, falling to the ground and vanishing forever.
Even time itself had slipped past him unnoticed, until the noise of his classmates leaving the room pulled him back to reality.
—I see the clown is still laughing.
A tall man sat perched on the desk, his eyes fixed on Dyo's bruised and bewildered face as he spoke. The laughter of three others echoed behind him, sending a faint shiver through Dyo's body.
Despite the fear and panic roaring inside him, he forced his chin up and managed a faint smile. "Hello…"
Before he could finish the word, his head snapped violently to the right. The blow wasn't brutal, but it was enough to rip open the old wound on his lip. The man in yellow—sitting a little ahead of the tall one—pursed his lips and blew on his knuckles.
"Hey, damn it, didn't I tell you if I ever saw that fucked-up smile of yours on that ugly face again, I'd land one on it?"
He swallowed the blood pooling in his mouth and gave a slight shake of his head, hoping not to drag the moment out any further.
"Hey, hey… that was a bit too harsh, don't you think?"
The tall man leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing.
"He knows what to do and what not to do. He just needs a little time… isn't that right?"
Dyo nodded again. One of the three standing men stepped forward—the one in the half-buttoned white shirt that bared his bronzed chest muscles and the strange necklace hanging against his skin. He seized Dyo's jaw and yanked it upward with brutal force.
"I don't recall cutting out your tongue."
The man in yellow, the same one who had struck him moments before, let out a grating, mocking laugh as he moved closer.
"Well… not yet, anyway."
Both of them turned their eyes to the man seated on the desk.
"Boss, should we take him now?"
At those words, a cold wave rushed over Dyo. Wasn't the beating enough? What more did they want from him?
"It's a bit excessive… but we can't exactly leave empty-handed today, can we?"
Before Dyo could even process their words, a chair crashed against his head. Blows rained down from every side, relentless and unending.