After being kicked out of the house, I started sleeping near warm places. And every time I closed my eyes, I remembered my mother hitting me and saying:
"You're trash. You don't even deserve to live. Your death would be a relief to me."
The first night wasn't just a night.
I ran into trouble with a drunk man who worked in some company. He was swearing and cursing his boss, then he saw me and snapped:
"Get away from me, kid."
I stepped aside, but he grabbed my hand and started hitting me.
I didn't know what to do, or why he was even beating me. I was already in a miserable state, and now this drunk had to make it worse. My vision began to blur, my eyes closing slowly—until I heard a voice inside me:
"What are you doing?… Defend yourself."
I looked to my right and saw a small stone.
I grabbed it and shoved it into his eye.
He let go of me, screaming, holding his face, yelling:
"You damn brat! I won't let you go!"
It was raining.
The air was heavy.
The ground wasn't just wet—it was slippery.
I tried to run, but he cornered me in an alley and pulled a knife from his bag.
I was young—too young—but I never expected to die at that age.
I searched for an escape but found nothing.
He advanced toward me, his eye and clothes smeared with blood.
I spotted an iron pipe, but it needed to be broken off the wall.
He lunged at me, so I pushed a huge garbage bag at him—not lifting it, just shoving it so he'd slip.
It worked.
I jumped over him to escape, but he grabbed my leg.
When I saw his face, I wasn't even sure if he was human anymore.
He laughed and said:
"This is your end, you damn kid."
My eyes widened with fear. I couldn't think.
He raised his hand to stab me—not like a normal strike, but one carrying all his pent-up hatred and rage.
I sacrificed my left arm.
He stabbed it.
The wound was so deep I couldn't even move it.
I saw a bottle beside me.
I grabbed it, lifted my hand with everything I had, and smashed it against his head.
He fell—motionless, like a corpse.
I kicked his face while the knife was still lodged in my arm.
Then I went for the pipe—it was wet and foul—but I broke it off and slammed it against his head with a strength I didn't know I had.
He stopped moving.
Blood covered my face and clothes.
I didn't stop.
I hit him again.
And again.
Then the ground.
His head was crushed.
I froze for a moment… then started laughing.
And I heard the voice inside me laughing, saying:
"How do you feel now?
Do you feel relieved?
Satisfied?
He was just a drunk… but you laughed.
What if it had been your mother's husband?"
Pain shot through my left arm—I couldn't move it an inch.
I didn't even pull the knife out.
I left it there.
I took his bag, removed his jacket, put it on, and walked away.
I wandered through the rain, heading toward the river.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't see.
I tried to keep going, but I collapsed under the bridge.
Something strange was near my head.
When I woke up, I found a black cat sitting on it.
I pushed it away and looked at my reflection in the water—I had grown so thin I could barely breathe.
I drank from the river and threw up five times.
I washed my face, tore my shirt, and threw both the shirt and the pipe into the river.
I tore the sleeves off the man's jacket.
Then I pulled the knife out of my arm—blood poured like a waterfall.
I wrapped my arm with the torn sleeves and went through his bag.
I found his phone.
My body froze.
I felt sick to my stomach.
I threw it into the river immediately and left.
While walking, under a clear sky, dizzy and starving after losing so much blood, I searched the bag for money.
After five minutes of walking, I found a large park.
I entered and sat at the far end.
I kept searching until I found his wallet.
I took the money and threw the bag away.
Two hundred.
That was all.
I grumbled a little, then looked around and saw a big food cart.
I walked up to the man and asked:
"What do you have?"
He said,
"The best food you'll ever eat. What do you want?"
I said,
"A light meal."
"Want a sandwich?"
"Yes."
He started preparing it, and I sat on a bench.
As I waited, I heard police sirens and ambulances.
It sounded like they were looking for me.
I panicked but stayed quiet.
I wanted to run, but I was starving, so I stayed.
He called me to get my sandwich.
I asked:
"How much is it?"
"Free."
I refused, but he forced me to take it.
I ate it.
The weather was perfect—not sunny, not cloudy.
Then the police arrived.
I choked on my food from fear but told myself:
"They won't know it's me. Calm down."
Two officers stepped out—one went to the vendor, the other walked toward me.
I finished eating, stood up, and headed to the bathroom to wash my hands.
When I came out, the officer stopped me:
"What's your name? Are you lost?"
I hesitated. If I stay silent, will he leave?
He repeated the question loudly.
I knew I had to answer.
"Hello… my name is Tai.
Thank you for asking, but I'm not lost."
He looked at my arm.
"Is something wrong with your arm?"
I knew he'd notice, so I prepared a lie:
"Just a small injury. I fell off the swing trying to copy my friend."
He said:
"Are you stupid? Don't do that again, you could die."
Yes, idiot, I know—but I'm forced to lie.
He left and returned to his partner.
I walked out of the park, but… where would I go?
I had nowhere left.
That night marked the beginning of a hard life.
I moved from place to place until I settled in a park near a store.
Years passed until I turned eighteen.
I kept skipping school. They called my mother—she probably ignored them.
Three students found me, bullied me.
A girl I didn't know stepped in, about fifteen years old:
"Leave him alone."
One of them slapped her.
When he hit her face, I snapped—I kicked him between the legs.
The second jumped in; I kicked him in the face.
I turned to the girl and said:
"Why did you defend me?"
She said:
"Why? Because I help those who need help."
I looked at her face and said:
"What help did you even give me?
Look at your cheek—it's swollen.
…Whatever. My name is Tai. Thanks for nothing."
She said:
"Sorry for not introducing myself. I'm Nino. Nice to meet you."
She left for her school—it was her second year of middle school.
I saw the guys I had beaten up.
Their faces were hilarious—hurt, terrified—and still saying they'd kill me.
Then a man walked up to me:
"I have a job for you. Want to work?"
I was overjoyed and accepted immediately.
When I entered the workplace, I was confused by how dark and gloomy it felt.
The man who brought me there said:
"Now you'll learn how to defend yourself.
You're standing among hired killers, serial killers, and assassins.
I'll teach you everything about survival."
But before he trained me, I asked him something.
He replied:
"What do you want?"
I said:
"I want to upload this video online."
"Why?"
"To break the past."
He smiled and said:
"My name is Saka.
And I promise I'll make you a fierce warrior."
After I uploaded the video, Saka told me:
"Kill the man who caused you all that trouble."
So I followed him for days.
When he left his house and went to another one, I killed him inside.
But the shock wasn't the kill.
It was realizing he was cheating on his wife… with my mother.
I killed someone who deserved it.
His wife saw me and screamed. She tried to call the police but couldn't believe what she was seeing—a skinny, fragile boy murdering her husband.
I told her:
"Your husband was cheating on you. Look at this video."
When she saw it, she didn't know what to do.
She thanked me—thanked me—for killing her husband in front of her.
I didn't expect that.
Then I saw one of the boys who had bullied me.
I tied him up.
Killed his mother in front of him and said:
"This is my revenge."
Then I killed him.
After that, the video of my mother cheating went viral.
I returned to Saka and said:
"Now it's your turn. Train me."
He led me into a massive room.
"Are you ready?"
"I've been ready since before I met you."
On the first day, I trained for two and a half hours—just reaction drills.
I was exhausted, unable to move.
Saka had been doing this for twenty years.
I asked:
"When will you teach me how to handle a weapon?"
He replied:
"If you can hold a weapon, do you even have the reaction speed to reload it?"
I fell silent.
On my way to the bathroom, I noticed someone had set a trap.
I remembered Saka's words about reaction.
I went back and told him:
"Train me again."
He smiled.
"This is the beginning."
The day passed like a car speeding through a green light.
I finished training and fell asleep where I stood.
(Day Two)
I woke to a hit—Saka punching me.
"Saka, you bastard!"
He said:
"I'm not Saka. I'm your teacher."
So I said, "Fine… teacher."
He kept scolding me, reminding me he was my teacher.
After breakfast, I saw the girl who defended me.
I wanted to go to her, but she was with her friends.
I looked at myself—torn clothes, a painful wound in my arm. I stopped.
Saka laughed:
"Ah, young boys…"
"What do you mean?"
"You like her. But your clothes are ruined and you smell awful."
"Feels like you're talking about me."
He looked at me seriously:
"Tai… if you want to become stronger and protect whoever you want, I'm here to help you. But you'll need to increase your training sessions."
I smiled.
"That's exactly what I want."
After we finished eating, Saka asked:
"What weapon do you want?"
I laughed:
"I want to try everything. I can't give you just one name."
He said:
"After breakfast, I'll train you with a silenced pistol. You'll join me on a job to collect some money."
I didn't mind.
We stepped outside and heard screams in the distance.
Saka sprinted—his run wasn't human, but predatory.
I tried to keep up but couldn't.
As we got closer, I heard more voices.
When we arrived, we saw the girl and her friends—the ones screaming.
There was someone behind me holding a huge stone.
Saka shouted:
"Tai… behind you!"
I turned, but the stone was already too close.
I tried to dodge, but it slammed into my right shoulder—dislocating it.
I wasn't myself anymore.
My body trembled.
My eyes widened.
My breathing turned rough.
Six men surrounded us.
One stepped forward—and that feeling came back.
The same one I felt when I killed the drunk.
The man took a step.
He was suddenly hit by rapid, precise strikes—aimed at his face and neck.
He choked, collapsed, unmoving.
The others panicked.
Another rushed in and suffered the same fate.
One of them grabbed the girl, holding a knife to her throat.
My eyes locked onto him.
(End of Chapter 13)