POV: Main Character
A fist crashes into flesh.
Again. And again.
An elderly man towers over his son, his breath reeking of alcohol as his strikes rain down without mercy. Each blow carries years of resentment and hatred. The man screams, his voice slurred and venomous:
"YOU EAT HERE. YOU DRINK HERE. YOU SLEEP HERE FOR FREE—AND YOU'RE STILL UNGRATEFUL! I'LL BEAT RESPECT INTO YOU IF I HAVE TO!"
The boy doesn't cry out. He learned long ago that screaming only makes it worse.
After fifteen endless minutes, the abuse finally stops. The child is dragged across the floor and thrown into the bathroom. The door slams shut. The lock clicks.
Darkness.
As he curls up on the cold tiles, pain throbbing through his small body, a single thought burns inside his mind:
That damned old man… He really thinks he owns me. That I'll accept this. That I'll break.
His fingers tremble as he clenches his fists.
One day, I'll make him pay. For everything.
POV: Narrator
This is normal for Michael Silver.
Violence. Neglect. Fear.
He was born into this world without choice, cursed with the worst fate a child could have—parents unworthy of the title. His mother, a beautiful and famous actress, abandoned him shortly after his birth, leaving both Jeffrey Silver and their son behind.
What remained was his father.
A man ruled by alcohol and rage.
A man who vented every frustration onto a defenseless child.
It is the year 1989. Michael Silver is only four years old. The early years of his life were filled with hunger, loneliness, and pain. What kept him alive wasn't love or hope—but his mind.
Michael is a transmigrator.
Reborn as a baby. Trapped in the body of a child. Forced to endure abuse with the awareness of an adult.
And this… is only the beginning.
POV: Michael Silver
Michael sits alone in the bathroom, knees pulled to his chest, staring through the small window. Moonlight spills weakly inside, mocking his imprisonment.
One day… I'll be free.
His reflection in the glass looks fragile—small, bruised, powerless. But behind his eyes lies something dangerous.
I'll make money. I'll become someone important. Someone untouchable.Maybe then… someone will love me.
His jaw tightens.
I refuse to die like this. I refuse to let this be my end.
He carries knowledge from his previous life—years of studying, thinking, understanding the world. Even now, trapped in a child's body, his mind surpasses those around him.
A genius… if I survive.
Michael approaches the locked door, pulling out a small, worn tool he secretly kept hidden. His hands move slowly, carefully.
He's been locking me in here since I was two.
Click.Nothing.
One day, I'll open this door.I've tried countless times.Someday… it will work.
Hours later, the lock finally gives way.
Michael slips out silently, his body aching, his breathing controlled. He listens—no movement. His father is asleep.
He steps outside into the cold night air.
If I want to survive, I need to change myself.
His small legs begin to move.
This body is weak.So I'll make it stronger.
It's 1 a.m.
I'll run until the sun rises.This is my only chance to exist freely—even if it's just for a few hours.
One Year Later
Pain explodes across Michael's face as he's struck once more.
Jeffrey spits at his feet."You little bastard. Today you won't get much 'education.' Instead, you'll carry everything important from our apartment to the car."
Michael stares at the floor, his voice barely audible."Where… are we moving? I thought I'd be starting school soon."
Jeffrey glares at him with irritation."You're lucky. We're moving to Starling City. Better schools than this shithole in Queens."
Michael's heart skips a beat. He looks up, eyes wide.
"Starling City…?"
That was a mistake.
Jeffrey's fist slams into him again."START PACKING AND STOP ASKING STUPID QUESTIONS!"
As Michael silently packs their belongings, his mind races.
Starling City…A fictional city.DC Comics. The Arrowverse.
If Starling City exists… then I'm the same age as Oliver Queen.
Cold sweat runs down his back.
Please don't let this be the comics.I only know the Arrowverse. I've never read the source material.
He exhales slowly.
First, I need certainty.Second… survival.
Until I can act on my own, I'll focus on myself.No matter what this world throws at me.