POV: Michael Silver
As Michael looks around the apartment, a bitter realization settles in.It isn't much bigger than the old one—but the storage room is larger.
Of course, he thinks coldly.The old man always makes me sleep there. I guess nothing will change.
The room smells of dust and neglect. Thin walls. No window. A place not meant for living—but for hiding what shouldn't be seen.
This is where I belong to him, Michael realizes.For now.
One Week Later
Michael stands alone, attempting to mimic movements he barely remembers from his past life. His fists cut through the air, his stance unstable, his breathing uneven.
"Damn it…" he mutters quietly.Trying to learn martial arts alone after running every night is exhausting.
He wipes sweat from his face, frustration gnawing at him.
I need a real place. A real gym.I've seen a martial arts school nearby while jogging…
His expression darkens.
But old Jeff gets home at 5 p.m.I'll need to train before that.
The Next Day – Noon
Michael stands in front of the apartment door.
It's 12 p.m. I need to be back in four hours—before my old man returns.
This time, he doesn't jog. He walks calmly through the streets. People stare—an unsupervised child wandering alone. Michael ignores them.
Soon, he stops in front of an old-looking building. The lights are on.
He peers inside.
Training hours are always after Jeff gets home…But this looks like boxing.
He clenches his fists.
Not my only choice—but a good start.Still… I can't train here regularly with these hours.
Just as he turns away, a voice calls out behind him.
"Hey, kid. What are you doing here? Where are your parents?"
Michael turns. An older African-American man stands in the doorway, his posture relaxed but eyes sharp.
"I was just checking if I could train here," Michael replies honestly."But the hours don't work. My father wouldn't allow it anyway."
The man smiles faintly.
"You want to train in my club at that age?" "What do you hope to gain from it?"
Michael doesn't hesitate.
"I want to be able to defend myself. My father doesn't care about me—and he wouldn't allow anything that costs him money or effort. If there's something I can do besides feeling sorry for myself… I want to learn boxing."
The man freezes for a moment.
That kind of thinking… at this age?What has this child been through?
He sighs.
"Training without paying is not allowed. And I doubt you have a job."
Before Michael can respond, the man continues.
"But… if it really matters to you—come here at this time every day and clean the equipment. Then you may stay during my own training. I won't teach you. You watch, copy, and endure."
His eyes harden.
"Miss even one day at the start—and I'll personally throw you out."
Michael studies him, then smiles genuinely for the first time in a long while.
The gym isn't big. Cleaning will take less than an hour.That leaves three hours of training.
This chance doesn't come twice.
"Perfect. That's all I need—a chance," Michael says firmly."I won't disappoint you. My name is Michael Silver."
The man opens the door.
"Charlie Brown. Call me Coach Brown."He smirks. "Little Mike—how about you start right now?"
Michael bows his head slightly.
"Thank you, Coach Brown. I'll give it everything I have."
(Author's Note: The training itself will be skipped to avoid slow pacing. Michael's growth will be shown through results.)
Nine Months Later
Mike runs home after another brutal session with Coach Brown. His muscles burn, lungs screaming—but he smiles faintly.
After showering and changing clothes, he notices it again.
I'm fast.Stronger than I should be for my age.
Later that night, after his father finishes what he calls "discipline," Jeffrey speaks casually:
"Tomorrow's your first day of school. I'll take you once. After that, you take the bus. You make your own food—as usual. And you know what happens if you tell anyone what goes on at home."
Mike nods obediently.
Inside, his thoughts are ice-cold.
When I'm ready… I'll frame him for a crime.Once he's gone, he won't be able to touch me ever again.
That night, Mike goes to sleep early.
I'm still a child. My body needs rest.Coach Brown told me to come later once school starts.