The man leaned toward Keenan, his gaze piercing, his voice dropping to a grave tone.
"Tell me, boy... does this Amr treat you well? Or is he... cruel to you?"
Keenan paused, the wooden spoon freezing halfway to his mouth. He blinked, genuinely taken aback by the question. After a long moment of thought, he spoke.
"Honestly... he's a good person. But his extreme caution... it stifles me. It makes me restless."
The man scratched his chin, a dark thought crossing his mind. Could he really be what the boy says? No... impossible.
Keenan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, offering a grateful smile. "Thank you for having me, sir. I felt... I felt like I was in my own home."
The man's wife smiled, but beneath her breath, her heart ached with pity for the child. As Keenan rose to leave, the man stood as well.
"Shall I walk you back? Or do you prefer going alone?"
Keenan hesitated, trapped once again by his own politeness. He agreed, unaware that this single step was the spark for a catastrophe that would flip his world upside down.
The sun began its descent, bleeding a deep, panoramic crimson across the horizon. The clouds were so breathtaking that people climbed onto their rooftops just to witness the fading light.
On the walk back, the man's features remained rigid, etched with a stern resolve. Every few minutes, Keenan would steal a glance at him, wondering why he insisted on coming along. But he brushed his doubts aside; after all, the man had apologized, fed him, and welcomed him. Why should he suspect him? Keenan wasn't built for malice.
Hours later, they reached the humble dwelling. The man slowed his pace, staring at the structure.
"Is this where you live?"
Keenan nodded. The man's eyes widened in disbelief. "It looks... remarkably modest."
Keenan scratched his head, embarrassed. "Haha, yes. It is."
"Is Amr here?" the man whispered.
"Probably. He doesn't like being out much after dark."
The man narrowed his eyes. He doesn't like going out at night? That lowers the chance of him being a common thief or a kidnapper... but it doesn't rule out exploitation. He's using the boy as a servant while hiding the truth from him.
His jaw tightened in sudden anger. "Could you call him? I need to speak with him."
"Of course! I'll go get him right away," Keenan replied, rushing inside.
The man stood by the open door, peeking in. He saw Keenan waking Amr from his sleep. He stepped back, waiting in the shadows of the street.
After a moment, Amr emerged. He looked at the stranger with his usual rugged, unreadable expression.
"Welcome, sir," Amr said, his voice deep and gravelly. "The boy told me what you did for him. Thank you."
Amr placed his right hand over his heart, bowing slightly in a gesture of respect.
The man faltered. He felt a sharp pang of guilt. Did I judge this man too quickly? He stuttered, "No, no... please, there's no need for such formalities."
But the guilt didn't last. Amr straightened up, his eyes turning cold. "Now... what is the reason for your visit?"
The man's tongue felt heavy, but he forced the words out. "I came to ensure the boy didn't get lost... and also... I wanted to..."
He glanced at Keenan, who was watching them with wide eyes. Amr caught the look and gestured for the boy to go inside. Keenan grumbled under his breath and disappeared into the house.
Amr stepped onto the threshold and pulled the door shut behind him. "Continue. What did you want to say?"
The man gathered his courage and leaned in. "Why are you lying to the boy?"
Amr raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"I'll be blunt. Why are you hiding the truth about his parents' death?" the man snapped, his temper rising.
Amr's eyes narrowed into slits. "How do you know about that?"
"It's as clear as day!" the man hissed. "What parents would abandon their child with a stranger unless... unless..."
"Unless what?" Amr challenged.
"Unless you're a kidnapper who stole him to use as a slave!"
Amr let out a short, dry laugh. He reached out and patted the man's shoulder. "Is that truly what you think?"
Confused by the reaction, the man swiped Amr's hand away. "Let the boy live his life! Look at him—his mind is stunted, his childhood is being wasted by your foul deeds!"
Amr's face transformed instantly. The calmness vanished, replaced by an aura of sheer, cold authority. He grabbed the man by his collar, pulling him close.
"I wanted to let you leave in peace," Amr whispered, his voice like grinding stone. "But you chose to be insolent. Now, I'll offer you the same choice one last time: leave. Walk away and stay out of business that doesn't concern you."
The man tore Amr's hands away. "I'm not leaving until I take that boy away from a filthy thief like you!"
In a flash of pure rage, Amr's fist collided with the man's jaw.
The man's entire body shuddered from the force of the blow. He nearly collapsed but managed to steady himself. He touched his lip, seeing a smear of blood. He looked at Amr with hatred, then a sudden, cunning smirk crossed his face. He stepped back into the center of the neighborhood and filled his lungs.
"PEOPLE! NEIGHBORS! COME OUT!" he screamed. "THERE IS A CRIMINAL AMONG YOU! HELP! HELP!"
Keenan heard the screams and came running out, only to be met with a horrific sight. Amr was on top of the man, raining down a barrage of brutal punches. A crowd began to gather, watching in frozen silence.
"Amr, stop! Let him go!" Keenan cried, trying to pull him away.
But Amr was gone. He had entered a place of no return—a blind, white-hot rage. Beneath him, the man's face was becoming unrecognizable, bones cracking under the weight of Amr's knuckles.
In a moment of desperation, Keenan wrapped his arms around Amr, tears streaming down his face. "Amr, please... stop! Let him go!"
The sound of Keenan's sobbing finally broke the spell. Amr's hands froze. He looked at his bloodied knuckles, then at the man beneath him who was barely drawing breath. Amr stood up abruptly.
Keenan collapsed to the ground, weeping. Amr looked at him with eyes full of confusion and turmoil, then looked at the crowd. He couldn't find a single word to say. He turned, retreated into the house, and slammed the door.
Two men stepped out from the crowd, dragging the beaten man to the sidewalk and pouring water over his face.
Keenan remained on the ground, shattered. For the first time, he had seen a monster in the person closest to him.
An old woman approached him, her hand gentle as she pulled him up. She brushed the dust from his forehead. "Don't worry, child. It's over."
Keenan hugged her tightly, his voice breaking. "Why is life so cruel?"
She patted his back. "It is cruel, yes. But you must resist. Life devours the weak of will and bows before the strong. Tell me... do you want to let it defeat you, or do you want to become stronger?"
Keenan wiped his eyes. "I want to be stronger."
"Then promise me," she whispered. "Promise me you will hold on until you are the strongest."
Keenan offered a broken smile. "I promise."
As the woman left, Keenan turned toward the man. He walked over with hesitant steps. The man's eyes were swollen shut, but he managed to crack one open.
"B... boy..." he rasped, his voice a distorted wheeze. He gestured for Keenan to lean in.
"Tell your... master... that this... won't end well for him."
Keenan pulled back, terror flickering in his eyes. He turned and ran into the house.
Inside, Amr was sitting in the dark, lost.
Keenan stood before him, his gaze like stone. "Why did you do that?"
Amr didn't answer. He sat there, as rigid as a statue.
Keenan stomped his foot. "I'm talking to you! Why did you do that to him?"
Amr slowly raised his eyes, but his lips remained sealed. Frustrated, Keenan turned to leave. But before he reached the door, Amr's voice cut through the silence—cold and hollow.
"Am I truly the reason for your suffering... Keenan?"
Keenan stopped. He turned around slowly. "Why are you asking that?"
"Just answer... am I the reason you suffer?"
Keenan went silent. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. This was his first true dilemma: How do I say what's inside me without breaking the bond between us?
"Not entirely," Keenan finally whispered.
Amr nodded slowly, as if he understood more than Keenan had said. He stood up and walked away.
Keenan watched him go, his heart aching with a sudden, sharp regret. He wanted to call out, to take the words back, but he couldn't.
He slumped onto his bed, staring at his hands. What is happening? Why is everything so blurry? Every time I try to understand, it slips away...
"What am I supposed to do?" he whispered to the darkness. "What am I supposed to do?"
He repeated the phrase until sleep finally claimed him.
To be continued...