What comes around:

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A splitting pain pierced his back that didn't seem to differentiate from being stabbed by a metal bar nor being punched in the gut. The sun probably was shy but the ocean of blue and the splotched whites gave off the shining ethereal brilliance masking the gruesome scene that was about to happen. He gasped feeling needle spikes in his lungs. The pain made him twist mid-air like a floating gippsland earthworm, squirming for air.

He couldn't breathe.

The air pressure had dulled his senses, falling from the sixth should have been a fast fall but to him, it didn't feel like it. His skin itched and it pained like a burning piece of meat being ripped off slowly. The depths of his ears plugged by invisible plugs that made everything around him silent. He was deaf of his own voice and the pitiful plea of oxygen only became a vibration underneath his exploding lungs.

His neck hissed with pain from the thread-like line where blushes of red seeped throughout its crevices and a patch of soft foil dug into his nails. He squirmed and whimpered, the distance between him and the ground was coming to an end. He felt a foreign and curious pull from his stomach, it was curious because it didn't feel that it was from his stomach, as if his body was dividing into two different entities, one solid the other air. The pull wasn't gentle by time it became stronger, his heart stopped and he was submerged into deep silence before he could register the gruesome splat of his death.

Darkness made no value of time, it made it useless and ethereal. There was no sense of anything as if it was plain death itself. It was unknown to him how long he stayed there until his body succumbed to another internal pull that felt so foreign and menacing. His consciousness spiked from the sense of danger then his body was thrust into a wave: he felt heavily sore and beaten as if he had just pulled himself out from a wall, thick as an arm. Before he could gasp, a ruthless pain stabbed into his mind making him yelp, squishing his brains out. His eyes wavered, his mind dulled. He felt nauseated as he tip over the borders of his consciousness.

For a while his senses were cemented then it melted away. The coldness in his back made his muscles frigid and cold. He opened his eyes and landed at a dark unknown view. His brows knotted as he felt an unknown force of pain started to creep out from the corners of his being.

He was sure he was falling towards death.

He should have died, right?

Yet, now he is lying somewhere.

Painfully alive.

It was a dark unfamiliar environment.

He remembered his life. How he went from the slumps, constantly betting with his life. He worked like a hungry ghoul until he graduated college, met the love of his life, and built his own small company that gradually grew as years passed by. But when he thought everything was perfect and how lucky he was to have someone to rely on whenever and whatever——he was kicked to the ground.

Quite literally though.

He remembered the cold look he received from his lover when they fought that day, how he hugged that person as he begged——asking 'why' with a devastating confused tear-stained wrecked face. He was kicked, it was only an accident that he flew over his balcony's railing, luckily he was able to hold onto one of its metal pillars. But he couldn't pull himself up. He called his lover and begged for help, but none.

He! Just! Ruthlessly! Look! At! Him! As!

He! Hang! From! The! Railing!

And left!

With a cold and indifferent face, his lover left.

Only the familiar sound of click rang in his ears before his hold grew weak and snapped!

He fell.

As he fell, he wondered in bitterness what he did wrong to have such an ending.

He groaned as a spike of stabbing pain in his head turned into a searing pounding. A strip of cinematic record flew in front of his eyes, forcing his attention.

A child with bright green round eyes that was like starlight's against the dark sky. A smile that would conquer all hearts. He had a plum face, beautiful milky rosy white skin. The child was innocently beautiful. He was laughing and playing, running and eating, playing the piano, writing something in some notebook, hugging a woman that seemed to be his mother, kissing a man's cheeks that seemed to be his father, holding a youth's hand that seemed to be his brother. He ran around blessing everyone with warmth like a beautiful butterfly fluttering around.

His name was Brooklyn Jade. He was the second child of the main family of the Osman Clan. He was born during his parents' late years and has a weak constitution as to why he was pampered and overly protected by his family. He has a seven years age gap from his upright, strict older brother that loves him dearly.

But the child's world was bound to change.

The relationship between brothers grew estranged after their parents died.

Brooklyn with his mother and older brother had a car accident. Carlyle was in a coma for weeks while their mother died. Even when no one blamed him, Brooklyn blamed himself. If only he didn't play till it was late and made his mom and brother wait, they wouldn't have encountered that truck.

The second time was only two years since his Mother's death, but this time the one that was taken was his father.

Brooklyn's piano piece was used in a movie but he wasn't allowed to go to its premiere; his father was stern about it. So the son and father decided to go the following week. Carlyle was busy with his exam and could only promise to catch up by dinner. As they left the cinema, some hitman appeared and targeted Brooklyn but his father took the bullet for him hitting one of his vitals, he died due to blood loss.

Brooklyn, who was twelve at that time, blamed himself once again.

Carlyle earned the family business. The company was unstable and vulnerable to attacks; in the end, the distance between both brothers grew.

Brooklyn's life became unstable. He was bullied in school because of his timid and introverted character. But he found solace with his piano and writing. He gained attention from his tear-jerking novels and his music compositions in secrecy.

He became a mysterious figure in the music industry and online writing platforms. But his works were deeply appreciated by devoted fans and normal readers and listeners.

Not until the accident happened. He was slandered with homosexuality and various illicit activities were framed on him. At first, it all started with a misunderstanding, but what could 'nobody' like him do when people decided to make fun of it and exaggerate everything? With this, the cyber bullying and words turned physical. Even though being part of the group was not a big deal as the society had already evolved they made it so that Brooklyn stuck out like a sore thumb.

Brooklyn tried to tell his brother but he found out that his brother was happy having a relationship with someone. In the end, he decided not to trouble his brother and instead asked help from his closest cousin.

Brooklyn didn't want to lose his brother and trouble him with nonsense. He was full of self-blame and loathing. He thought of himself as the bad star and the cause of his parents' deaths. He didn't want to worsen his and his brother's relationship anymore. In the end, they succeeded in suppressing the rumors.

Carlyle took monthly reports from his brother's activities but knowing that his brother was relatively low-key and was living fairly well with his provided pocket money, he didn't dig things further and concentrated his attention on pursuing his girlfriend.

With that Brooklyn was set aside.

The bullying went further from words to daily tripping and pushing, it went furthermore: Upon defending himself from being smashed with a canteen tray, Brooklyn broke his left wrist. When the Doctor said that things might not be the same anymore when it comes to playing the piano and excessive wrist movement something snapped from Brooklyn.

That was his last straw.

Brooklyn took his life silently in his bathroom.

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To be continued…