Turpis's relentless punches gradually slowed, his breath ragged and his energy waning. The realization began to sink in that his physical actions were useless. His fists, once fueled by anger, now trembled with a mix of exhaustion and a tinge of hopelessness.
"I'm sorry," the boy whispered, his voice choked with pain and resignation. His tiny frame trembled, drained of the strength to cry out any longer. The torment inflicted upon him had taken its toll, reducing him to a mere whisper of his former self.
Julius abruptly halted his assault, his hand smeared with the boy's blood and mucus. A mixture of revulsion and repulsion washed over him, forcing him to release his grip on the boy in sheer disgust.
The boy, finally released from the suffocating grip, mustered whatever strength remained within him and began to crawl desperately towards the attic door, his body trembling with pain and fear.
"Mother..." the boy uttered weakly, his voice choked with anguish and longing.
"You disgusting pig!, you think a sorry is just enough!?" Julius kicked the boy towards the attic door. The force of the impact sent the boy hurtling towards the attic door, his frail body crashing against the wooden steps. Agonizing pain ripped through his small frame, causing him to retch, blood spilling from his trembling lips.
Turpis gritted his teeth, as he resolved to follow the trail of the wounded boy. The boy, driven by sheer willpower, crawled with desperate determination towards the staircase, his voice trembling with pain and pleading for his mother's help..
But Turpis, his voice laced with bitterness and resignation, intervened with words that conveyed a deep sense of defeat. "Don't call for your useless mother," he uttered, he knew all too well what awaited them both.
The little boy, already weakened and in pain, struggled to maintain his balance on the stairs. Suddenly, Julius's fury manifested in a vicious punch to the boy's back, sending him hurtling forward. The force of the blow caused the boy to lose his footing, and he tumbled uncontrollably down the staircase, his body ricocheting against each step.
"Why don't you f*cking die!" Julius's venomous words echoed through the air, dripping with anger and grief.
But as the little boy reached the bottom of the stairs, his trembling body immediately crawled towards the kitchen where his mother sat in a chair. Tears stained his face, and his voice quivered as he called out to her, seeking the warmth and comfort only a mother could provide.
"Mother help me.." His voice carried a mixture of hope and longing, a desperate plea for refuge in the face of unimaginable pain. With every inch he moved closer to his mother's legs, his eyes filled with hope, believing that this would be the moment of his salvation.
But as the little boy approached his mother, hoping for her embrace and protection, he was met with a chilling sight. Her gaze was vacant, devoid of the love and recognition he desperately sought. Turpis could sense a storm of emotions brewing within her, a mixture of anger and grief that overshadowed any remnants of maternal instinct.
"No, no, please, Mother," Turpis pleaded, his voice trembling with desperation and sorrow. Even though he knew that it was useless, he still dropped to his knees, hoping that this time would be different.
"My poor Jenny" But his pleas fell on deaf ears as his mother's expression twisted with a deep-rooted rage, "it was your goddamn fault!!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with bitterness and resentment. In a fit of rage and madness, she seized a boiling pot of tea, and pour it down towards the little boy's face.
The little boy's hopeful expression quickly turned to one of sheer despair as the scalding liquid seared his delicate skin. The excruciating pain caused his features to contort, his innocent face twisted in unimaginable pain.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!" the little boy's cry of agony pierced the air. The little boy's skin is very sensitive due to his skin disease so when the boiling liquid was poured to his face his agony was so intense that he starts shaking uncontrollably in the ground.
Julius immediately grabs the little boy's head and force the boy's face in the ground.
"Stop screaming!!" Julius bellowed but the little boy wont comply as the pain was too much. Julius slam the boy's head on the ground, and put his feet on the little boy's neck.
The little boy's struggles grew more frantic as the suffocating pressure around his neck tightened. Desperation filled his eyes as he gasped for precious air, his face turning red from the lack of oxygen. Each passing second felt like an eternity, amplifying the terror in his trembling body.
His eyes widened with fear, mirroring the helplessness that engulfed him in that moment. Gasping for air, his face contorted in agony, each struggle becoming weaker and more desperate. The weight of an overwhelming sense of powerlessness consuming him as he fought against the oppressive force constricting his throat.
"Julius stop" his mother suddenly ordered Julius. However, Julius remained unyielding, his eyes filled with a chilling intensity, a gaze that spoke of a readiness to extinguish life.
"Julius!" his mother's voice boomed, the sheer force of her words momentarily jolting him back to reality. The grip around the little boy's neck released, and Julius, shaken from his trance, hastily removed his feet from the boy's fragile neck.
The little boy gasped desperately for air, his body trembling with the remnants of pain and fear. Tears streamed down his face, silently bearing witness to the pain he had endured.
Yet, the two adults standing before him remained unmoved, their eyes devoid of any remorse or compassion. It was not empathy that emanated from them, but rather a sense of discomfort, as if they were repulsed by the sight before them, a reminder of something dirty and ugly.
Turpis felt a surge of anger rising within him, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
His mother, unable to bear the sight any longer, reluctantly made her way to a nearby cabinet. She grabbed a bandage, tossing it callously toward the little boy as if it were nothing more than an afterthought.
"Cover your ugly face," she spat out with a condemning tone, her words laced with scorn and disdain. Her instructions were delivered with a heartlessness that cut deep into the little boy's fragile spirit. The weight of her words settled upon him, suffocating any glimmer of hope that had managed to survive.
"And mark my words," she continued, her voice dripping with cruelty, "if I find you still here when we return in the evening, you will go without food for three days."
Seeing no response from the little boy, a surge of anger overtook his mother. "Do you hear me?!" she shrieked, her voice piercing through the air. This time, the little boy's trembling body jolted in response, and he nodded repeatedly, his wide eyes filled with fear and the unmistakable signs of trauma.
Time stretched on, each passing minute weighed heavy on the little boy's trembling form. Alone in the desolate room, his tear-stained face and bloodied wounds told a tale of unimaginable pain.
In the absence of his mother and older brother, the silence became deafening, amplifying the soft sobs that escaped his lips. The room, once a place of supposed refuge, offered no comfort, only a cruel reminder of the pain that consumed him.
"Why?" he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the quietness of the room. The question hung in the air, seeking an answer. Tears and blood intertwined, tracing a path down his cheeks, each droplet symbolizing a fragment of his shattered innocence.
In the midst of his pain, the little boy remained motionless, paralyzed by his sorrow. His cries were a muted plea, an expression of the confusion that engulfed his young mind. As the minutes ticked by, his heartache echoed through the empty room.
The little boy's piercing gaze suddenly locked onto Turpis,"Why do they always treat us like this?" his voice trembling with a heartbreaking mix of confusion and despair. The surroundings shifted, engulfed in a blinding whiteness that seemed to erase everything else, leaving only a void of emptiness.
In the midst of the vacant space, Turpis saw the reflection of his own pain mirrored in the little boy's eyes. Fear and sorrow intermingled, seeking comfort and understanding, desperate for an answer that could make sense of the cruelty they endured.
Turpis locked eyes with the little boy, his heart aching at the depth of the child's suffering. With a profound sense of understanding, he gently sat beside the boy and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly in an embrace of compassion and solidarity. The touch of Turpis's arms around the boy's trembling body brought a glimmer of comfort, a tangible presence to anchor them in the midst of their shared pain.
"Why? why do they always hates us!?" The little boy couldn't understand anything and shouted.
In the silence that enveloped them, Turpis felt a surge of emotions welling up within him. Unable to find the right words to answer the boy's desperate question, he let his actions speak for him. With each gentle squeeze, Turpis conveyed his unwavering support, a silent affirmation that he was there, that they were not alone in their struggle.
As the boy's cries echoed in the room, Turpis held him even closer, their shared warmth and connection providing a respite from the harshness of their reality. In that moment, the boundaries of their existence seemed to blur, allowing Turpis to fully embrace his younger self, offering the comfort and relief he had longed for during his own darkest moments.
As time passed by, the weight of the little boy's burdens gradually eased, and exhaustion enveloped his fragile frame. Turpis continued to hold him close, his lap becoming a soft, comforting sanctuary for the weary child. As the boy's breathing steadied and his eyelids grew heavy, he surrendered to the gentle lull of sleep.
Turpis held his younger self close, cradling him gently, and a bittersweet mix of emotions welled up inside him. In the silence that enveloped them, Turpis gazed down at the face that mirrored his own but still bore the unblemished glow of youth. The innocence radiating from his younger self's features tugged at Turpis' heartstrings, invoking a deep longing to protect that purity, to shield his younger self from the pain and hatred he had endured.
As Turpis gazed at his younger self's face, his heart overflowed with a mixture of care, empathy, and a profound sadness. He carefully tended to the little one's injuries, his hands trembling with a tenderness that he had longed to receive as a child. With each gentle touch, he sought to bring comfort and healing to the wounds, both visible and invisible.
Tears welled up in Turpis' eyes, tracing a path down his cheeks, falling onto his younger self's face "It's going to be fine," Turpis whispered, his voice choked with emotion. He struggled to find comfort in his own words, knowing all too well the hardships that awaited his younger self. Yet, in that moment, he wished to instill a glimmer of hope, a belief that amidst the darkness, there would be moments of light.
"It's going to be fine, after all, didn't we make a promise?" Turpis whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. With a steady hand, he gently began the healing process, tending to his younger self's wounds.