The warm sun shined down, the fresh grass served home to various insects around. Nostalgic yet renewing chanting of children echoed from afar, cheerful conversations filled the balcony where parents would rest, drinks in hands; summer was here. Happiness could be felt, June's glory was at
its peak and school had finally ended. No one, not the children nor the adults, would've even fathom an event so gut-wrenching and sickening it could ruin one's life, yet it was happening at just two houses away. Well, rather than innocently ignoring, they actually didn't want to know.
If someone dared say this place was filled with dark secrets, its people would have laughed it out and ignored them. This neighborhood was cheerful and happy, yet ignorant and disgustingly egoist
This was the reason why such a young child would cry in the middle of his empty room every single day, praying to someone he couldn't even think of, praying
for his mother's and his freedom.
He would just pray every single day, with a slight hope to be, somehow, saved. This very child, who couldn't go outside and couldn't talk without permission at risk of being hit and punched, was our very dear Yuri.
As you might've guessed, his parents were pretty much doing what we usually call 'neglecting'.
However, this was not totally true. While his father would get drunk more often than being sober, his mother was as protective and affectionate as a mother could be;
she had sacrificed all her time comforting her son once the husband was getting tired of his brutal punches.
In the middle of the room, which had no light, no bed nor a single toy, the little child would curl up and fall asleep, tears still waving down his eyes and cheeks. Though he was used to the physical abuse, he felt sick and pained.
"Why does he punch me? Does he know it hurts? Am I so useless he hates me?"
"Mom told me he loved me…".