Lockey's eyes glazed over, his mind drifting back through the fog of time. Images flickered, a disjointed montage of his fifteen years on Earth, as he began to share a glimpse into his past.
"When I was five, I lived a life devoid of joy, an existence marked by hardship and struggle". As whispers of an inexplicable phenomenon swept through the halls of Celestial Phoenix Elementary-"tales of children wielding extraordinary power through locks and keys—the world around me was consumed by a feverish obsession.
"His voice, cool and dispassionate, betrayed no hint of remorse as he continued his story. "For some, the emergence of these unusual abilities sparked a cruel hierarchy. Bullies, drunk on newfound power, tormented their less fortunate peers, while others fled the school, fearing for their safety in a place where rules had been cast aside. Yet I persevered, undeterred by the taunts and jeers of his classmates.
"Perhaps you're questioning why I didn't escape or attempt to protect myself; after all, my parents seemed indifferent to my well-being in the school."As Lockey delved deeper into his story, his gaze seemed to drift off into the distance, as though he were lost in the memories of his past. The air around him grew heavy with the weight of his experience, and a palpable sense of introspection hung over the room. It was almost as if he were reliving the emotions and struggles of his younger self all over again.
"On one fateful day, a group of boys, fueled by arrogance and malice, descended upon me, I was Helpless and outnumbered; I endured a vicious assault, until something within him shattered. Rage boiled over, and in a moment of raw, primal fury, I grasped a nearby stone and brought it crashing down upon the ringleader's skull. Again and again, he struck with desperate ferocity, until all that remained was a grisly testament to the terror that lay dormant within.".
As the weight of Lockey's words settled upon the room, a chill seemed to creep in through the walls, an uneasy quiet descending upon the space. "In the wake of the grisly incident, I found himself incarcerated in a juvenile detention centre. For three agonising days, I languished in the bleak confines of the facility, a shadow of his former self. Yet even as his parents paid for his release, Lockey found himself longing for the suffocating darkness of the cell—an odd solace compared to the cruel reality that awaited him at home."
"Desperately seeking an escape from the unrelenting boredom of my existence, I scrawled my thoughts and emotions upon the walls, but to no avail. The void within Me remained unfilled, the elusive happiness forever beyond his reach. "As Lockey's words painted a vivid picture of his despair, he clenched his fists, the memories of his isolation and anguish resurfacing with a vengeance. His eyes narrowed, the depths of his torment laid bare for all to see.
"My younger brother Luck basked in the glow of my parents' favour, an object of adoration and admiration. The stark contrast between the brothers was undeniable—one treated as an outcast, the other as a veritable prince, if not a god. In a household where I felt increasingly isolated, struggled to find my place.
"He chuckles softly as he continues. "Each day, the sight of his brother's smile sickened me, a bitter reminder of the chasm that separated us. Yet, curiously, I harboured no resentment towards him. Despite Luck's idyllic life nestled in the warm embrace of our parents, while I suffered in cold isolation, I couldn't bring myself to begrudge his brother's happiness." a deep sigh, Lockey proceeded to delve further into his story, his voice carrying the weight of his experiences as he continued his heartfelt account.
The doorbell's chime echoed through the room. His parents opened the door, welcoming an unfamiliar figure dressed in a maid's attire."Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood," the woman greeted them with a polite smile. "I'm the new maid you hired to take care of the children."As Lockey watched his parents exchange pleasantries with the maid, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in.
The secrets he harboured were growing heavier by the day, and now he had one more person to hide them from. Lockey's gaze caught the woman's attention as she peered through the doorway. Their eyes met, and she offered him a warm, reassuring smile. Embarrassed and unsure how to respond, Lockey felt a slight blush rise to his cheeks before hastily retreating from her view. "Don't pay much attention to him," his father, Lloyd, remarked dismissively to the new maid. "He's a disappointment and a disgrace, not worthy of being part of this family." The disdain in his voice was evident, and his disappointment in Lockey was palpable. Lloyd led the maid towards Luck's room, the favourite child whose needs she was expected to prioritise.
"You are to attend to his every need, and nothing must befall him," he instructed her firmly. The maid nodded obediently as Mr. Lloyd exited the room, leaving her to carry out her duties. As Lockey's parents departed for their four-week holiday, they left Luck in the care of the maid, once again disregarding Lockey's existence. The maid, determined to bridge the divide, clapped her hands twice to gain the boys' attention. "What would you both like to do for the whole four weeks until your parents return?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine interest. "Just leave me alone," Lockey snapped, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I'd rather they never come back." He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Luck, equally uninterested, followed suit, declaring, "This is boring." Left alone, the maid grappled with how to handle the tense situation. Making her way to Lockey's room, she noticed the walls were covered in a chaotic blend of numbered counts and disturbingly violent drawings. Her heart ached for the boy who felt so isolated and misunderstood.
Gathering her thoughts, she stepped closer to Lockey's artwork, examining the intricate details. With a gentle knock on the door, she called out, "Lockey, may I come in? I'd love to hear the stories behind these drawings. Your talent is truly remarkable. "Her genuine admiration for his artistry caught Lockey off guard. For a moment, he hesitated, unaccustomed to such kindness. As he warily opened the door, their eyes met, and he saw a glimmer of understanding in her gaze. "I'm here for you, Lockey," she said softly, her words laced with sincerity. "Your feelings matter, and I want to help you navigate this difficult time.
Together, we can find a way to make the most of these four weeks." The maid's heartfelt words resonated within Lockey, offering a small spark of hope in the darkness that had consumed his young life. In her presence, Lockey felt the first stirrings of a bond he'd never known before, an affection both gentle and unwavering. It was a foreign feeling, and yet, with each passing day, he found himself craving the solace he found in her presence. When at last he mustered the courage to ask, "Uhm... miss, what... your... name?" A soft smile graced her lips as she replied in a tender voice, "Yuki Emilia. But you can call me Emilia." Our connection deepened with each passing day, Lockey's once solitary world blossoming under Emilia's nurturing care. But fate, it seemed, had other plans. Upon their return from holiday, Lockey's parents were greeted with tales of the past four weeks from Luck.
The air grew tense as they learned of the time Emilia had spent with Lockey. With furrowed brows and clenched jaws, Lockey's father, Mr. Lloyd, summoned Emilia to face their scrutiny." What was your number one order?" Mr. Lloyd bellowed, his voice trembling with restrained fury. Emilia replied, her voice steady despite the weight of their disapproval, "To take care of Luck's every need." "Then why," Mr. Lloyd roared, "did you abandon Luck for that wretched child?""You are no better," Emilia retorted, her voice rising in righteous indignation. "All you do is favour one child while ignoring the other's desperate need for love. You have created a rift in this family, fostering an environment of jealousy and neglect. Lockey is a gem that you've tossed aside, blinded by your misguided favouritism." Her voice trembled with emotion as she continued, "How can you call yourselves parents when you so callously turn a blind eye to the pain you've inflicted? You're the worst kind of parents I've ever encountered—unworthy of the precious lives entrusted to your care."Drawing a deep breath, Emilia drove her point home.
"Lockey deserves so much more than the scraps of attention you throw his way. Your actions are shaping his world, and right now, it's a world of hurt and loneliness. How can you live with yourselves, knowing the damage you've caused?" As she takes her leave, leaving a message in a letter to LockeyReading the letter Bereft and alone once more, Lockey retreated into the cold comfort of his scribbled words, the memory of Emilia's warmth a bittersweet echo in the darkness.Lockey's eyes glazed over, his mind drifting back through the fog of time. Images flickered, a disjointed montage of his childhood, as he continues to share more glimpse into his past.One fateful evening, a sober air settled over the house as Lockey's father, Llyod, brought home a mysterious guest.The doorbell rang, and Lloyd moved to open the door. "Hello there, Mr. Lloyd," the woman greeted, her white coat hinting at the medical profession "Hello, Mrs Katherina", Llyod Greeted back.From the hushed whispers and furtive glances exchanged between his parents and the stranger, Lockey knew something was amiss.
An unsettling feeling churned in the pit of his stomach, his fury mounting with each muffled word. Overhearing the conversation between his parents and the doctor made Lockey furious."An we have a deal", Llyod said with a justification on his face. Luck comes in and asks, "what is happening here, mom, dad? Who is this woman?" His mum replies with a smile "Oh, it's nothing, The doctor here would examine you, that's all." Disgust twisted Lockey's features as he turned his back on them, retreating to his room. "I always knew they were never good parents," he seethed, his eyes burning with a fiery rage.
"How could they do such a thing?" His anger reached a fever pitch, and his vision tinged with red as he struggled to control the storm brewing inside him. That night, a darkness settled within Lockey's heart, and he resolved to put an end to it all—the suffering and lies. As he steeled himself, a key materialised in his hand, transforming into a blade— a close inspection, it reminded him of the kid life he'd taken. The door creaked open, Lockey moving closer as thunder sounded. His eyes looking like one who thirst to see his enemies falling at his feet has he moved closer. Lockey's mother stirred, her eyes widening in terror as the cold metal pressed against her throat. With a single, swift motion, he silenced her forever.
Lloyd's eyes darted to the gruesome scene—his wife's lifeless body and Lockey, standing above her, hands stained with blood. "What have you done, you wretched child?" Lloyd cried, his voice trembling with fear as beads of sweat dripped down his face. Lockey stepped closer, his icy gaze fixed on his father. "Don't come near me," Lloyd begged, his voice shaking with terror. "Stay away from me, you son of the devil!"Lockey remained unmoved by his father's pleas for mercy. "I'm used to it," he whispered coldly, his words laced with venom as he leaned closer to Lloyd's ear. "Those words are what I hear every day. Maybe I won't hear them anymore if I silence you, too." The chilling sound of the knife slicing through the air punctuated Lockey's words In the doorway, Lockey's brother bore witness to the carnage, horror etched upon his face. "Why?" he choked out through sobs, his gaze locked on Lockey's dispassionate figure. But Lockey offered no response, the weight of his actions settling like a heavy cloak upon his shoulders. Lockey, covered in the blood of his parents, looked to the doorway to see his younger brother standing. Lockey's brother bore witness to the carnage, horror etched upon his face. "Why?" he choked out through sobs, his gaze locked on Lockey's dispassionate figure. But Lockey offered no response, the weight of his actions settling like a heavy cloak upon his shoulders.
The sound of approaching sirens pierced the night, drowning out any response Lockey might have offered. The harsh red and blue lights danced across the walls as the police arrived, responding to the panicked call of a concerned neighbour. Lockey made no attempt to resist as the officers took in the gruesome scene, their faces twisted in shock and horror. "Hands in the air!" one of them shouted, his voice trembling at the sight of the scene, wondering if a kid could actually do this. As the cold metal of handcuffs clicked around his wrists, Lockey's brother watched in silence, tears still streaming down his face. Their paths would cross again, but for now, the events of that fateful night hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the darkness that had once consumed them.