"I've always been more of a spectator in this world... at least, in the eyes of others."
"Hm? What do you mean, exactly?"
"People see me as a passive observer—someone detached, lost in his own mind, speaking only through internal monologues." Simon's voice was soft, almost reflective. "But in reality, I am far from powerless. Out of all the people they could ever meet, I'm the one who influences their lives in ways they can't even fathom. I have the power to decide... whether they live or die."
"That's... spooky."
"Is it?" Simon's lips curled into a faint smile. "Death is a part of life. One of the most vital parts, actually. It's the conclusion—the end of the story. And sometimes, a bad ending can ruin the whole narrative, don't you think?"
Simon glanced to his left, his hand absently patting the lifeless body of his father. The flesh, once firm, now sagged and withered, his scalp nearly bald. A hollow silence filled the room, and the only answer to Simon's musings was the stillness of the corpse.
"I really wish I could've saved you," Simon murmured, eyes lingering on the dead man before he turned to leave for school.
Later, as Simon walked through the quiet streets, a figure in a dark hood passed by him, shoving a folded piece of paper into his hand before attempting to slip away unnoticed.
But in an instant, the man was yanked backward by a force he couldn't comprehend. Simon's grip was unnaturally strong, his movements too quick for the man to escape.
"2209, huh? Is that supposed to be funny to you?" Simon's voice erupted, low and venomous as he shoved the crumpled paper into the stranger's face. Scrawled across it was a single number: 2209.
"H-Hey, w-wait, I was just—"
"No excuses. No apologies. No 'buts.'" Simon's grip tightened, crushing the man's neck in his hand.
The stranger's voice trembled, a thin veneer of bravado slipping away. "Hey, you know... this is a public place, I could scream. Someone will hear me..."
Simon let out a dark chuckle, devoid of warmth. "Scream? Oh, I'd love to hear you try." He leaned in closer, his voice dripping with icy calm. "I walk this road for a reason. No one is around. There's no one here to hear you in at least a 200 meter radius. Windows shut. People either at work or still asleep. And I'll let you scream, sure... but just once. You might wake someone, but they won't know what it was before you're dead. So... go on. What will it be?"
The man's bravado shattered, his breath coming in short gasps. "What... what do you want from me?"
Simon's grin twisted into something far more sinister. "What do I want?!" His voice dropped to a near-whisper, a sharp edge of malice lacing each word. "I want you to tell me everything... EVERY... SINGLE... THING..."
"P-Please... just let me go..." The man stammered, eyes darting, desperate.
"Mmph." Simon scoffed, eyes cold. "You're not going anywhere... except to my house."
Before the man could respond, Simon's hand moved with calculated precision, delivering a blow to the back of his head. The stranger's body crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the pavement.
Simon stood over him, watching the lifeless form for a moment, his face unreadable. Then, without a word, he bent down, dragged the man's limp body, and began making his way home.