"You murdered your mother! Now why you taking my mother's attention from me?! cried out a young boy, his voice breaking in anguish. Across from him stood another young boy, crying, with tears streaming down his cheeks, covered in guilt and pain.
"It is not like that! I did not murder my mother!" the boy protested with a trembling voice while trying to defend himself.
"Because of you, my mother didn't love me enough! You're not my brother… you're nothing to me!" the other boy screamed, his face red with anger and sorrow, his small fists clenched tightly.
The scene seemed unreal, like something from a faded memory or some unrelenting nightmare. And Austin's heart plunged within him as he realized what this was. It was the nightmare that assaulted him time and time again, never letting him forget.
Suddenly, the picture changed.
A new scene now played in Austin's mind. He was inside a lawyer's office. A young Billy sat in a corner with his head bowed, clutching the edge of a chair tightly in small hands. Tension filled the air as adults argued noisily.
"Damn Everhart's! How dare them steal John Scott's properties? He's your friends. What about Billy? He's just a child!" somebody cursed slamming his fist on the table.
"We'll file a case! They won't get away with this!" another voice chimed in, filled with anger.
Then, as if pulled by some invisible force, Austin's eyes flew open. He gasped for air, his heart racing fast in realization that he had just woken up from the nightmare.
He was slumped on a single-seater couch, stiff because of the uncomfortable position of his body. The morning sunlight streams through the mini-curtains which flood the modest apartment with warm glowing lights. His tired eyes scan through the entire room.
Nearby, on a big sofa, curled up, sleeping soundly for once, with his face at peace with the faint traces of the pain he had endured was Billy Scott.
A faint buzz broke the silence. Austin turned to see his phone vibrating on the coffee table. The screen illuminated with a call arriving. The name read Mom. Austin leaned forward, groaning as he stretched, his body still heavy with sleep. He reached for the phone but knocked it off the table instead.
"Ugh…" he said, rubbing his temples. He leaned forward and grabbed the phone off of the end table. With a groggy voice, he answered it, "Hello, Mom?"
"Yeah, we got back last night. Classes resume tomorrow," he replied, his voice low but peaceful as he looked over at Billy, who remained unconscious on the couch.
"What about Billy? He's sleeping peacefully right now," Austin said, his eyes turning gentle as he looked over at his brother.
"Don't worry, Mom. No one will hurt him again," he said sternly before he ended the call.
Austin massaged his temples, releasing a soft moan. "Ahh, this headache…"
He turned to look around the apartment as he seemed to collect himself. It was a modern two-bedroom flat with high ceilings and windows that allowed sunlight to stream in to give the space a warm, airy feel. It was a living room amply decorated with such simple furniture as a sleek gray couch, the same color armchair, and a wooden coffee table littered with empty cups, gaming controller, some books, and Billy's phone. The walls were painted a nice neutral beige, with a couple of abstract paintings that added a pop of color.
Deciding that coffee was the only cure for his hangover, Austin dragged himself to the kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker, its familiar hum filling the quiet room.
Just as the comforting aroma of coffee began to fill the air, a loud commotion erupted from outside. The muffled sounds of shouting reached his ears, faint but unmistakable.
"What now?" Austin muttered, his headache throbbing harder with each step. He walked silently toward the main door, careful not to wake Billy, his footsteps deliberate and quiet.
He unlocked the door and cracked it open, only to hear loud shouting from the flat next door. Someone was arguing, their voice sharp and insistent. The racket cut through the otherwise peaceful morning, making his headache worse.
Austin frowning shut the door behind him and moved toward where the racket was coming from. As he got closer, he could make out what was going on. A sloppy individual, with an aura of menace and a general air of dishevelment, was shouting at the woman standing before the door of the next flat. She was in her late twenties, casually dressed; but stood very straight, very resolute in the face of his shouting.
"You can't just get up and walk out on me!" he yelled, pointing at her. "Think you could just leave like that? You owe me, and you're coming with me!"
The woman stood firm; her voice steady but unyielding. "I don't owe you anything. Over. Leave me alone."
"Hey," Austin called out, to the man and to the woman, pulling them both in on himself. His tone was casual, but an edge hung to it, a warning beneath the calm. "Can you cut this crap? My brother's sleeping and doesn't take too well to being woken to arguments."
The man turned to Austin with a scowl on his face. "Who is this guy that can interfere?" he asked, mouth and tone dripping with hostility.
Not that Austin had time to respond. "Austin? When did you get back?" she asked in a softer tone as she looked at him.
"Last evening, Ms. Julie," Austin replied calmly, quickly glancing at her before focusing again on the man.
Completely ignoring Austin, the man focused his attention again on Julie. "Forget about him! Are you coming back with me or not, Julie?"
Julie's composure cracked. Anger flared in her eyes. "You're nothing but a pathetic fool!" she spat. "I made a mistake once, but I won't do it again!" she said sharply. Her voice was firm, though there was an undertone of fear, as if she knew what this man was capable of.
Austen, already at his wit's end with the situation, spoke again, his voice cold and unrelenting. "Hey, I told you to knock it off and leave. I'm in no mood for this—especially with this headache." His hazel eyes glittered with frustration as he looked the man dead in the eye.
He turned to Austin, sneering. "Well, listen here, kid," he spat, taking a step closer. "If you get involved in this again, I'll make sure you regret it. And if I have to I'll drag you out of this building myself."
Julie stepped forward, rising up at her brother. "Hey, leave him out of this! This is between you and me. Stop dragging other people into your mess!"
Austin had finally had enough. His frustration bubbled up into action as he murmured to himself, "Time to get rid of this pest."
"Huh?" The man barely noticed Austin's movement before Austin's hand shot out and gripped his face in an iron-like vice. His fingers sunk into the side of the man's jaw and cheek, muffling any protest he may have had.
"You don't listen, do you?" Austin growled. His voice was low and menacing.
Without hesitation, Austin pushed the man back, slamming his head against the wall with a bone-cracking crack. The sound echoed through the corridor as the man's body jerked with the impact, his knees folding immediately. Blood smeared the wall where his head had kissed and slumped his body to the ground like a broken doll.
Austin loomed over him, chest heaving, his hand curling as if coiled and ready to strike again. "Fucking pests," he growled low, as cold as the icy gleam in his hazel eyes.
Julie stood motionless in the hallway. Her eyes were wide and her hand shook slightly as it teetered near her mouth. She was wordless at the sight of Austin's raw fury and the man lying immobile at his feet.
Just then, the door of the opposite flat creaked open, and a young man stepped out. His eyes darted between the bloodied wall, the unconscious man, and Austin who still loomed over him like a storm waiting to break.