"You killed your mother! Now why you taking my mother's attention from me?!" a young boy cried out, his voice breaking with anguish. Across from him stood another young boy, tears streaming down his face, his expression full of guilt and pain.
"It's not like that! I didn't kill my mother!" the boy protested, his voice trembling as he tried 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 felt surreal, like a hazy memory or a cruel dream. Austin's heart sank as he realized what this was. It was the nightmare that haunted him time and time again, never letting him forget.
Suddenly, the image shifted.
Now, a new scene played out in Austin's mind. He was inside a lawyer's office. A young Billy sat in a corner, his head bowed, his small hands clutching the edge of a chair. Tension filled the air as adults argued heatedly.
"Damn Everhart's! How dare they steal John Scott's properties? He's your friends. What about Billy? He's just a child!" someone cursed, slamming their fist onto 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 an unseen force, Austin's eyes flew open. He gasped for air, his heart racing as he realized he had woken from the nightmare.
He found himself slumped on a single-seater couch, his body stiff from the uncomfortable position. The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, filling the modest apartment with a warm glow. His tired eyes scanned the room.
Nearby, on a large couch, Billy Scott lay curled up, sleeping soundly for once, his face peaceful despite the faint traces of the pain he had endured.
A faint buzzing sound broke the silence. Austin turned to see his phone vibrating on the coffee table. The screen lit up with an incoming call. The contact name read, Mom. Austin leaned forward, groaning as he stretched, his body still heavy with sleep. He reached for the phone but accidentally knocked it off the table.
"Ugh…" he muttered, rubbing his temples. He bent down, grabbed the phone, and answered the call groggily, "Hello, Mom?"
"Yeah, we got back last night. Classes resume tomorrow," he replied, his voice low but calm as he glanced at Billy, who remained undisturbed on the couch.
"What about Billy? He's sleeping peacefully right now," Austin added, his gaze softening as he watched his brother.
"Don't worry, Mom. No one will hurt him again," he said firmly before ending the call.
Austin rubbed his temples, groaning softly, "Ahh, this headache…"
His eyes wandered around the apartment as he tried to gather himself. The place was a modern two-bedroom flat, with high ceilings and windows that allowed sunlight to stream in, giving the space a warm, airy feel. The living room was minimally furnished, with a sleek grey couch, a matching armchair, and a wooden coffee table cluttered with empty cups, , gaming controller, a few books, and Billy's phone. The walls were painted a neutral beige, adorned with a couple of abstract paintings that added a touch of color.
The open-plan layout connected the living room to the kitchen, which had a clean, functional look—dark countertops, white cabinets, and a stainless-steel coffee dripper sitting on the counter, waiting to be used. Though the space was clearly too large for two bachelors, it carried a certain charm, blending practicality with comfort.
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.
Frowning, Austin shut the door behind him and walked toward the source of the commotion. As he approached, the argument became clearer. A rough-looking guy, with an air of aggression and a slightly disheveled appearance, was yelling at a woman standing at the door of the neighboring flat. She appeared to be in her late twenties, dressed casually, her posture tense but resolute.
"You can't just walk away from me!" the man shouted, pointing a finger at her. "You think you can leave like that? You owe me, and you're coming back with me!"
The woman stood her ground, her voice steady but firm. "I don't owe you anything. It's over. Leave me alone."
"Hey," Austin called out, drawing the attention of both the man and the woman toward him. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it, a subtle warning beneath the calm. "Can you stop this nonsense? My brother's sleeping, and he doesn't like waking up to arguments."
The man turned to Austin, scowling. "Who the hell are you to interfere?" he asked, his voice dripping with hostility.
Before Austin could reply, the woman interjected. "Austin? When did you get back?" she asked, her tone softer as she looked at him.
"Last evening, Ms. Julie," Austin answered calmly, glancing briefly at her before turning his focus back to the man.
Ignoring Austin, the man turned his attention back to Julie, his voice rising again. "Forget about him! Are you coming back with me or not, Julie?"
Julie's composure cracked, anger flashing in her eyes. "You're nothing but a pathetic fool! I made a mistake once, but I won't make it again!" she snapped. Her voice was resolute, though there was an undercurrent of fear, as if she knew what this man was capable of.
Austin, already fed up with the situation, spoke again, his tone cold and unyielding. "Hey, I told you to knock it off and leave. I'm in no mood for this—especially with this headache." His hazel eyes glinted with irritation as he stared the man down.
The man turned back to Austin, his expression twisting into a sneer. "Listen here, kid," he spat, taking a step closer. "If you interfere again, I'll make sure you regret it. I'll drag you out of this building myself if I have to."
Julie stepped forward, her voice rising to protect Austin. "Hey, leave him out of this! This is between you and me. Stop dragging others into your mess!"
Austin had reached his limit. His irritation boiled over into action as he muttered under his breath, "Time to get rid of this pest."
"Huh?" The man barely registered Austin's movement before Austin's hand shot out, gripping his face with iron-like force. His fingers dug into the man's jaw and cheek, muffling any protest he might have had.
"You don't listen, do you?" Austin growled, his voice low and menacing.
Without a moment's hesitation, Austin drove the man backward, slamming his head into the wall with a bone-rattling crack. The sound reverberated through the corridor as the man's body jerked from the impact, his knees buckling instantly. Blood smeared the wall where his head had connected, and his body slumped to the floor like a broken doll.
Austin stood over him, his chest heaving, his hand flexing as if ready for more. "Fucking pests," he muttered, his voice as cold as the icy glare in his hazel eyes.
Julie stood frozen in the hallway, her eyes wide and her hand trembling slightly as it hovered near her mouth. The sight of Austin's raw fury and the man lying motionless at his feet left her speechless.
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.