Josh just had a brutal argument with his dad.

The kind where words just linger, heavy in the air, long long after the shouting stops. He tried to convey his thoughts, but as always, no one listened. 

A conversation - it was supposed to be a two-way thing, wasn't it?

Do they ever listen?

Josh stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him. The room felt hollow, like a void ready to swallow him whole. 

But maybe….. this is it. The void was the only thing patient enough to hear him. 

Because the people….

They said their eyes hurt when they had to focus on his signs, gestures.

"The perks of being a mute guy, I guess." he smirked at himself.

In his head, though, he was talking.... talking so much.

"I am fed up," he thought as he collapsed into the worn-out chair at his desk. His tired head fell into his hands. 

Maybe the wall's just as tired of me as I am of it.

With a deep sigh, Josh turned on his computer, aimlessly searching for something to distract himself. The screen blinked to life, and the first channel that came up was a news segment where - few women were locked in a bitter debate over the latest policy changes. They were shouting, angry.

A new law, empowering a group of vigilantes known as the Troopers, had just been passed. They now roamed freely in sector 5 under the guise of law enforcement, wearing badges.

Typical, Josh thought, rolling his eyes. 

The women's voices grew louder, as if each was trying to out-shout the other. 

"What I don't understand is, our great beautiful country doesn't have any shortage of police officers! We're fully armed with well-trained forces. So why..... Do we need these Troopers?"

The other woman's response was quick, sharp. "We've gone through this conversation several times already. The Troopers are only deployed in Sector 5, and you know that! The government's working on Dead coral project in the forest area there. They're needed for security and a lot of other reasons. You can't deal with natives without following their ways. Those troopers are really loved there."

"Don't lecture me!" the first woman snapped. "Now we are calling someone a criminal after seeing their popularity? just because they are loved in those neighborhoods, it doesn't make them right. We've all seen their so-called methods. Violence at every turn. Just three months ago, they burned two people alive in broad daylight. Is that what justice looks like now?"

"They were criminals," the second woman interjected.

"I don't care!" the first retorted. "Every human has rights. If we keep letting this slide, we'll have complete chaos. and we won't be able to contain it anymore."

The debate raged on, but Josh wasn't in the mood for any of it.

His mind wandered as his left hand reached for a tissue and then, without thinking, that hand slowly moved into his pants. His glasses slipped off his nose, landing on the desk, but he didn't stop.

The tension in the room mounted. His breath quickened, chest rising and falling... And then—

A sharp crack shattered the air. Gunshots.

Da-da-da-da.

The sound of plates crashing downstairs—heavy.

The noises came from below, where his parents slept.

But Josh didn't move to check what's happening. His mind was too lost to the escalating tension. His hands moved faster, in sync with the arguing voices on the screen and the chaos unfolding beneath him.

I'm close, he thought, lost in the haze.

And then it happened. He came.

The semen splattered across the screen, blurring the image of the two women still locked in their furious debate.

The noises downstairs stopped, leaving a terrifying silence in their wake.

Before Josh could even register what had just happened, the door to his room burst open with a loud, violent crash.

His father's lifeless body fell into the room, hitting the floor with a sickening thud. 

Josh froze, his mind struggling to catch up. His hands, still trembling, dropped to his sides. The room, once filled with noise and frustration, was now unbearably quiet.

Then, from the broken doorway, something else emerged.

A figure cloaked in a wolf's skin. Its eyes gleamed in the dim light, and it moved slowly towards... josh.

Its form shifted as it drew closer. The fur faded, replaced by the face of a man. 

Josh looked away in fear. his hands went above his head.... he just wanted to surrender, to live. 

That monster leaned in, "What's your name?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery.

Josh's fingers twitched, attempting to form letters in sign language, but they shook uncontrollably. 

The monster laughed, that was quite a scary sound. "Oh, you can't talk? Poor soul." He leaned closer, his breath felt hot on his skin.

"Don't worry. I won't kill you. I am a bit soft on disabled people. Just need a place to stay for a day. I'll leave after that."

His voice dropped to a whisper, "But you... don't you ever go out of my sight. Is it fine baby?"

Josh's body moved on its own, a weak nod. Not because he understood, but because he didn't know what else to do.

The lights in the room flickered—an eerie warning from the universe itself. The air felt heavier, as if the room itself were holding its breath, waiting for something unspeakable to happen.

Josh's fingers trembled but still managed to form a hesitant question in the air.

"Who... are you?"

The figure paused mid-step, its presence filling every corner of the room. A low chuckle rumbled from its throat, a sound that felt too big for one person.

The intruder reached into the folds of his coat and pulled out a battered cigar. With practiced ease, he lit it, the flicker of the flame momentarily illuminating his sharp, predatory features. Smoke curled around him, spiraling upward like sinister whispers.

"Who am I?" he said, his voice smooth but laced with mockery.

"A freaking God."