Liam's makeshift family didn't have a stable financial situation. It was no coincidence that they lived in a house the locals called "Wolf Hollow"—it was the only home they could afford in the area.
The house stood isolated, perched at the edge of the woods where the nearest neighbor was miles away. Locals whispered about it—rumors of its previous occupants and eerie tales of wolves prowling the grounds. There were even claims of strange howls and unexplainable noises drifting through the trees at night.
The odd part? Wolves weren't even supposed to inhabit the region.
In such a house, under such circumstances, weighed down by fatigue and constant stress, Liam slept deeply. His bed, with its lumpy mattress that might as well have been made of wood, didn't bother him anymore. Exhaustion was his greatest sedative.
But that night was different. The air was stifling—hot, humid, and oppressive. Sweat drenched him as he tossed on the thin sheets. Despite his heavy sleep, something startled him awake.
Liam sat up abruptly, his hands clammy and his breath hitching painfully. His chest felt tight, his heart pounding erratically, as though it was fighting to break free.
Again?
He rubbed his chest, trying to calm the wild rhythm of his heart. This wasn't the first time it had happened. Lately, these episodes had become more frequent—moments where he felt his strength drain for no reason, as though his body were betraying him.
Should I tell someone? he wondered briefly, but the thought dissolved just as quickly. What good would it do? His aunt already had enough on her plate. His uncle wouldn't care—if anything, he'd probably mutter that one less mouth to feed would ease their burdens.
This is hell. Calm down. Catch your breath!
He forced himself to take slow, deliberate breaths, letting the panic subside. When his chest stopped aching, he swung his legs off the bed and walked to the small, warped window. Pulling back the faded curtains, he stared out into the night.
The sky was heavy with clouds, stars hidden behind the thick gloom. The darkness pressed in, swallowing what little light the crescent moon offered.
Liam sighed, his breath fogging the glass.
Life is hard, even for you.
He let his thoughts drift.
Even if I wanted to leave this place, where would I go? No job, no money, no future waiting for me. I just have to endure—one more push, and I'll be able to leave this house and never look back.
A sharp sound snapped him out of his thoughts.
A muffled groan, low and grating, drifted down from the ceiling. His uncle's voice, raised in anger, was unmistakable. The house wasn't soundproof—far from it—and Liam instantly regretted being awake to hear the argument brewing upstairs.
With no headphones to drown it out, all he could do was retreat to his bed. He buried his head in the sheets, trying to block out the sharp tone of his uncle's insults. His aunt's quieter voice barely registered, but the tension in the air was enough to keep him from drifting back to sleep.
By morning, Liam was already on edge. He hadn't slept a wink, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look gaunt. He heard the heavy footsteps of his uncle coming down the stairs and instinctively rushed out of his room to avoid any confrontation.
His uncle, Jake, stood at the base of the stairs, his face twisted in a permanent scowl. He sniffed disdainfully at Liam, muttering a gruff, "Hmpf." Without breaking stride, he barked out his usual orders:
"Go help your aunt!"
Liam avoided Jake's indifferent gaze and nodded quickly. "Okay."
He slipped past him, keeping his head down. Jake had already moved on, muttering about coffee under his breath as he grabbed his coat and left the house.
Robbie, his cousin, was still asleep. Good. Liam didn't care to deal with him either. It'd be better if he stayed in bed all day, Liam thought grimly.
Liam found his aunt, Emma, in the kitchen. She was already moving through her morning routine, the smell of fried eggs and burnt toast hanging in the air.
"Good morning, Liam," she greeted, her voice soft but weary.
"Yes, Aunt. Good morning," he replied, stepping forward to help her.
But as his eyes scanned the kitchen, he realized everything was already done. Plates were stacked, the counters wiped clean. A pang of guilt twisted in his chest. He should've been down here earlier.
Emma glanced at him briefly before speaking again, her voice tinged with hesitation. "Please call Robbie."
Liam froze, his stomach sinking. He didn't want to, and Emma seemed to know it. She gave him a look—not cold, but bitter, resigned.
"Okay," Liam said reluctantly.
As he turned to leave, he caught the faintest flicker of emotion in her eyes—apology, maybe regret—but before he could say anything, she had already turned back to the stove, her focus elsewhere.
This is just how it is.
And with that, Liam walked away, shoulders tense as he prepared to wake his cousin.
Liam knocked on Robbie's door reluctantly. Before he could call out, the door flew open, and Robbie stood there, his face contorted in irritation.
"What the hell do you want?" Robbie snapped, his voice groggy but sharp. "Can't you see I'm sleeping?"
"It's time for breakfast," Liam replied evenly, ignoring the sting of his cousin's tone.
Robbie scoffed, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "Servants these days… Hey, loser, if you're gonna bother me, at least do it properly."
He shoved past Liam, grumbling under his breath as he stomped down the hallway.
Liam said nothing. It was always like this. The insults, the shoves—they were just part of his daily life, no more surprising than the sun rising.
Breakfast, as usual, was a cold, silent affair. The faint clinking of cutlery on plates was the only sound as everyone ate in wordless tension.
Liam kept his head down, shoveling food into his mouth mechanically. Across the table, his uncle occasionally muttered something unintelligible to himself, while Robbie scrolled on his phone, ignoring everyone.
When the meal was over, Jake and Robbie left together without a word of goodbye, leaving Liam alone with his aunt.
Liam stood and stretched, preparing for school. "I'm off," he announced, grabbing his bag and heading for the door.
"Liam!"
His aunt's voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see her standing by the sink, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
"Yes, Aunt?"
She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. "Don't be late coming home today," she said softly.
Liam nodded. "I won't."
Outside, he checked his bike, making sure everything was in working order. The rusted frame and squeaky wheels didn't exactly inspire confidence, but it was all he had.
This thing doesn't carry anyone; I'm the one carrying it, Liam thought with a sigh, mounting the bike and pedaling down the bumpy dirt path that led to the main road.
The ride was as grueling as always. Every push of the pedals seemed to sap his energy, leaving his legs aching before he even reached town. He couldn't help but think of Robbie, who had a car. Must be nice, he thought bitterly.
Liam barely made it to class on time, rushing into the room just as the bell rang. He slid into his usual seat, catching his breath.
A quick glance around the classroom told him something was off. Dave, his closest friend, was nowhere to be seen.
He's not here?
It was unusual for Dave to miss school without a reason. Liam frowned, making a mental note to check in with him later.
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Benson.
Again?
She strode into the room, her expression as stern as ever, clutching a stack of papers. Mrs. Benson had the first hours of the day, and Liam couldn't help but groan inwardly. Her lectures were notoriously dull and dense.
"All right, class, settle down," she said curtly, slapping the stack of papers onto her desk. "We have a lot to cover today."
Liam leaned back in his seat, bracing himself for what promised to be a long, tedious morning.
The day's already off to a great start.