I always felt like a ghost. My name is Kirito, and for as long as I can remember, I've been invisible. My friends, Yuuto, Saki, and Mei, were bright and full of life, while I lingered in the background, never quite a part of their laughter or dreams.
My mother said it all the time.
"You shouldn't have been born, Kirito."
Each time, her words dug deep into my heart, a painful reminder of my worthlessness. My father wasn't any better. His drunken rages were storms that left me trembling, hiding from the chaos in the corners of our small apartment.
One afternoon, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. The world outside was loud and vibrant, but inside, I felt suffocated. I drifted off to sleep, only to wake with a jolt. Something had changed within me. I was tired of being powerless.
Black magic had always fascinated me. I had read about it in secret, yearning for the strength to rewrite my story.
I slipped out the old book I'd hidden beneath my bed. Its pages were dusty and worn, filled with sinister spells I had only dreamed of casting.
I practiced late into the night, my heart pounding with each whispered incantation. Each time, I felt a flicker of courage mixed with fear. Fear of what I might unleash. But that fear became fuel, urging me forward.
Finally, it was time. I aimed my spell at my mother, who sat in the living room, her laughter ringing through the air like a mocking bell.
"Kirito? What are you doing, sweetheart?" she called, glancing over her shoulder, unaware of what was about to happen.
"Just wait," I whispered, barely able to contain my excitement.
I spoke the final words of the incantation. In an instant, her laughter froze. Confusion clouded her face, and slowly, a shiver of fear crept into her eyes.
"Kirito? What did you do?" she asked, her voice trembling.
I watched in a twisted exhilaration as her expression shifted. Her laughter turned hollow, replaced with an unsettling chuckle that echoed through the room. Blood trickled from her mouth, staining her lips, but she didn't notice it at first.
"Kirito, please," she gasped, clutching her throat as she began to wheeze.
"I—I can't breathe!"
Her face was contorted with panic, and I felt a rush of exhilaration.
"Just a little longer, Mom," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"You've said worse to me."
She doubled over, her breathing ragged.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! Please—"
But there was no mercy in my heart. I was in control now.
"Kirito! Stop it! I'll do anything you want!" Her eyes widened in terror, desperate and pleading, as laughter bubbled uncontrollably from her lips.
I stood there, a maniacal grin stretching across my face, relishing every moment. This was power. This was freedom.
"Just suffer a little longer. You always told me how useless I was."
With every shout that escaped her mouth, her sanity slipped further away. I felt alive, electric. This was just the beginning.
This is how it should've been. They wanted this.
I was Kirito, a useless boy no more. I was someone to be feared, and I had no intention of stopping.