Five years had passed since the birth of the child.
From the very moment he had taken his first breath, Davey lost his mother.
And just moments later, he had lost his father...
Not physically, but emotionally.
James, who once dreamed about a life filled with love and joy with his wife, Salina, found himself torn and struggling between his grief and hatred.
Though he despised the child, James could never muster the courage to harm him.
Each time he raised his trembling hands against the boy, the memory of Salina's kind... Bright smile would flash before his eyes.
His wife had given everything away for this child.
Her life.
Her dreams.
Her future.
Each time, tears would well in James' eyes as he froze in place.
His shaking fists would lower itself, and the fury in his heart would subside... although just for a moment.
"What would Salina think?" he'd mutter bitterly to himself.
"Would she curse me if I killed him? Or would she cry, knowing I failed her?"
Over time, James made a decision.
It wasn't born of love but of obligation.
"I'll raise the boy. It's my last promise to you, Salina." he whispered one night, staring at the stars.
"I'll do it for your peace… not his."
And so, the child was named Davey, just as Salina had always wanted.
But promises made without love rarely bear fruit.
Even as James kept the boy alive, his hatred never waned.
His glares were cold, his voice... distant.
Every look at Davey was a reminder of what he had lost.
Yet, to the boy, James was still his father.
***
Early Years...
By the time Davey turned eight months old, his dark eyes gleamed with curiosity.
He was an active child, crawling around the small, cramped house and exploring every corner like it's a new discovery every time.
But his favorite activity was far simpler... he would cry until James came into view.
It was as if the child's very existence revolved around his father's presence.
"uwaaaah!" the baby's cries would echo until James, frustrated and exhausted, would lift him into his arms.
Even in his bitterness, James couldn't help but feel a little bit of guilt as the baby's cries subsided.
But he never allowed himself to dwell on it.
"Don't look at me like that, kid." he muttered one evening, holding the boy awkwardly.
"I'm not doing this because I love you. It's for her... for Salina."
Davey, too young to understand, merely giggled.
While his tiny hands tried to reach for James' unkempt beard.
By the time Davey turned two, he had mastered the art of walking and talking.
His words were clumsy, and his steps wobbled alot, but his joy was infectious.
Despite James' cold demeanor, Davey would smile every time his father came home.
"Welcome home, father!" he'd chirp.
While his small face would light up like the morning sun.
But James never returned the smile.
Instead, he'd turn away, muttering under his breath.
"Stop smiling at me like that... I don't deserve it."
***
When Davey was three, things began to change.
James, who used to be diligent and timely, began returning home late.
He'd often stumble through the door with a strange smell clinging to him... a sharp, bitter odor that stung Davey's nose.
His movements were sluggish, and his words slurred.
"F-Father… are you okay?" Davey would ask hesitantly.
James waved him off, collapsing into a corner of the room.
"Juzt shud ap... kid... Eat yor food and shleep."
("Just shut up, kid. Eat your food and sleep.)
Even though Davey didn't understand what was happening, he remained grateful.
His father still brought him food, even if it was often stale or cold.
And that alone was enough for him to smile.
"Thank you, father!" he'd say cheerfully, As his tiny hands clasped together.
But his gratitude only seemed to irritate James further.
"Stop it!" James snapped one night, his voice shaking with suppressed rage.
"Stop smiling at me like that. Stop pretending everything's fine. It's not. It never will be."
Davey's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained it.
"But… you brought me food. Isn't that something to be happy about?"
James turned away, his fists clenching. He couldn't bear the sight of the boy's innocent face.
One fateful evening, Davey gathered the courage to ask the question that had been burning in his mind for months.
"Father… can I ask you something?"
James, reeking of alcohol and barely standing, glanced at the boy with bloodshot eyes.
"What is it now?"
Davey hesitated, his small hands fidgeting.
"Do I… do I have a mother?"
The room fell silent.
James froze, his body stiffening.
The mention of Salina's name was like a knife plunging into his chest.
His vision started to blur with rage and sorrow.
"What… did you just say?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
"I-I just wanted to know..." Davey stammered, his voice trembling.
"All the other kids… they have mothers. Do I—"
Before he could finish, James erupted.
"Shut up!" he roared, his hand striking the table with a deafening thud.
"Don't you dare ask me that again!"
Davey flinched, his small body trembling. But James wasn't done.
In his drunken state, years of suppressed anger and grief burst forth.
He grabbed the boy by his arm and threw him to the ground.
"You want to know about your mother?" he snarled... towering over the child.
"She died because of you! You killed her! Do you understand that?"
Tears streamed down Davey's face as he struggled to process the words.
"I… I didn't mean to—"
"Shut up! Just shut up!" James bellowed, his fists slamming down.
That night, for the first time, James crossed the line he had sworn never to.
He beat Davey until the boy's cries faded into unconsciousness.
As James stood over the motionless child, a strange sensation washed over him.
It wasn't guilt or regret. It was… pleasure.
For the first time in the last years, he felt a twisted sense of relief.
The anger that had been festering in his heart seemed to dissipate... Being replaced by a sickening calm.
He stumbled to his bed, a faint smile on his lips.
"Finally… some peace."
Meanwhile, Davey lay on the cold, hard floor, his small body covered in bruises.
Blood trickled from his head, pooling beneath him.
The room was dark, the only sound that could be heard was the faint patter of rain against the window.
Davey's tiny frame shivered... As his mind drifted in and out of consciousness.
"Why…?" he whispered weakly, his voice barely audible.
"What did I do wrong…?"
But there was no answer.
Only silence.