Three years had passed since Roze's transformation. Now 10 years old, he had grown accustomed to Gustaf's nightly terror. The old man's cruelty knew no bounds, and Roze's tiny frame bore the scars of countless beatings.
Gustaf's sadism was boundless. He reveled in Roze's pain, often prolonging his suffering for twisted pleasure.
"Please, Grandpa, stop!" Roze begged, but Gustaf's rage only intensified.
One fateful day, while toiling in the kitchen, Roze spotted a mouse pilfering bread. With a surge of determination, he chased the rodent, knife in hand. The thrill of the hunt momentarily distracted him from his miserable existence.
After a lengthy pursuit, Roze cornered the mouse and reclaimed the stolen bread. Panting, he realized he had inadvertently escaped the prison of Gustaf's hut.
Curious onlookers gazed at him, some with pity, others with concern. A grizzled old man broke the silence.
"That old monster's been having his way with you, hasn't he? The bastard's been using you for his twisted pleasure."
Roze's confusion deepened. "What do you mean?"
The old man's eyes locked onto Roze's. "If you want to uncover the truth about yourself, kid, I'll tell you. Just ask."
Roze's fear of Gustaf's wrath propelled him back toward the hut. He sprinted, heart racing.
Gustaf's fury awaited him. "Roze, you damned brat! Where have you been?"
Before Roze could explain, Gustaf's slap sent him tumbling.
"Please, Grandpa, stop!" Roze begged, but Gustaf's rage only intensified.
The belt whipped through the air, cracking against Roze's skin with sickening precision.
"You're worthless, Roze!" Gustaf spat. "You exist solely for my amusement."
Each lash landed with calculated brutality, tearing flesh and shattering Roze's spirit.
Gustaf's eyes gleamed with malevolence. "You'll never escape me, boy. I own you."
As the beating continued, Roze's screams grew hoarse. His body trembled, his mind reeling.
Just when it seemed the torture would never cease, Gustaf's fury finally subsided.
Breathless, Gustaf stood over Roze's battered form. "Your dinner for today... special soup!" He urinated on Roze's face.
Trembling, Roze licked the vile liquid, conditioned to obey.
As Gustaf departed, Roze washed his face, resolve burning within him. He thought to sneak out again, determined to uncover the secrets the old man had hinted at.