Chapter 1: Bruised and Broken
Akin stumbled down the cracked sidewalk, his sneakers dragging against the pavement. Pain throbbed in his side where Ring's fist had landed earlier. He glanced at his hands, smeared with blood from scraping the ground when he fell. His knees buckled, and he collapsed, wincing as his palms hit the concrete. Nineteen years old, and life already felt like a losing fight.
Behind him, footsteps crunched. Akin's heart sank. He turned, squinting through the dim streetlight, and saw Ring swaggering toward him with his two buddies, Jace and Milo. Their grins were sharp, like they smelled blood and liked it.
"Thought you could just walk away, huh?" Ring's voice was low, mocking. He loomed over Akin, his broad shoulders blocking the light. "You think you can talk to me any way you want and just leave?"
Akin tried to pull himself up, his arms shaking. "I didn't say anything, Ring. Just let me go."
Jace grabbed Akin's arm, yanking him back. Milo smirked, crossing his arms. Ring stepped closer, his breath hot and sour. "You're nothing, Akin. Worthless. You don't get to act tough." He swung, his fist slamming into Akin's cheek. Pain exploded across his face, and he staggered, barely staying upright.
"Stop it!" Akin gasped, clutching his jaw. He tried to twist away, but Jace and Milo held him tight, their fingers digging into his skin.
Ring grabbed Akin's shirt, jerking him forward. "You cross me again, you won't breathe. Got it?" His eyes were cold, like he meant every word. He shoved his fist into Akin's stomach, hard. Air rushed out of Akin's lungs, and he crumpled to the ground, curling in on himself.
Ring crouched, grabbing Akin's hair and forcing his head up. "Look at me," he snarled. "You're nobody. Say it."
Akin's vision blurred, but he bit his lip, refusing to speak. Ring's grip tightened, then he let go with a scoff. "Pathetic." He stood, dusting his hands like Akin was dirt. Jace and Milo laughed, following Ring as they sauntered off into the night.
Akin stayed on the ground, his cheek pressed to the cold pavement. Pain pulsed through his body, but it was the ache in his chest that hurt worse. Why was life so unfair? Why did it always feel like the world was against him? He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to shut it all out. Just for a second.
He forced himself to his feet, wobbling but determined. He had to get home, even if home was no better than the street. The small apartment he shared with his father was a few blocks away, in a rundown building that smelled of stale beer and regret. Every step hurt, but Akin kept moving, one foot in front of the other.
When he reached the building, he trudged up the creaky stairs to the third floor. His hand hesitated on the doorknob. He didn't want to go in, didn't want to face what was waiting. But he had nowhere else to go. He pushed the door open.
The apartment was a mess. Empty bottles littered the floor, and the couch was stained with spills. His father, slouched on it, half-asleep, a bottle dangling from his hand. His shirt was unbuttoned, his face red from drinking. The TV blared some game show, the sound grating in the small space.
Akin stood frozen in the doorway, his heart heavy. Why was the world so cruel? He started to back out, hoping to slip away unnoticed, but his father voice cut through the air.
"Where you coming from, boy?" His father words slurred, his eyes barely open as he lifted his head.
Akin turned, keeping his voice steady. "Work. I had an extra shift."
His father face twisted, his eyes narrowing. "Work? Or you been sleeping around, huh? Think I don't know what you're up to?"
Akin's stomach tightened. "Why would you say that? I was at the store, Dad. That's it."
His father lurched to his feet, the bottle clattering to the floor. "Don't you talk back to me! I'm your father!" His voice boomed, filling the room. He staggered closer, pointing a shaky finger. "You think you're better than me now?"
Akin took a step back, toward his room. "I'm just going to bed, okay?"
His father face reddened. "Where you think you're going? You think that little money you make gives you the right to act any way you want?" He lunged, grabbing Akin's arm. His grip was tight, bruising.
"Dad, let go," Akin said, his voice low, trying to stay calm. He just wanted to be alone, to curl up in his room and forget the day.
His father yanked him closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. "I took care of you! As long as you live here, you obey my rules! You hear me?" His voice was a roar now, his face inches from Akin's.
"Dad, please," Akin pleaded, trying to pull free. "Just let me go please."
His father eyes flashed with rage. "You ungrateful little—" He shoved Akin hard, his hand swinging with force. Akin stumbled back, his head slamming against the corner of an iron coat rack by the door. Pain exploded in his skull, sharp and blinding. His vision went dark, his body limp as he crumpled to the floor.
The last thing he heard was his father heavy breathing, then nothing.
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