Chapter 2: A Grim Change (I)
Around 6 was where the torment first started, Leone, was eight at that time and led a small gang of henchmen who either worshiped him or supported him at his deeds.
As the village's representative, he was often regarded as the village's joy.
Also at the ripe age of six, was where a child first began to display their uncanny gifts and attributes.
The torment only truly began when the age of six flex by and my ability never emerged from its cocoon. The only excuse that I let out was, "that it was still dormant" but even that just became a hopeless ideal.
The simple act of shoving, name-calling, or being mean in general was like a lighter. I was the fuel. With that, it triggered more acts of violence, each time pushing farther and farther against the boundaries of right and wrong.
Name-calling merged into shoving. While shoving became bullying. Eventually, bullying became which at my current age of 13 became arson. It was almost unbearable that seeds of doubt and death emerged from my thoughts but my will wouldn't allow it as I had my grandma to take care.
I thought that I could last it out until Leone and his gang left the rural area but now…
It feels as if life has fallen into a bottomless forlorn hole.
𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2: 𝕬 𝕲𝖗𝖎𝖒 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊
Multiple beads of blood trickled quickly down my forehead as my body throbbed with dozens of bruises that riddle my lonesome body.
The two sculptures with each tick of time that flew by, granular sand of pleasure faded away until it was so much so that there was nothing left.
In a world of pain, the only thoughts that occurred were a piercing agony that made me feel at woe. I felt as if I had been pierced by a thousand spears and hanged out to dry. Seeds of doubt had been manifested and planted in my head as I felt somber. While anguish and misery teased me as if we were enemies.
This would have never happened if I happened to accept his offer.
A pool of blood spread out on the scorching pavement, just inches away from the puddle of water.
Cultivated by the overwhelming and overbearing amounts of pain, at this point, everything felt like a fanciful semblance.
"Hey, I think we went a bit too far," Kivdre murmured under his breathe as if witnessing the bloody and pulpy scene.
"Hey, Arata. I'll spare your life if you apologize to me a hundred times," Leone chuckle with a wide grin on his mouth. This seemingly was an indirect way of silencing his henchman.
What? The planted seeds of uneasiness had already grown to a seedling, as distinctive fear raced throughout.
Such thoughts of fear displayed moments of dread as disobeying him could result in the feeble fate as the embers of the house.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears, looms the horror of mammoth and beast. I could witness only fear that no one in this district had the authoritative power to restrain him.
His eyes of flame reflected his greed and his desire for destruction. A part of me was terrified and would listen to his every order but a tiny sliver of hope represented the death of my grandma and stood for vengeance.
Terrified and dreadful, I could only do nothing but say sorry with the most amiable tone possible.
"I'm sorry."
I felt nothing but fear. An agent of despair that suppressed nay other emotion to keep the vital vessel alive.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
"Oh mannn, he's actually doing it," Kivdre yelled joyously as it was such an entertaining sight.
"I'm sorry."
"People who are useless waste of space should act like one," Arsiel replied with a cavalier smirk.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
Grimacing with his own statements, I felt as if the own words felt more distinctive and more remote.
"I'm sorry."
The more I apologized the more it became clear. An emphatic thought that boomed, clearing out the rest of my thoughts. I felt something brewing. A seemingly inadequate thought popped up in my mind
"I'm sorry."
This thought was straightforward and upright yet it wore a marionette mask that triggered more series of more concerning ideals all descending towards him being infuriated
"I'm sorry."
Why was I apologizing?
They were the ones who were tormented for continuous amounts of years without unrelenting mercy. Killing those who I endeared. And now Leone had the indescribable urge to create a proposal to silence me.
The pot that brewed began to simmer and rise along with bitterness that crackled with an unearthly flame.
"You know what? Fuck you." I yelled loud and clear.
Silence arose from the surroundings as if nature's cries were being dictated by me. The howling summer gales faded into the abyss as the cries of fowls and birds were silenced with the statement. Erupting from everywhere, I felt strangely at ease and serenity.
The atmosphere felt cold and distant— literally, as the sun's radiating heat had seemingly faded along with the wind and the fowls.
I was horrendously bold.
Yet boldness couldn't save me from being converged on as the trio surrounded him.
"Kill him," Leone yelled out in irritation as flames swelled up and manifested in his hands. The flames that emerged from his hands seemingly reflected his mood as they burned with sinful ire.
Desperation and animosity swelled up as all sorts of impulses erupted. The fury that stung like a wilted brier rose continued to live on as he knew that time was running short.
Even with that in mind, I ran up to him a split second, with my boldness in hand but something different happened— time seemingly became an icy gale as everyone's movements jarred towards a monotone speed.
The slur of sounds that nature's orchestra produces feels like its been muted— a metronomic murmur. There were merely snoozing and slumbering in their verdant robes.
What is going on?
Why does time feel like it's been slowed down? Not just that but the lens that I stared through was the monochrome world.
Whilst feeling like it was a blessing in disguise.
In shades of ink and blankness, the sensation felt odd— achromatopsia.
The inky black silence showed resilience as even time that appeared to still be static started to resume. The jarred movements began to become more defined as it seemed that the trio's perspectives were not frozen at all.
They were seeing things normally.
Was this one of god's blessings?
The moment would be a lost cause for not if I tried to escape. Taking the opportunity, I bolted left to grab my sword which lies ill-witted in the lush overgrowth. Grabbing, I then ran rightwards as the terrain would be more favorable to my advantage.
I had lived in the forest for countless years so the forest's route was embedded and adorned to the back of my hand.
If the time would be released from its static form, the most possible outcome would be that they would follow me into the forest.
While running leftwards, I passed by a puddle of water that he had seen earlier. A remarkable scene in such peculiar and in urgent manner that I had to pause and look back.