Chapter 2

His weight was crushing. The scene was gruesome, not to mention questionable. The blood—sticky, hot, and pungent—smeared across my skin, mixing with the cold sweat that clung to my body as I listlessly stared at the pink star studded ceiling.

I wasn't sure how long I'd laid there. I felt disoriented, out of my own body, the discomfort of having this enormous man atop of me had long disappeared.

The blood in my eyes—foreign, thick—was seeping into my vision, but it didn't matter. It wasn't enough to make me move. I felt nothing.

And then it came all at once. A horrible feeling of nausea had found me, it rose from deep inside, clawing its way up my throat. I don't know where I found the strength as almost effortlessly I shoved the bastard off of me, sending him to the ground as he landed with a sickening thud.

I quickly turned to my side, and with a sharp strain in my neck, I bent over the bed. My stomach churned violently. The horrid contents that met the pink carpet floor were chunky in texture, and a dark brown, like I had thrown up all the grimey filth in me.

With heavy pants I fully flipped to my side, attempting to sit up as I had felt weak, but there was a sense of clarity creeping in, one moment I was numb. The next, I could feel everything.

I looked around the room. As I had thought, it was disgusting. The walls and carpet were stained, there was trash everywhere, and the splatters of blood that stained parts of the room added creepy atmosphere to the already unsettling room.

Most noticeably though, the room was oddly childish. For a moment I was confused.

The ceiling—pink, childlike stars, garish and out of place in this hellhole.

And that… the stuffed animals scattered across the floor. Torn, ragged, eyes missing.

This… This wasn't a room meant for a man like him. I immediately thought the worst.

Damn.

A growl escaped my lips, or perhaps a whimper. I felt a horrible headache hit me.

"Argh!" Before long the pain substantially increased, it felt like there were pins just up against my brain, and a large hand saueezing my head, crushing it and pushing the pins inward.

I felt mentally violated as images of memories I knew not to be mine appeared in vivid clarity, as if I'd experienced them myself.

As the pain eased, I now understood. I did die, and I reincarnated. Or would it be reincarnation? I wasn't sure.

I was now in the body of a young boy. The more memories I analyzed the more shame I felt.

Moments ago, if anyone were to ask me, with full certainty I'd tell them I'd lived a horrid life, that I'd lived in hell.

This boy, if I'd lived in hell then he had crawled through the depths of something far darker, a nightmare that made hell seem like a mercy.

——

Nolan Cross. Born and raised in the slum city of Ashfield, Greenridge. The kid hadn't smiled in years. Not since he was a baby.

He was born to two conniving, selfish parents.

His father was a small-time drug dealer who'd faced more losses than profit yet never when to quit. He'd been imprisoned twice for a total of 14 years, and unbeknownst to him was on the cusp of imprisonment again, permanently this time due to his repeated offenses.

His father had missed most of his childhood only having been released a year ago, a week after Nolan's 14th birthday. Yet, the past year had been the worst of Nolan's entire life.

Before his father's return, his life had already been a nightmare. 15 years ago, his mother alongside her older brother had conspired to murder theur grandparents seeking the two's life insurance.

The plan had gone well enough, but idiocy seemed to run in the family. In an effort to stage the crime as a robbery gone wrong, her brother decided to leave a trail of stolen goods, picking the most absurd items: his grandmother's worthless porcelain cat collection and the family's embarrassing nude painting, items both hidden in a lock coded room only family would know the pin ti.

To top it off, he accidentally left a receipt for the 'perfectly normal' items he bought to stage the scene, from the same store that sold the cats.

The same receipts which had the exact time stamped on it—right when the murders happened.

The police didn't need to do much, her brother's stupidity did all the work for them. To his mother's credit, it seemed whatever escape plan her brother had thought up wasn't a part of hers.

Immediately after the crime she'd given up the idea of waiting on the insurance checks, and utilized any connects, favors, and public transports she could to move around the city befor leaving. In doing so, leaving behind a confusing and messy trail for the police to follow.

She successfully escaped to Ashfield, a slum permeated by low lives and gave birth to Nolan, who's father had drugged and forced himself on her upon promising her a place to stay.

The family of three now lived in a run down apartment where Nolan's mother constantly brought her 'clients' who'd have their way with her leaving behind dollars in compensation.

As for his father, upon release he was joyful of the news of Nolan's existence. He thought Nolan to be the perfect store runner, he wanted to train Nolan to become a cover for him, to carry and sell things he wouldn't typically be allowed to carry and sell.

But Nolan's lack of enthusiasm towards life had derailed his plan, as he felt Nolan gave zero effort in aiding him.

Seeing Nolan's attitude towards his grand plan had sent him into a fit of rage, this was when Nolan's life had took a horrible turn for the worse.

His mother's worst abuse was her ignorance at best. Despite being under the same roof, he'd go days without seeing her, had it not been for her moans that ached his ears he would've assumed she had been killed by one of her clients by now.

In rare moments, she'd give him a few dollars for food, and the clothes he possessed were those he'd grown out of and any left by her customers.

The only physical abuse he'd face were at the hands of her clients, who often treated the place as their own playground. Most often they disliked the dead look in his eyes or his scrawny figure, and in other cases they simply enjoyed hitting him.

Even then, it'd just be a few slaps or punches. His father was not the same.

Ever since that day, any chance his father got he'd harm him. He'd hurl things at him, kick him, cut him.

Nolan, had many bruises and scars on his body, most if not all of them due to his father.

His left leg was paralyzed. It was perhaps the worst moment in his entire life.

Although he suffered, Nolan's life before his father was tolerable to him, it was the environment he was raised in after all.

But his father's abuse was one he couldn't handle. It was the only time running away had crossed his mind. And he did.

He'd been gone for only a few hours. He hadn't left in any rush, he'd doubted his parents would go looking for him, especially so soon.

Boy was he wrong. Deciding to take a rest under the awning of a closed down storefront as it was raining, Nolan doubted he shut his eyes for half a second before his father instantly appeared before him.

With a single kick to his chin, Nolan was sent into unconsciousness.

He'd awoken to screams and pain. When he woke, his body was bruised, battered, and broken. His right eye was swollen shut, and he hurt everywhere. Through his left eye, he saw his father, bat in hand swinging down at him.

He attempted to cover himself, yet his body barely flinched before the bat came down at his shoulder. It didn't hurt anymore. He'd been beaten so many times that the pain had lost its sting. He was numb.

But he was aware enough to know that wasn't a good thing. He was afraid, truly afraid. He was going to die. He knew it. His father was going to kill him.

Thankfully, the arrival of his mother alongside a large man had disrupted his father's action.

His mother gave a surprised look; "Oh he came back?" Was all she said before scurrying off to her room. Yet the man she brought along almost seemed as if he'd seen the most delicious snack upon setting his sights on Nolan.

A brownish drool escaping his mouth was the last thing Nolan saw before exhaust hit him and he passed out.

His father had fortunately only beaten him to the brink of death, however, he was left with a useless leg and a stufter as a result.

He was broken in ways no one could fix.

——

Having experienced it all from the very perspective of Nolan himself, Ceeto couldn't help feeling downed. The world he'd thought was evil enough had only gotten darker.

His mind began to trail off, wondering where Nolan—the real Nolan was now, and what he was thinking; feeling.

His eyes traveled to the corpse on the floor, as his mind thought back to why he was now here, why Nolan was dead for his body to have been taken over in the first place.

One of the clients Nolan's mother had brought along discovered the stash of product his father kept hidden in the locked cupboard just below the kitchen sink.

In classic nature he'd stolen it and left. Given the randomness of her clients, even under the relentless of Nolan's father's beating, his mother couldn't give the slightest bit of useful information to finding the man.

Thankfully Nolan had been out at the time searching for the day's meal, otherwise he'd have been initially blamed and probably killed.

The drugs of course did not belong to Nolan's father. He was a drug dealer, and as a dealer he had a supplier, one whom he had to turn in a specific amount of money to, money he did not have on hand.

His life was now at stake, the people he owed were very dangerous and powerful, he had no way of escaping without their knowledge.

He'd panicked for days at a loss for what to do, before the suggestion of Nolan's mother.

A client of her's had gained interest in Nolan at first sight, the same client who'd witnessed him beating Nolan.

He'd expressed interest in purchasing Nolan but the offer for such a thing had left her mind the instant his overgrown penis had entered her.

Seeing a way out, Nolan's father had gotten in contact with the man and negotiated a deal. For $750 and a weekly free use of Nolan's mother, Nolan was sold off to the man.

And just like that, Nolan was taken and force-fed a drug meant to immobilize all of his sense. However, Nolan's body had been put through so much without ever having the proper treatment or time to heal, that such a drug had killed him almost instantly upon consumption, giving Ceeto the chance to now inhabit Nolan.

Ceeto—Now Nolan, carefully rose from the bed. He was upset. Enraged. And for the first time since he could remember, he felt empathetic.

He'd allowed the feelings of Nolan to envelope him, perhaps he would've ignored Nolan's past if he'd only heard about it, feelings of pity from Ceeto were rare. But his previous circumstances, alongside the memories he'd now claimed as his own, rose in him a desire for vengeance. And he allowed it.