Chapter 42

"Wasn't it hard for you since you were such a child?" I asked, a surge of empathy washing over me.

"You have no idea. I don't know when it started exactly, but one day, out of the blue, I started seeing old men with no heads roaming around our house and women with disfigured faces," he said, sighing as if recalling some distant childhood trauma. "I really had a hard time with the fact that I was the only one among my family who could see them. People called me a liar. Heck, even my parents thought I was crazy and took me to a psychiatrist. Nobody believed me. That made those days a lot more unbearable," he chuckled trying to lighten up the atmosphere. 

I fell silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. Imagine: no one even tried to understand him or believed his truth—not even his own flesh and blood. The thought was heavy, like a weight on my chest, and I felt a pang of sympathy for him.