Decisions

The pale morning light seeped through the cracks in the blinds, painting Felix's room in muted shades of grey. He sat motionless on the edge of his bed, the folded paper from the man in black resting on his lap.

The room was silent, save for the faint sound of his ragged breathing. His eyes were red, puffy, and distant, staring at the floor as though it held all the answers he'd never find.

The memory of his grandfather's voice still echoed in his mind, each word a dagger twisting in his chest.

*"I'll always be here, Felix. Always."*

He clenched his jaw, his fists tightening around the paper until it crumpled in his grip.

"Liar," he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse from crying.

The heaviness of the house pressed down on him, suffocating. Every creak of the floorboards, every muffled sound from downstairs only reminded him of how much he hated this place. How much he hated *himself*.

He unfolded the paper slowly, smoothing out the creases with trembling hands. The words stared back at him like a challenge.

**"Eterna Institute of Advancement."**

A new life. A way out.

But was it real?

Felix's thoughts raced, his mind tugged in a thousand different directions. The man in black's words replayed in his head, smooth and hypnotic.

*"You don't belong here, Felix. You're better than this."*

His chest ached, the weight of indecision clawing at him. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe there was something better waiting for him—something beyond the pain and emptiness that consumed him.

But a part of him couldn't help but doubt. Nothing good ever happened to him. Why would this be any different?

The sound of footsteps on the stairs snapped him out of his thoughts.

He tensed, his hands instinctively clutching the paper as the door creaked open. His sister stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a cruel smirk on her lips.

"Still sulking?" she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "You're pathetic, you know that?"

Felix didn't respond. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his shoulders hunched as though bracing for a blow.

She stepped into the room, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the paper in his hands. "What's that? Some kind of suicide note?"

His stomach twisted, anger flaring in his chest. He crumpled the paper in his fist, shoving it into his pocket. "Get out," he muttered, his voice low and shaking.

She laughed, a sharp, grating sound. "Aw, what's the matter? Did I hurt your feelings?"

Felix's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. "I said get out."

Her smirk widened. "What are you gonna do about it? Cry to Grandpa?"

The words hit him like a punch to the gut.

Before he could stop himself, he stood, his eyes blazing with fury. "Get out!" he shouted, his voice cracking with raw emotion.

For a moment, his sister's smirk faltered, her eyes flickering with surprise. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a sneer.

"Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes as she turned to leave. "Have fun wallowing in your misery."

The door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing through the small room.

Felix sank back onto the bed, his hands trembling as he pressed them to his face. His breathing was shallow, his chest heaving as he tried to calm the storm inside him.

He pulled the paper from his pocket, staring at it as though it held all the answers.

Was this his chance? His way out?

His thoughts drifted back to his grandfather's promise, the warmth in his voice, the strength in his words.

But he was gone now.

And Felix was alone.

His grip on the paper tightened. He didn't know if he could trust the man in black. He didn't even know what this "Eterna Institute" was or what it wanted from him.

But it didn't matter.

Anything—*anything*—was better than this.

Felix stood, slipping the paper back into his pocket. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he was afraid that stopping would make him change his mind.

He grabbed his bag, the weight of the chessboard inside grounding him.

"Grandpa…" he whispered, his voice breaking. "If you were here, you'd tell me what to do. You'd know what to say."

Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away, forcing himself to take a deep breath.

"I'll find my own way," he said softly, his voice trembling but resolute.

With one last glance at the room—the cracked walls, the peeling paint, the tiny window that barely let in any light—he turned and walked out the door.