Awakening

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Warning

The following novel contains material that may be harmful or traumatic to some readers.It contains graphic descriptions of murder, violence, and other unpleasant text.

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* images in "Characters" section are AI Generated Images and serve as inspiration and may not fully represent the author's vision. *

For a better experience, I recommend opening the Characters section so you can visualize the character as accurately as possible. The descriptions here will not be very detailed.

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Suddenly, I wake up...

I jolt upright in my bed, gasping for breath, like I just lived through the worst nightmare imaginable. My eyes dart around the room, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Is this hell?!" I mutter in shock. What the fuck was that?

My senses sharpen, and I start recognizing my surroundings.

My bed...

My room...

Even the same disgusting, piss-reeking bucket in the corner is still there.

That was... That was just a dream?!

I rush to the window—it's intact, just as it should be. I glance down at the ground outside—nothing. No broken glass, no shattered remains of my body. Nothing from what I just went through actually happened.

It's daytime. But when I was falling—when I was dying—it was almost night...

Everything I touch feels real. The cold, the filth—the same filth I've lived in my whole life.

Slowly, my breathing steadies. My pulse stops hammering against my skull. I clutch my head, trying to recall... but everything feels like a haze. A fog I can barely grasp. Yet, I know what happened.

I turn to the door and walk toward it cautiously. Step by step.

My hand wraps around the cold handle, and I carefully push it open.

Nothing.

Just the hallway. Just the stairs.

So the entire day was a dream?

Was it a sign? Or what the fuck was that supposed to be?!

I hear laughter.

I tense up, scanning the room. Nothing.

I rush to the window. Outside, some people are laughing in the streets.

I exhale sharply. Fuck. For a moment, I thought—

I thought it was that laughter.

The one I heard yesterday. When I broke down in my bed.

So it really was just a dream?

Am I finally losing my mind?

If I am... I don't know if I should be relieved or terrified.

That nightmare was disgusting. Overwhelming. Suffocating.

But I guess... at least it reminded me about my fucking rent.

Looks like my brain is sending me signals—"Don't forget, idiot."

Did it really have to rub it in like that?!

I let out a slow, shaky breath and head downstairs.

Saul's room is closed.

If I remember correctly... I never shut that door in my panic.

So it was just a dream.

That's good.

I'm not a murderer.

Fucking hell, I'm actually relieved...

Maybe just a little.

I step outside.

I need to get that money. Now.

And I think... I need to go somewhere I really don't want to.

Because right now—I don't have any other choice.

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Life Street

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Yeah... I have to. That dream—my own fucking brain—reminded me that I have no other choice.

If I want money, I have to beg my mother.

Fuck.

I don't want to.

But I have to.

I make my way toward the building where she stays, my steps heavy with reluctance. I just hope I don't run into Synn. That woman's had her eye on me for a while now, and I don't want to draw her attention.

The streets are already alive, even this early in the morning.

"Come again, sweetheart!"

A voice rings out from one of the buildings.

Then suddenly—a man bursts out from inside, panicked, struggling to pull up his pants as he stumbles forward.

His hands are soaked in blood. As he fumbles with his waistband, he smears it all over his trousers.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! CATCH HIM! HE KILLED CLARA!"

A scream erupts from inside the building he just ran from.

The man bolts.

Straight toward me.

The crowd watches, unmoving—just spectators to the chaos. From the same building, a group of enforcers charges out, their job to protect the working girls.

Then a thought hits me.

I don't have to beg for money.

I can earn it.

If I do something for them.

The man is closing in, running blindly.

And without hesitation, I extend my leg.

He doesn't see it coming.

He trips—hard.

His face slams into the ground.

He doesn't move. Probably knocked out.

I never usually get involved in shit like this.

But I need money.

And I will not beg my mother.

This might actually work out for me.

The enforcers reach him, grab his arms, and drag him back inside.

Yeah... he's fucked.

Synn is going to tear him apart.

Now that I think about it...

Would I have done this before that dream?

When I tripped him—when I set him up to be caught—I felt nothing.

Not hesitation. Not fear.

Just... nothing.

"Timothee!"

A familiar voice calls out.

Jessica.

One of my mother's friends.

She rushes up to me and pulls me into a tight embrace. Her scent—she doesn't stink. Has Synn been raising the standards of her girls?

She finally lets go, her hands still resting on my shoulders.

"You've grown so much... It's been way too long since I last saw you." She smiles. "You really can't come visit every once in a while?"

Her voice is warm, but I don't share her enthusiasm.

I don't want to be here.

Jessica glances back at the building—the one where one of their girls just got killed.

"On behalf of everyone, thanks for stepping in." Her voice is light, almost casual. "If that bastard had gotten away, it would've been a real pain to track him down."

She smiles.

"But in the end... Synn would have found him anyway."

She laughs.

Like it's all just a joke.

"Hmm, where's my mother?" I ask.

Jessica hesitates for a moment before running her fingers through my black hair.

"Don't you want to have a little fun with me first?" she smiles. "For you... always free."

I smirk slightly. "Yeah, no. I've got a problem, and I need my mother to..."

Fuck. I hate even saying this.

"I need my mother to help me." I exhale in disgust.

Jessica gives me a knowing look. "I see." She takes my hand gently and leads me toward the main building—the one where Synn also resides.

"Since Synn promoted her to her right hand, she's barely around anymore," Jessica says, dropping a new piece of information that catches me off guard.

"Promoted? By Synn?" I ask, genuinely surprised.

"Exactly! You're lucky... she just came back yesterday."

Jessica stops for a moment, glancing at me.

"Synn is there too."

Her voice carries a certain weight. Respect.

Great. Just fucking great.

This is gonna be even worse than I thought.

Why the hell did I even come here...?

"So be careful, Timothee. Lately... she's been more irritable than usual."

Jessica warns me, and we continue forward.

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Synnalace

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Synnalace—a massive, multi-story building where Synn resides alongside her finest "merchandise." The place is more lavishly furnished than the entire Ghetto combined. Better booze, better food.

Bread.

I've never had bread before...

There's a loaf sitting there now, and I stare at it like it's some kind of phantom.

But I can't.

I won't get attached to this place any more than I have to.

Jessica releases my hand and points toward my mother.

And yes... I see her.

She's standing at a table, surrounded by a few whores and men—talking, discussing something.

"There she is. It was nice seeing you, Timothee." Jessica says with a smile before heading back out into the street.

I hesitate.

Look up at the ceiling.

Exhale.

I have to do this now.

I'm already here—half of the pain is behind me.

I move.

I walk toward her, closing the distance.

The people at the table notice me first, their faces shifting to surprise.

They know me.

Of course, they do.

Who wouldn't?

She must bring me up all the time, and when I was younger, many of these people probably had a hand in raising me.

My mother notices their sudden change in expression.

Confused, she turns to look over her shoulder.

And for the first time in years—

She sees me.

The visible shock on her wrinkled face was unmistakable.

And my expression?

As cold and unreadable as ever.

Her eyes... still as stone.

Still as empty as her heart.

"Tim...othee?" My mother utters in shock, reaching out to touch my face.

"Talia, we need to—"

"We'll discuss this later!" She abruptly cuts off one of the men at the table.

They all hesitate, just staring at us.

She notices their confusion and tilts her head toward them.

"Get the fuck out." Her tone is sharp, commanding—so much so that it catches me off guard.

Has the promotion gone to her head?

Or does she just take her role this seriously?

The table clears within seconds.

And then... her gaze is back on me.

"My dear son, how long has it been?" She muses. "Four years? Six?"

"Five years and two months exactly, mother." My voice is cold.

She smiles—then starts scanning me.

My face.

My body.

My clothes.

"You've grown so much. Sit down..." She immediately grabs my shoulder and forces me into a chair.

Then she sits beside me.

"Why haven't you been visiting me?" Her voice softens, her words slow and intentional. "It broke my heart, not seeing you every day..."

Broke her heart?

If it hurt so much, why didn't she come find me?

Not that I wouldn't have ignored her, but still—what a load of bullshit.

Manipulator.

"How have you been?" She asks.

How the fuck does she think I've been?

"It's... fine." My voice is indifferent.

I don't have time for pleasantries.

"I need your help. And trust me... I wouldn't be here otherwise."

As soon as I say it, I realize just how bad that sounded.

Her face shifts.

"Otherwise you wouldn't be..." She pauses, her voice trailing. Then, softer—"Timothee, did I... do something?"

That sentence...

It makes me want to break something.

Did she do something?

Is she playing the victim?!

I force myself to stay calm.

I need the money.

"It doesn't matter." I keep my voice steady. "Are you going to help me or not?"

She hesitates.

I can see it in her face.

She's deciding what to say—choosing her words carefully.

And then...

"Well, well, well..."

A voice that doesn't belong to my mother cuts through the air.

And there she is.

That slimy, disgusting woman.

I turn toward the voice.

Synn.

Draped in her usual black, disgusting attire.

She looks like a spider—and a snake—coiling around you, just waiting for the right moment to sink her fangs into your throat.

I exhale sharply and rub my face.

"Oh, my beautiful Timothee... why so repulsed?" Synn purrs, her voice dripping with amusement. "Don't I look absolutely stunning in your eyes?"

I glance at her.

At her pale skin.

Her long, white, cascading hair.

My mother is still watching me—staring at my face.

I shift my gaze back to the snake.

"Synn... could you please give us a moment alone?" I ask politely—though she sure as fuck doesn't deserve it.

Synn bursts into laughter.

"You... want me to leave you alone... in my own house?" She mocks.

She saunters over to the table, leans against it, and locks her deep, piercing gaze into mine.

"If you let me own you..." she purrs. "You can do... whatever... you... want."

My blood boils.

"My precious son is finally here, Synn!" My mother exclaims excitedly, like a child.

That... surprises me.

Synn strokes my mother's hair and coos.

"I know, my dear Talia... and he's even more insolent than before."

That snake.

She's wrapped my mother so tightly around her fucking tail.

"Timothee... Timothee..." Synn's voice turns mocking. "Independence isn't working out too well, huh?"

Her tone—it grates my fucking nerves.

"Did you come for some money?" She teases. "No food? No booze? What's the problem?"

"Synn, maybe he just came to see me..." My mother interjects.

Synn chuckles—right in my fucking face.

"Him? After all these years? He just shows up out of nowhere? Sweet Talia, that's hardly from the goodness of his heart."

She leans in slightly, her smirk widening.

"Your only son... didn't come to visit his lonely mother. He came here to beg her for money."

That last part?

That gets to me.

I scoff.

"Lonely mother?" I repeat, drawing their attention.

"She has you, doesn't she? And all the others? They've always been more important to her than me—so what the fuck are you talking about?"

My voice—sharper than even I expected.

And even Synn is caught off guard.

"What the fuck... am I talking about?" She echoes, confused.

"TIMOTHEE!" My mother snaps.

I glare at her.

At both of them.

Imagining—

Just imagining—

Driving thousands of knives into that disgusting, vile woman.

"How dare you?" Synn hisses, her voice suddenly dangerously low.

And then—

"Apologize, Timothee." My mother orders.

My. Mother.

HA... HA... HA... HA...

I stand abruptly, shove my mother aside, and head straight for the exit.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going, you little shit?!" Synn barks.

Immediately, her goons grab me.

I don't fight back.

I let these fuckers carry me—drag me—right back in front of her smug fucking face.

She pulls out her needle.

Runs it slowly across my cheek.

But I feel nothing.

Nothing... except rage.

I walked away—because if I didn't, I would've said something that could've gotten me killed.

And now... I'm so close to death.

"Apologize... and you're free to go, Timothee," Synn says sweetly.

Apologize?

Should I?

What the fuck is happening to me?

Why don't I feel fear?

Why don't I feel anything?

Where is my self-preservation?

What the fuck is going on?

I feel nothing but hatred.

My mind is running cold—calculating.

But I was never like this.

I could've just nodded.

Could've kept my head low.

Could've played along.

Could've walked out of here with some fucking money for that GODDAMN RENT.

Did that death in my dream change me this much?

I experienced the one thing I feared the most...

And now?

Now my body reacts as if death is just... another part of life.

Like confrontation is just another fucking meal.

Inside me—

There is only one thing.

Disgust.

I lift my head—

Slowly.

And I look at her.

Right in her eyes.

No fear.

She searches for it.

Desperately.

But she won't find a fucking thing.

NOTHING.

"Synn..."

She watches me—waiting.

Waiting for my apology.

Will she get it?

No...

"Go..."

Fucking.

"To..."

Way, that she will get.

"Fuck yourself, you filthy, disgusting, miserable little bitch." I say it with a smile.

Synn's face twists in shock.

She wasn't expecting that.

Not from me.

Her goons tighten their grip—

But before they can react—

I jerk free.

Grab a bottle—

SMASH IT over one of their heads.

The fucker drops.

The second one?

I shove him—

HARD.

He stumbles back—crashing into the counter.

I run.

I BOLT out of the building.

"CATCH THAT LITTLE FUCKER! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!"

Synn's scream shakes the fucking walls.

Oh fuck—

WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST DO?!

It's done.

I run.

I fucking RUN.

CRASH—

I slam the doors open—

THUD.

Some idiot outside takes the hit, rolling across the ground.

The street freezes.

All eyes on me.

Like I'm some monster.

Some criminal.

Maybe I am.

Like that man I tripped—who ran after committing murder.

But the difference?

I don't feel fear.

I don't feel guilt.

I feel...

Free.

Liberated.

Even with the bastards chasing me—

I'm not afraid.

The world—silent.

No sound.

No voices.

No thoughts whispering fear.

No thoughts screaming survival.

Just—

Nothing.

But then—

That laughter.

Faint at first.

Like a whisper.

Then—

Louder.

STRONGER.

Is it mine?

Has my mind finally snapped?

Is this how it feels to lose everything?

To release all anger—

And be left with just—

Emptiness.

I just—

I just RUN.

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Infront of Saul's House

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I lean against the wall outside my house.

Fuck. I ran as fast as I could.

I lost those bastards, but Synn won't stop hunting me.

That bitch has eyes everywhere.

I can't stay here.

I catch my breath, then move. Now.

I need to pack my shit and get out.

Still—

That laughter.

Echoing inside my head.

Why?

What the fuck is this?!

Why am I hearing it?!

Fuck it—

I rush upstairs.

Each step creaks beneath me.

Just like in my nightmare.

It should terrify me—

But I feel nothing.

I grab everything useful.

And then—

I'M OUT.

...

I take the stairs down.

That laughter...

It's at its peak.

I can't even hear my own thoughts anymore.

Just—

Laughter.

That fucking laughter.

I reach the front door.

And then—

I freeze.

One detail.

One small, strange detail in this flood of madness.

Saul's door.

Still closed.

At this time—

He should already be outside.

I stop.

The laughter cuts out.

And I—

I place my hand on the doorknob.

I should be running.

But I don't.

I should be scared.

But I feel nothing.

I open it.

And—

I see him.

Saul.

Dead.

On the floor.

In the exact same position as in my dream.

I freeze.

And yet—

I feel nothing.

Nothing.

Just—

A quiet chuckle.

Somewhere nearby.

To be continued...

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