memories

**[Michael's POV]

'Pain… as if I had fallen into an endless abyss. Every cell in my body screamed, and each breath I took felt like a knife piercing my chest.'

It wasn't sharp or sudden pain, but heavy, slow, relentless—as if my bones had turned to ash and rearranged themselves inside me. I wasn't sure what hurt more: the deep wounds or the humiliation I'd endured.

The smell of blood filled my nose, a thick mix of sweat and iron. The cold floor beneath my bare skin amplified my sense of vulnerability, and the metallic taste in my mouth told me I'd lost too much blood.

'How much time has passed?'

I wondered, trying to move my fingers, but the pain overpowered me. I felt like nothing more than a breathing corpse.

*"Tap… tap… tap."*

My thoughts shattered at the sound of approaching footsteps. I turned my gaze toward the source and saw Jackson staring at me with a mocking grin.

"Seems James did a better job than I expected," he sneered, stepping closer. He placed his hand on my wounded shoulder.

"Hsss—" I flinched from the pain, gritting my teeth to suppress a scream.

............

**[Jackson's POV]**

I stared at the battered body struggling to breathe before me.

I walked toward him with steady steps, not bothering to hide my presence.

He turned his head toward me, his eyes glaring with unmistakable rage.

"Seems James did a better job than I expected," I mocked, moving my hand to his shoulder and pressing down hard. He jerked violently, trembling from the pain.

"*Sigh*— I wanted to play with you a bit longer, but alas, your condition doesn't allow it," I said, feigning sadness.

His muscles tensed, his body shaking violently. I chuckled softly at the sight. Without hesitation, I swung my fist.

*"Thud!"* Excitement surged as my knuckles collided with his face.

"Do you know how much I've suffered because of you all these years? But today, it ends," I shouted. "Today, I'll have my revenge… Heheh."

*"Thud… thud… thud—"* The echoes of punches filled the room.

"*Huff*—" I took a deep breath when I finally stopped. Michael lay unconscious.

"*Tsk*— Trash."

I spat the words and left the room.

............

**[Michael's POV]**

*"Thud… thud—"*

As punches and kicks rained down on my torn, bleeding body.

'Why is this happening to me… What did I do to deserve this? Why…?'

Before I knew it, I blacked out.

My mind drifted into darkness, and I began recalling the start of it all—the beginning that turned my life into a living hell.

I was thirteen, a middle school student like any other boy my age. I was top of my class and popular due to my looks and grades. But popularity also bred envy, and among my haters was a student named Brian. Brian was academically weak and average-looking—I outshone him in every way.

Yet his family was wealthy and influential in the city. He bullied and assaulted other students, even sending one to the ER. But the principal turned a blind eye, giving him nothing more than a slap on the wrist.

And now, you might wonder—what does this have to do with my current state?

Well, let me explain.

One day, walking home after school, I stumbled upon Brian and his gang dragging a student into an alley behind the school.

I recognized the student—Sam, my desk mate. He was short for his age, always wearing a shy, nervous expression. Despite that, he was kind-hearted and helpful. Seeing him in that situation, I knew what was happening. Without thinking, driven by the sense of justice I'd cultivated from reading novels, I intervened.

I stopped at the alley's entrance, fists clenched, watching the scene unfold. Brian acted like he owned the place. When he raised his fist, rage ignited inside me as I heard his words:

"All I asked was for you to sprinkle itching powder on his clothes. Is that too hard?!"

After speaking, he punched Sam in the stomach, forcing him back. Before Sam could steady himself, another punch landed on his face, leaving it swollen.

"Stop, you bastard!"

My shout startled them. Brian turned to me, his face twisting into an ugly scowl.

This wasn't the first time Brian and his gang targeted me. They'd tried to beat me before but ended up beaten themselves. After that, they left me alone—or so I thought. Secretly, Brian had been plotting revenge.

Before he could speak, I charged, kicking him hard in the chest.

"Oof—" He gasped for air. I didn't let him recover. My fist slammed into his nose.

*"Crack!"* Blood gushed as his nose broke. His gang lunged at me mindlessly.

"*Hmph*—" I scoffed, swinging my leg into the nearest thug before tackling the rest.

............

I stood in the alley, surrounded by groaning boys.

Ignoring them, I turned to Sam, who stared in shock.

"Let's go. I don't want to be any later," I said, heading toward the exit.

"O-okay," he stammered, scrambling to follow.

"You'll regret this, Michael! Sooner or later—you'll regret it!" Brian's threat echoed behind me. I ignored him, leaving him clutching his broken nose, teeth gritted in fury.

"Th-thank you," Sam stuttered, glancing around nervously as if expecting a sneak attack.

"I didn't do it for you," I replied, slowing my pace.

"Huh? Wh-what do you mean?"

Seeing his confusion, I stopped and looked at him.

"If I didn't stop them today, they'd keep harassing me in secret. I'm not scared of them, but dealing with their crap would've been annoying. Understand?"

I walked off before he could respond.

We spent the rest of the walk in silence before parting ways.

"I'm home."

"Where the hell have you been?!"

I turned to the speaker—a brown-haired woman with dark eyes, looking youthful for her forties. Beside her stood two boys and a girl around my age, carbon copies of her.

"Don't ignore me! Look at me when I'm talking!" she snapped.

I met her glare. "There were extra classes today. Sorry I forgot to tell you… Aunt Christina."

"*Hmph*— We already ate. Your uncle Arnold left barely any leftovers, so you'll sleep without dinner tonight," Christina said, storming into the living room. Her children smirked before following.

My parents died long ago in a car accident while rushing to the hospital—my mother was in labor. I was the sole survivor, just six years old. I'd forgotten their faces; there were no photos left to remember them.

As I lay in a hospital bed, a man named Arnold saw me. Hearing my story and that I had no relatives, he took pity and adopted me.

Despite my good behavior and academic efforts, they made life hard. Even Arnold pretended not to notice.

'Just endure a little longer, Michael. Soon, you'll never see them again.'

I calmed myself as I headed upstairs to my room—a plain space with a bed, a small desk, and a closet. I lay down and pulled out a book from under my pillow: *Fragments of an Unfinished Story*.

I'd discovered this novel six months ago and became addicted, buying every new volume.

The story was set in a world where humans, jinn, and other races coexisted peacefully—until demons and alien beings threatened their world. It followed a hero gathering allies to save the planet.

To some, it might seem cliché, but to me, it was deeper—especially its peculiar title: *Fragments of an Unfinished Story*.

I read until sleep overtook me, blissfully unaware that tomorrow would become my worst nightmare.

............

**[Author's Note]**

*Thank you for reading! Share your thoughts and suggestions in the comments.*

*Have a wonderful day! :)*