Bad Levi Crazy Levi

At 11 years old, Levi had grown into a lean frame, his dark skin glistening with sweat under the midday sun. He stood at the edge of the dusty field, watching the other kids chase after a worn-out football, their laughter and shouts echoing through the neighborhood.

He used to play with them once—before they started avoiding him. Before they started calling him crazy.

Now, he just stood there, pretending he wasn't interested.

Then, it happened again.

The square flickered into existence, floating just inches from his face.

Unlike before, when it would randomly appear and block his vision, Levi had finally learned to control it—somewhat. He could summon and dismiss it at will.

At first, it was just a box.

Now, it was a translucent, square-like screen.

And now, it displayed text.

SYSTEM BOOTING…

The same message. The same blinking text. It had been like this since his 10th birthday.

No matter how many times he stared at it.

No matter how many times he willed it to do something.

It never changed.

He had tried touching it—his fingers passed right through.

He had tried speaking to it—it remained unresponsive.

He had even once, in desperation, punched at the air in front of him, earning confused looks from a nearby shopkeeper.

Nothing worked.

And yet, it followed him. A silent presence, always on the edge of his vision if he lost concentration, always there when he was alone.

Levi let out a small sigh and forced himself to look away from the screen, and it disappeared. He turned his attention back to the game.

He hated how much it separated him from the others.

And most of all, he hated that, deep down, some part of him wanted to know what would happen when the system finally finished booting.

The worn-out football bounced awkwardly against the cracked pavement, rolling to a stop right at Levi's feet.

He stared down at it, his fingers twitching slightly.

The kids playing the game had stopped, their eyes locked on him as they walked over, the usual sneers already forming on their faces.

The boy in front, a chubby kid with a torn jersey and a smug grin, picked up the ball and looked Levi up and down like he was something disgusting stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

"You should stop spreading your evil around here," the boy spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

Levi remained silent, his hands curling into fists.

"My mum told me it's because your mum is a prostitute," the boy continued, his grin widening as he saw the way Levi's body tensed ever so slightly. "That's why the gods cursed you. That's why you're haunted."

The laughter came almost instantly.

It was cruel and mocking, echoing in Levi's ears as the other kids pointed at him, their faces full of amusement.

Levi was used to it.

He was used to the taunts. Used to the insults. Used to the way they spoke about his mother like she was nothing.

The first time he fought back, he got beaten so badly that he spent the night curled up in pain, too ashamed to let his mother see his bruises.

The second time, he learned that no matter how many times he hit back, there were always more of them.

So, he stopped reacting.

He just stared at them now, his face unreadable, before turning away as they resumed their game.

They could say whatever they wanted.

They could laugh all they wanted.

"Owen," Levi called out, his voice carrying just enough amusement to sound casual.

The chubby, tall, light-skinned boy, who had been kicking the ball lazily, looked up with an irritated sneer. "What do you want, crazy boy?"

Levi ignored the insult, his eyes focused on the flickering square hovering in front of him. "I'm seeing the floating box again. There are words on it this time."

Owen crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. "Oh yeah? And what do they say?"

A smirk played on Levi's lips as he turned to Owen, his expression unreadable. "It says… a fat, tall boy will die while playing."

The laughter and chatter among the other kids died instantly.

Owen's smirk faltered for a split second, then returned in a forced, nervous way. "You're lying."

Levi shrugged. "My grandma told me this could be a gift—that maybe I can see the future. And guess what? You're the only fat, tall boy here."

A cold shiver ran down Owen's spine.

He forced a laugh, but it came out awkward and thin. "Pfft, you expect me to believe that?" he scoffed, but his voice lacked its usual confidence.

Levi tilted his head, his smirk widening. "I don't care what you believe. If you die, that's on you. Maybe a zombie will bite you."

That was enough to make Owen's face drain of color.

His bravado crumbled, and he took a step back, suddenly looking around as if expecting something to lunge at him from the shadows. "Screw this," he muttered, his voice shaking. "I'm going home."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and hurried away, his large frame moving surprisingly fast.

The rest of the kids, who had been silently watching, exchanged uneasy glances before following suit, muttering excuses and leaving one by one.

Levi stood there alone, the echo of his own laughter bouncing off the empty street.

It wasn't often that he got the last laugh.

And damn, it felt good.

That evening, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sharp, piercing voice of a woman echoed through the neighborhood.

Levi's mother, exhausted from her shift and still in her worn-out work uniform, let out a tired sigh. She had barely stepped through the door when the commotion reached her ears.

Curious and mildly annoyed, she set down her bag and made her way outside.

What she saw made her frown deepen.

Standing outside their small home was Owen's mother, a plump woman with wild, frizzy hair, her face twisted in rage. Her loud screeching filled the air as she clutched Owen, who stood beside her, his wrist wrapped in a makeshift sling.

Levi peeked outside from behind his mother, blinking in surprise. Owen's face was red, both from embarrassment and barely held-in tears. His swollen wrist suggested he had either fallen badly or landed wrong while trying to break his fall.

"You!" Owen's mother snarled, pointing a trembling finger at Levi. "Your crazy son did this! This is exactly what I was talking about!"

Levi's mother, already drained from the day, pinched the bridge of her nose. "What happened?" she asked, her voice firm but controlled.

"He scared my son half to death!" Owen's mother shrieked. "Filled his head with nonsense! He ran home like a madman and fell! Look at his wrist! He could have broken it!"

Levi, who had been standing silently, crossed his arms. "I was just having fun," he muttered, eyes flicking toward Owen, who refused to meet his gaze.

His mother's frown deepened. "Levi," she said in a warning tone.

With an exaggerated sigh, Levi turned to Owen and muttered, "Sorry."

Owen's mother, still fuming, scoffed. "That's it? That's all you're gonna say? That little monster should be put on a leash! He's a danger to everyone!"

Levi's mother stiffened. For a brief second, the exhaustion on her face was replaced by something sharp. Something dangerous.

"You think my son is the problem?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm.

Owen's mother hesitated but doubled down. "Yes! That boy—"

"My boy is six," Levi's mother interrupted, her voice cold. "And your son is older, bigger, and stronger. But because he got scared and ran like a fool, you want to blame mine?"

Owen's mother opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Don't come to my house screaming again," Levi's mother added before grabbing Levi's hand and pulling him back inside.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Levi looked up at his mother, expecting her to scold him. Instead, she just sighed, rubbing her temples.

"Levi," she muttered. "What am I going to do with you?"

As Levi lay in bed late at night, the rhythmic rise and fall of his mother's voice seeped through the thin walls of their modest home. Her words, tender yet heavy with sorrow, reached his ears as she sat by his father's bedside, speaking to the unconscious man who had once been her steadfast companion.

She whispered, her voice trembling, "I don't know how much longer I can bear this weight alone. The bills keep piling up, and we need so much. I feel like I'm drowning, and you're not here to help me."

Levi's heart ached at the sound of her distress, but his young mind struggled to grasp the depth of her despair. He shifted uncomfortably under his covers, wishing he could do something—anything—to ease her burden.

Eventually, his eyes grew heavy, and without realizing it, he drifted into sleep.