4. The Last Breath

Ethan lay still. His broken body was stretched out on the cold rotting floor of the old dormitory. The air smelled like blood. It was thick and sharp. It mixed with the dust and mold that stuck to the old forgotten walls. It was his blood. It leaked from his cuts. It made a pool under him. It soaked into his torn clothes.

He breathed in short weak gasps. Every breath hurt his ribs. Every breath felt like the last one. His fingers moved a little. They were weak and numb. His eyes were blurry. The sides of his vision were turning black like spilled ink.

He was dying.

Alone.

Forgotten.

The laughter was gone now. The footsteps were far away.

They had left him there.

Like trash.

Like he was nothing.

Ethan's mind floated in and out. Sometimes he was awake. Sometimes he was not. He did not know how long it had been. Minutes. Hours. He could not tell anymore.

But the pain kept him here. It kept him in this awful place.

His ribs hurt each time he moved. His face was swollen. His right eye could barely open. His lip was torn. He could still taste blood. His hands were scratched and bleeding. His left wrist felt broken. His legs. He could not feel them at all.

Was this how he would die.

Left alone in a place no one visited.

Would someone find him.

Would anyone care.

A cold wind came through the cracked windows. It made his body shake. The night air felt like ice on his skin. He felt small. He felt weak. It was like the world was swallowing him.

Maybe it was.

Maybe this was what life wanted for him.

Maybe he was never meant to live.

His eyes felt heavy. His chest moved up and down in slow shaky breaths. The dark around him called to him. It felt soft and easy.

Just let go. That was what the dark said. Letting go would be easy.

Yes. Maybe it would be.

No more pain.

No more fear.

No more being alone.

But then—

A voice.

It was soft. It was warm. It felt kind.

"My sweet boy… you must always be strong"

Ethan gasped. His lips shook.

It was his mother's voice.

"No matter how dark the world gets… you must never give up"

A sob came from his throat. It was soft. It was broken. His mother. She was gone. She had been gone for so long. But he could still hear her voice. It was clear. It was real. It was holding him through the pain.

"You are not weak Ethan"

But was that true.

Wasn't that why this kept happening.

Wasn't that why they never stopped hurting him.

Tears ran down his bloody face. They mixed with the dirt and blood on his skin.

"You are stronger than you know my love"

He wanted to believe her.

He really did.

But belief meant nothing when he was lying in his own blood waiting to die.

He tried to move. He tried to lift his arm. But pain screamed through him. He stayed still. A soft sound came from him.

He was too weak.

He had always been too weak.

And they had always known it.

Damian. Marcus. Logan.

Their faces stayed in his mind. They laughed while they hurt him. They never stopped. They never cared.

His stomach turned. His fingers pressed weakly into the cold floor.

Why.

Why did they get to walk away.

Why did they get to be happy. To be strong. To live like they did nothing wrong.

Why was he the one who suffered.

The one who always suffered.

A fire started to burn in his chest. It was small. It was weak. But it was there.

It was not fair.

It was not fair that they laughed while he bled.

It was not fair that they got to walk away. That they were never afraid. That no one stopped them.

It was not fair that they would do this again. Again and again.

That was the truth. Wasn't it.

Even if he lived through this. Even if someone found him and took him to the hospital.

They would come back.

They would hurt him again.

Because they could.

Because no one stopped them.

Because no one cared.

His lips opened. A shaky breath came out. His body begged to rest. To be done.

But his heart.

His heart still burned.

It was slow. It was weak. But it was still beating.

It was still trying.

If he had power.

If he had strength.

He would never let this happen again.

He would never be weak again.

His fingers dug into the wood. Weak but full of purpose. His breath shook as it came in and out.

If he lived—

If he made it through this night—

He would make them pay.

He would make them feel what he felt.

The darkness got heavier. It pressed on him. It wrapped around him like a blanket. The cold reached into his bones. It touched his soul.

His heartbeat slowed.

His sight faded.

But in the last moments—

As the world slipped away. As his body gave up.

He made a wish.

A last hope. A final cry.

"Let me live"

"Let me fight"

"Let me make them suffer the way I have suffered"

And then—

The last breath left his mouth.

His body stopped moving.

His heartbeat—

Stopped.

Silence.

A long still silence.

The old dormitory stayed quiet. Wrapped in the stillness of the night.

The wind moved through the broken walls. It touched the glass. It carried the smell of blood.

Ethan's body lay still. It was covered in moonlight. It was cold. It looked like it had no life.

And then—

Something changed.

Something moved.

It was not something you could see.

It was like the air shifted. Like something old had woken up.

Something hungry.

The darkness did not take Ethan.

It answered him.