Marlow

After escaping from the orphanage on that cold night, I found myself running aimlessly through the streets. Freedom was a strange feeling, a mixture of exhilaration and fear.

I didn't know where to go or what to do. The first few days were like a nightmare, searching for food in garbage cans and sleeping in dark alleys, hiding from prying eyes.

I quickly learned how to survive. Stealing became my only profession.

I watched people, studied their movements, and snatched what I could with lightning speed.

Then I ran with all my might, slipping through the crowds and hiding in narrow alleys. The streets became my home, and the winding alleys my sleeping place. Every day was a struggle for survival, a battle against hunger, cold, and fear.

I felt like a frightened mouse, running constantly, afraid of every shadow and every sound. My only concern was to find something to fill my stomach and protect me from the cruelty of the night.

However, every escape route led me to a new trap.

That is how I ended up in the clutches of justice. On that cold night, I woke up to the rough grip of a police officer shaking me violently as I lay asleep on the street like a corpse. At first, I didn't realize what was happening, but I quickly remembered that my deep sleep was nothing but an illusion and that every corner of the city could turn into a trap. My limbs froze from the cold, and my muscles stiffened from the exhaustion that had built up over months of running. I was dragged mercilessly into a police car, then to a center that reeked of despair, before being thrown back into the orphanage, that miserable place that resembled the grave where my hopes had been buried for the thousandth time.

There, between the cold walls and the pale faces of the other children, I realized that Lady Luck, if she existed, had completely abandoned me.

Perhaps you are tired of my pathetic story, a story of endless misery and loss, and feel as disgusted with me as I feel with myself. Every corner of that place held painful memories: from the screams of the supervisors to the meals that barely satisfied my hunger, to the days I spent in bed with painful fractures after my desperate attempts to die.

But after a few days, something unexpected happened. I was suddenly adopted by an extremely wealthy family, as if they had appeared out of nowhere, coming from another world. The man was a skilled and renowned surgeon with mesmerizing green eyes and shiny blond hair that fell to his shoulders. He seemed kind, but behind his mask of kindness, there was a strange coldness in his eyes. He wasn't just a surgeon, he was a well-known figure. As for his wife, she was beautiful in every sense of the word, with blue eyes as clear as the spring sky, soft brown hair that fell like silk over her shoulders, and a body that was perfect in every way, but she lacked warmth, her gaze as cold as ice despite her captivating beauty.

Their outward appearance screamed perfection, but my instincts, honed by years on the streets, told me that something was wrong, that something dark lurked behind those fake smiles and fancy clothes. But let's get back to the story, as the description may lead me into endless mazes of intrigue and evil, and I may lose track of the real story.

As I was saying, after the adoption, I discovered that they were extremely wealthy, with palaces fit for kings, luxury cars, and a life of extravagance, but behind all this glitz and glamour, they had a serious problem: they couldn't have children. So they thought of adopting a miserable child like me to fill the void in their lives, or so it seemed to me at first.

Oh, I forgot to mention my short stature, which was always a source of embarrassment to me; I looked like a 12-year-old even though I was 14. This luxurious mansion was nothing but a new prison for me, but this time it was a prison decorated with silk and gold, its locks hidden behind the glitz of wealth.

After settling into my new family, I spent most of my time in my luxurious room, which was larger than the entire orphanage, playing video games with passion, and trying to immerse myself in virtual worlds where I could forget my bitter reality. There I met Marlow, the twelve-year-old son of the surgeon's beautiful wife. Marlow was sick and bedridden most of the time, his face pale and his smile faint. Marlow had been in a terrible accident that had seriously damaged his heart, and he needed a donor as soon as possible. But where would they find someone willing to give up their heart? Who would sacrifice their heart for a strange boy? This question haunted me, but I didn't know the answer yet. Marlow was my only companion, spending long hours playing with me. The faint smile on his face was the only glimmer of hope in that big house that lacked real warmth.

I spent more than five months in that house, five months living in luxury I had never dreamed of. At that time, I thought that luck had smiled on me again and decided to take pity on my miserable life. I thought I had finally found a place where I belonged. But once again, I was foolishly mistaken. Luck does not smile on me; it deceives me and traps me in its web.

After five months of living with a wealthy family, five months of false comfort, and illusory security, I discovered the bitter truth that awaited me in the shadows. I discovered that they ran a dirty human organ trafficking ring, a trade that knew no mercy or compassion. Only then did I understand the real purpose of my adoption, that their care for me was nothing but a deceptive mask hiding a monster lying in wait for me. I knew that he had adopted me and continued to care for me with false affection, not out of love, but to pave the way to take my heart and offer it to that son of a bitch Marlow. I was nothing but a "spare part" to them.

At that moment, the luxurious palace turned into a prison, and the kind faces turned into masks of monsters. I tried to escape, running with all my might, running and running through the rooms and corridors, my heart pounding violently as if it wanted to leave my body before it was torn out of me by force. But the handsome surgeon caught me easily. He was faster and stronger than I had imagined. I remember that moment well. His face was expressionless, like a marble statue. I was hiding a rusty knife behind my back that I had found in the kitchen, but it was sharp enough to cut the arteries. When he approached me and embraced me with false tenderness, his embrace was like a death grip, and he whispered sweet words in my ear, justifying his actions with claims of love, saying that what I had discovered was nothing but illusions resulting from childhood trauma. I plunged the knife into his neck! Yes! That bastard never expected to be stabbed by a child with such brutality and coldness. His green eyes narrowed in shock and pain before the life drained from them, and he fell to the floor like a broken doll, leaving a pool of blood slowly spreading across the luxurious carpet.