Soon, the two ascended to the third floor.

  Despite the profound intimacy of their friendship, Cairn did not remain to lodge this time;

  he only ascended to partake of some water, for the atmosphere was exceedingly stifling.

  All he desired was a draught of water.

  Thus, Elian asked his sister, Ella, to bring a bottle of water, and after a brief interval, Cairn had departed, leaving Elian to enter the silent house and bolt the doors upon that somber residence.

  He had not partaken of any sustenance since yesterday, and they had not yet prepared a meal in the house.

  The effects of this began to manifest in his vision, as a subtle vertigo started to infiltrate his perception.

  It was Ella’s turn to cook today, so while he waited for her to prepare the meal, he decided to go and conclude his assignments.

  ------------------------------------------

  In the tranquil room, the sound of the pen moving swiftly across the paper could be heard, accompanied by the voice of a university lecturer explaining an electronic subject.

  Elian had commenced his studies some time ago and was now sufficiently immersed to temporarily forget the pangs of hunger and concentrate on his lessons.

  But a discordant voice from outside interrupted him.

  " Elian, come and cook! "

  He had barely been studying for an hour when his mother began shouting at him to cook, which ignited his resentment.

  " But it’s my sister’s turn to cook today! Why do I have to do it instead of her? I’m busy! "

  In a sound and logical manner, he expressed his most basic rights while reminding his mother that he was not supposed to cook today.

  However, his words were met with a foul reception...

  *BANG!* The bedroom door was thrust open with terrifying force as a large woman entered the room, obstructing its exit, and began shouting in a rage.

  " Stop this stupidity and listen to what I say, you wretch!

  You know your sister cannot cook.

  Look at the charred food in the kitchen!

  How long will you continue to let the food burn under the pretext that it is your sister’s turn?

  You must be obedient and come to cook this instant! "

  This woman, gesticulating wildly, was Elian’s mother.

  She was waving her left hand back and forth, screaming at him in fury, while holding a glass of water in her right hand—seemingly having been in the kitchen to drink.

  Perhaps Elian had finally reached his limit, for he replied, feeling as though he were about to lose his composure:

  " And how is it my fault if she doesn’t know how to cook?! Why don’t you cook yourself if you’re so responsible? "

  " Curse you! "

  Immediately after his mother shrieked this, she suddenly raised the glass cup in her hand and hurled it with force at Elian’s face—only for it to strike him, and his face began to drip with fresh blood, the color of pomegranate juice.

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  " I don’t know why God afflicted me with a crippled son like you, humph! "

  After more mounting reprimands and a feeling of rage, brokenness, and a cocktail of frustration,

  Elian hurried to the kitchen once his mother had cleared the way for him.

  ' No, I won’t talk back to her. I won’t be disobedient or mistreat my mother.

  I am better than that.

  It’s fine... I just have to cook lunch again today. '

  Perhaps Elian consoled himself by saying it was no problem, but deep within, he was the one who felt the magnitude of the pain in his heart—which soon began to affect his thoughts and vision.

  Why was he the only one who suffered?

  Why did his mother favor and love the rest of his siblings while treating him like a slave?

  Why did his brother, who was not yet ten years old, receive such treatment—to the extent that if he set out to kill Elian, his mother would not object?

  Why did his sister not partake in the domestic burdens?

  He did not mind performing many household tasks as the man of the house, for it was natural for many burdens to fall upon his shoulders.

  But his sister did not participate at all in assisting him within the home.

  He was always the one working on her behalf, since she was clumsy in domestic duties and spoiled everything.

  While he was conversing with himself internally, his train of thought was interrupted by his brother’s irritating voice coming from outside the kitchen.

  " Hahaha, Elian, I saw you! Whatcha doin' in the room? Mom told you to cook! "

  ' What is this fool babbling about?

  He must be talking to himself in an attempt to incite my mother’s rage to quarrel with me again. '

  Elian looked through the kitchen door.

  The sun was setting, but since his family was exceedingly slothful, none of them had bothered to turn on the light, making some areas of the house secluded from sunlight—becoming a darkness similar to what one might find in a house of horrors.

  Yet, despite this, and because he was accustomed to this house—or perhaps due to his keen eyesight—with the little light streaming toward the hallway,

  he could see a bit of the corridor with the few sunbeams that still lingered.

  Even his brother, who was talking to himself, Elian could see standing in front of his room with the door open, laughing his usual repulsive laugh while talking to himself.

  ' But none of this is my concern. '

  Elian looked at the stove and ensured it was lit with the pot of food atop it.

  Then he exited the kitchen, heading to the bathroom to wipe the blood from his face.

  He wasn't bleeding much, thank God; the injury was superficial.

  As for why he hadn't wiped the blood until now?

  He simply wanted his family to care for him, even if only a little.

  To see that he was injured and show him some mercy.

  But there was no life in those he called upon; thus, realizing the futility of his pathetic plan, he headed to the bathroom to wash his face under the water.

  It might seem pathetic at first glance.

  But he had no choice but to try.

  *Splash... Splash...* *Fsssssssss...* The sound of blood droplets mingled with the water flowing from the faucet, which submerged Elian’s entire head.

  Elian loved bathing; he always felt that the water covered him and isolated him from his worries and the world.

  Thus, whenever he was burdened without the opportunity to bathe, he would settle for merely immersing his head in the water.

  Like an ignited car engine requiring cooling.

  Of course, this is not a truly suitable metaphor, for if you were to try this in reality, if the engine didn't explode in your face, it would surely be ruined.

  But the idea hit home, and currently, in the chill of the party concerned, he wasn't really in the mood for thinking.

  He was finally enjoying rare moments of silence and tranquility, free from the thoughts that ravaged his mind.

  Closing his eyes and drowning out the surrounding noise, Elian pushed his head into the sink—which he had already plugged so that he could fully submerge his head under the water—listening to the surrounding sounds.

  'Fsssssssss...

  'Shhhhh...

  " Aaaa-aaaa-ah... M-mom-aaa... H-he#lp m$e... M^om-a... "

  !!