Volume 2.
____ ___ _
"Your father left you because you were useless."
"How can you be so useless?! Why didn't you do anything I told you?"
Two towering silhouettes loomed over me, their facial outlines barely visible through writhing black fog. No faces, no names. Just twisted mouths and raised hands — always shouting, always demanding.
"What are you good for, huh? Just breathing and being a burden?"
"You should've never been born."
The voices echoed—layered, distorted, as if spat from every direction. My head was bowed, arms too thin, knees scraped. I stood there as a child, not understanding what I'd done wrong — only that their words always left bruises deeper than fists.
The scene twisted.
Now a classroom. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. My desk was surrounded.
"Look at ***,"
"Ugly freak."
"Why are we even in the same class as ***?"
"Dead eyes. Bet you're cursed."
"Hey ***! Buy me lunch today."
"Yeah, and clean my shoes too, freak. That's all you're good for."
