Not long after,
the whole family gathered around the dinner table.
The old wooden table was filled with the aroma of food—steamed rice, boiled beans in a sweet-salty sauce, and at the center...meat pie, made by his mother.
No one said much. Everyone just served themselves quietly and began eating.
The old TV in the corner softly played the news, the female reporter's voice barely audible through the speakers:
"...Human body parts have been found again in the forest near Highway 23, west of the city..."
"...Authorities have yet to identify the victims, but believe the cases are linked to several disappearances in recent months..."
Billy's spoon froze in midair.
No one mentioned the news.
Uncle Devin chuckled softly while serving himself another piece of pie.
"Your mother's getting better—this pie tastes… pretty good."
His mother gave a faint smile, saying nothing, her eyes fixed on her plate.
Billy's father glanced at the TV briefly before speaking.
"This kind of news is happening way too often now…"
"People these days don't know how to watch their backs…"
No one responded.
Billy slowly ate the pie on his plate.
The taste was salty and rich — while the TV continued reporting:
"...An 18-year-old boy disappeared two days ago near the southern farm area..."
"...The fifth missing person this month..."
No one in the house looked at each other.
The soft clinking of spoons against plates became the main sound in the room.
And the day ended with the usual suffocating silence.
After dinner, Uncle Devin left quietly with only the words "See you again"—which sounded more like a threat than a farewell.
Billy was about to walk upstairs to his room.
But he heard quiet voices, making him stop.
He glanced down toward the dark corner of the kitchen.
His father and mother were talking.
He was too far to catch the words clearly.
Billy turned his face away.
He didn't want to know.
He was too tired for today.
He quietly closed his door and collapsed onto his bed, letting exhaustion slowly seep out of him.
Monday morning
Though nothing special, Monday was the best day for Billy — because it meant leaving home.
He dressed and headed to school in town.
There, he met the two most important people in his life right now.
Miles — a skinny dark-skinned boy, with bruises scattered across his arms. He was a joker, always telling awkward jokes.
Jenna — a girl with messy hair and oversized glasses, who spoke roughly but somehow, to Billy, her words sounded better than anyone at home.
The three usually sat in the same corner of the cafeteria.
"Yesterday at dinner, I found a hair from my mom's head in the food," Jenna complained."It's kind of weird, but I think it's better than the school food."
Miles added while chewing gum.
"You don't know anything, Miles. My mom's cooking sucks."
"My dad likes to pretend he buys food from outside, or says he ate at work."
Billy gave a faint smile — maybe the first in days.
"What about you, Billy? Your family raises cows or pigs, right?You must get good food all the time."
Jenna looked at Billy and asked.
"It's just the same old stuff. My mom doesn't cook much. Mostly pies or soups."
Billy said, looking unsure.
"At least it's better than my grandma's cooking."
Jenna replied, annoyed.
The three of them then walked to class.
Inside, there were quite a few students, all chatting about what they did over the holidays, making Billy think about farm life.
He didn't want to hear other teens' happy stories at all. He felt jealous — because he knew deep down that none of those things would ever happen to him.
Every time a classmate talked about trips to the beach, small house parties, or just shopping with family, Billy wanted to cover his ears, as if their voices hurt him.Those sounds reminded him that he would never escape the life he never chose.
He once imagined running away from home on a night when his dad was heavily drunk and the house was too quiet—running out wearing only stained clothes, old shoes, without looking back even once…What would his life be like?
Would anyone hire him if he knocked on a convenience store door, or asked a movie theater worker, "Hey, do you have a part-time job?"
Would he have a home? Or would he have to sleep under a bridge like his mother warned?
But even so, it was better — better than sitting on the farm, scooping cow dung, feeding pigs.
Enduring the shouting of people who never saw him as their son in a house filled with the stench of filth and secrets—a house where the word "love" no longer existed.
He wanted to break free. To finally live a life he truly owned, not just be an animal on his father's farm.
And that's why he hated the laughter of his classmates, hated the joyful voices around him—because every time he heard them, it was like a warning that he would never have that.
While Billy was lost in his thoughts,
he suddenly realized it was already lunchtime. Jenna and Miles seemed to have been waiting for this moment for a long time.
Lunch break.
Billy, Jenna, and Miles walked through the school hallway as usual.
But today felt different.
A faint, raspy animal cry reached the three of them.
A cat's meow—dry, like it was about to die.
"Wait, what's that?" Jenna said, then ran toward a corner of the building.
"In the trash bin!" Miles pointed.
Billy followed quietly.
What they found was a small gray cat, so skinny its ribs showed.
It was stuck inside a plastic trash bin filled with rotten food scraps. Something heavy pressed down on its hind leg.
"We have to get it to the teacher. It'll die otherwise."
But before they could move,
a loud laugh came from behind.
"Hey, losers... what are you staring at?"
"That's the cow dung kid, huh? Now you're picking up cat crap?"
Dylan and his gang approached, looking at the kitten.
Miles stood up immediately.
"Step back. We're just trying to help."
"Help? Ha ha ha."
Dylan laughed and stepped closer.
Then he kicked the trash bin hard, sending the lid smashing into the little cat's body.
A high-pitched screech came from the kitten.
"Shit…"
"You guys see that? I kicked it perfectly."
"I don't get why the school soccer team hasn't called me yet."
Billy rushed to hug the kitten on the ground.
He knew he couldn't stop Dylan from hurting the cat.
"Don't touch it…"
His voice was soft, like a breeze.
Jenna moved to block but was shoved down, her glasses flying off several meters away.
Miles tried to intervene but was pushed hard against the wall and pinned down by Dylan's crew.
And then it happened…
Dylan snatched the kitten from Billy's arms in a flash.
Its cries became even louder—before muffling under the hand of the gun shop owner's son.
"Stop, you bastard! Don't do it!" Jenna shouted behind Dylan.
Jenna and Miles screamed at the top of their lungs to stop Dylan.
"Have you ever seen a kitten's head explode?""I'm about to show you…"
Dylan said excitedly, as if feeling nothing.
He lifted the cat above his head,
and slammed it down on the concrete with a loud "thud!"
Blood splattered across the ground, bones cracking so loud it rang in Billy's ears.
The kitten's head was crushed, its brains scattered everywhere.
Jenna screamed… Miles lunged forward, but it was too late.
Blood slowly dripped from the kitten's head into the trash bin filled with food scraps, the coppery smell mixed with rotten stench making Billy want to vomit.
"Damn... it died easier than the frogs in biology class."
Dylan looked at his three friends.
Then Dylan laughed. His friends laughed.
But not everyone laughed.
Billy sat still, blood staining his long-sleeve shirt… his hands trembling… eyes wide open.
No sound—only silence.
Dylan walked away, their laughter echoing behind him.
Leaving the three kids there.
After that, no one said a word.
No cries. No blame.
Only heavy footsteps of the three as they walked down the hall
heading to the cafeteria.
Some people glanced at them now and then, maybe because Jenna was dusty or Billy's shirt was stained dark red.But no one asked.
As if the terrible had become part of everyday life.
The cafeteria buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the clatter of trays—but for them, it was meaningless background noise.
They found their usual table in the corner.
Today's school lunch was warmed corn, bland soup, and… a large slice of meat pie.
No one spoke as they served food onto their trays.
Jenna ate slowly, head down.
Miles stirred his soup absentmindedly.
Billy… stared at the pie.
Not blinking. Not moving his hand.
As if the pie in front of him held him captive.
Its smell… sharp in his nose.
The same smell as last night…
Like the kitchen. Like the blood of the kitten.
Like something that shouldn't be eaten…
"I can't believe…" Jenna's voice finally broke the silence.
"That someone like Dylan could do something like that…"
Miles didn't speak, but his brows furrowed tightly.
"Did you guys catch the news yesterday?" Jenna asked quietly."They found human finger fragments… real fingers… behind the supermarket."
Billy didn't answer… he still stared at the pie.
His face seemed deep in thought—or maybe he wasn't thinking at all.
"I think… whoever did it has to be psychotic. But not my mom," Miles said, still joking."Probably some killer collecting body parts."
Jenna nodded.
"The scary part is, the police don't know anything yet... People keep disappearing, swallowed up like they were never there."
Billy reached out and lightly touched the edge of the pie, his fingertip sinking into the filling.Warm… sticky… dark red.
He slowly pulled his finger out and looked at it, then whispered without realizing it:
"It's no different at all…"
Jenna looked at him.
"What did you say?"
Billy looked up, startled but smiled faintly.
"Nothing... it's nothing…"
He stabbed the pie with his fork and slowly took the first bite.
The taste was the same as always.
The same… but today, it felt heavier.