Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real places, names, or events is purely coincidental. If you are experiencing physical violence or abuse, please contact your local emergency hotline for help.

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2019, Breathe 

Chapter 1

I wish I had died without them knowing. Then maybe…just maybe…my life wouldn’t be too painful. A tear slipped from the corners of his eyes. The air smelled of sterility, too clean, almost suffocating. Each breath came out shallow, clogged and strained. He woke up wrecked in a hospital bed.  

A nurse was changing his IV fluids. His plum-colored, swollen eyes shifted to the right. There, he thought with a tormented stare. 

What did I even expect? He lifted back his eyes to the ceiling. For them to come and feel sorry for me? And to endure their words of humiliation for having such a stupid son? He couldn’t even clench his fists, lying hopelessly. Fuck! His jaw tightened, choking his throat with anger. The nurse had just left. She might have thought he was sleeping. 

He groaned under his breath. Even the thought of moving felt useless. His lips were dry, and thirst sat heavy on his tongue. He tried to swallow, but it was too painful to bear. All he could do was lie in silence and cry. 

He was nineteen. He had thought that moving to a new city and enrolling in a prestigious school would change things for the better and make him happy. But…it hadn’t. 

Enduring not only their mockery but also the pain they caused him for asking for money was cruel enough to push him to the brink of death. 

His parents weren't poor, but he was a victim of their so-called hazing. His teacher didn't even bother to help him. Not even the classmate he thought was a friend stayed by his side; they chose to save their own face. Even his colleagues ignored his plea, and he felt utterly hopeless. Yet, he tried to hold onto that life, but they pushed him to his limits. And now? He suffered more than he expected. 

He tried to open his eyes a little more. It was blurry and too painful. Despite his aching heart, he felt a strange ease―saved to face another life, to endure once again. 

A couple of hours later, unfed and parched, he kept swallowing, tears dripping down from the corners of his eyes as he pressed his lips shut, sobbing quietly. He didn’t want to give up. If there was one thing he wished for…it was to leave school and move far away from his parents. 

He’d had enough. 

And…he just wanted to live. 

Softly, the door creaked open. A tall man peered into his room. He was dressed all in black. Unable to see well, he guessed it was their family driver. A cool wind drifted through the doorway, carrying a muffled sound of people conversing in the hallway as the door gently closed behind the man. 

“Young sir, Liam,” his voice sounded calm. Though Liam couldn’t see the driver’s face clearly, he could sense the worry from him. 

“An...ton,” Laim struggled to speak, groaning. His neck bore the marks of strangulation. Anton felt sorry for him, balling his fists in frustration. The vertical blinds on the windows were slightly open, letting a ray of sunlight fall over the bed’s blanket. 

“Young sir, Liam, you don’t need to speak. Madam asked me to come here to tell you something,” He said calmly. He looked nonchalant, but beneath it, he was deeply distraught. What kind of parents would leave their son alone in the hospital, physically and emotionally ruined? Anton thought angrily. He couldn’t fathom how heartless the young sir’s parents were. All they cared about was fame, nothing else.

Anton was in his thirties. Though unmarried, he had five siblings to look after, and he had never once in his life abandoned them. Of course, they were poor, and living from rock bottom had never been easy. If it hadn’t been for his uncle, the gardener of the young sir’s mansion, he would never have been able to cope with the cruel world. 

Seething with anger, his chest tightened. He had watched Liam become the face of torment. He couldn’t stand up to Liam’s peers, as they came from powerful families. All he could do was assist the helpless young sir. Crusted tears glued Liam’s swollen eyelids together, the pain making it almost impossible to open them. He wanted to say something, but Anton spoke first. 

“Madam said that once you recover, I must accompany you to Suffolk. That’s where her aunt resides―your great-aunt.” Anton said. His eyes were cast down, ashamed to even look at Liam. Not out of disgust. He knew that if they locked eyes, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from feeling pity for the young sir’s condition. 

“Madam also said that it would be a better place for you to recuperate while you’re away,” Anton’s jaw tightened; he gritted his teeth, holding back the bitter words rising to his lips. “And your father…he is on a business trip, and may not be able to see you off when you leave for Suffolk,” he added. His blood boiled in silence.