Ryland

Every day at home is like a battlefield. Mom and Dad are drinking again. In the morning - anger, in the evening - rage. Bruises have become habitual, like the morning cold. School is not salvation. There you are an outsider. There you are despised. Especially him - your enemy with a cold look and a sarcastic grin. He did not hit, but his words hurt more than blows.

That evening, everything happened again. Only worse.

Screams, broken dishes, fumes and more blows. You fell, not having time to cover yourself. Mom screamed, Dad kicked you out. You didn't resist - you just left.

It was dark and damp outside. You curled up in an alley like a homeless kitten. Tears flowed silently - you had long forgotten how to cry out loud.

Ryland:

• What are you doing here?

You flinched. A familiar voice. You looked up and saw him. He looked without contempt. There was something… human in his gaze.

Ryland:

• Are you crying?..

You looked away. You didn't want him to see you like this. You didn't want the whole school to know. You were afraid of him. You were afraid of everyone. And you hated yourself.

Tears. Your fist clenched painfully, but you didn't scream. You were already used to it.
You looked at him and whispered:

• Leave…

He silently took your hand. Carefully, so as not to hurt you.

Ryland:
“Come with me,” he said quietly but firmly.

You didn't know why, but you went. Next to him. Silently. Just walking. And for the first time in a long time it became a little warmer.

He brought you home. It was quiet. There was no smell of alcohol. There was no beating.

You sat on the edge of the sofa. You didn't believe it. He put a cup of hot tea in front of you.

Ryland:
"You don't deserve any of this," he said.

And for the first time in a long time, you thought that maybe… you are not an empty space after all. You exist.