With irregular breathing and a lingering feeling of panic, little Bastian continued to run through the crowds, not realizing he had run too far until he reached the village border. Once or twice he tripped and fell because he ran without knowing the direction and because his eyes were watery. The people he passed looked indifferent or just stared at the eleven-year-old child with curious eyes. Just as it was getting late, Bastian arrived at the bridge at the village border, he stopped when feeling a pain spread in his left leg.

God, I accept my fate like this, but the pain my father gave me is very painful.. The young boy thought as he placed his hands on the guardrail of the bridge and looked down at the river flow. I'm not a monster... Why does my father punish me so harshly even though I haven't done anything wrong? Bastian has tried my best to be a good boy, but why are other people so mean to Bastian...? What's wrong with Bastian? He touched the bandage on his cheek. He wanted to cry, complaining to someone while getting a warm hug. But it was all just empty hope for Bastian. "Where should Bastian go after this?" he asked himself, feeling the night breeze getting colder.

He looked down at his body, looking at the bruises on his left leg from being hit with an alcohol bottle by his father. Other wounds have recently healed, but the problem is that there are always new wounds if Bastian stays at home. "I don't want to have a father.. Or a mother.. Adults and my friends are no different, they're so mean, they just talk whatever they want.. I have to stand up for myself." Bastian shifted his gaze to stares above the river, pointed out his index finger, making an oval of red smoke that stopped a leaf being carried by the wind in the air, using his ability to twirling the leaf there while thinking again. But how?