The rain tonight wasn’t just falling; it was a mournful chorus accompanying another wave of pain crashing over him. He already knew the signs: the gathering darkness, the growl of thunder in the distance, and then...the familiar, icy dread twisting in his gut. The shouts, the fists, the utter lack of control—each moment felt like a scene etched in an unending cycle of violence. It had become a cyclical nightmare, a grim movie he was forced to watch again and again, with no escape in sight.

Tonight, the violence was more brutal, more raw than he could ever remember. He tried to shrink, to become insubstantial, a phantom untouchable, slipping through the cracks. But the blows still found their mark, each one a new inscription on the canvas of his helplessness. Finally, when his father retreated, leaving behind a wake of shattered furniture, blood-stained memories, and suffocating silence, Neko was left sprawled on the cold, unforgiving floor, his body screaming in agony, unable to ignore the reality of his pain.

He crawled to his room, the frigid air offering little solace to his throbbing ribs and bruised skin. In the mirror, a stranger stared back at him—a young face, once vibrant and full of life, now gaunt and pale. His eyes, once filled with youthful sparkle, were now devoid of hope, replaced with a weary resignation that didn’t belong on the face of an eighteen-year-old.

Despair rose like a tide, threatening to completely submerge him in its unforgiving depths. This wasn’t a life; it felt like a slow, agonizing imprisonment, with each moment stretching into eternity. Without hesitation, he grabbed his only shield, a faded, threadbare hoodie that clung to him like an old friend, and stumbled out the door into the night. The relentless rain clawed at him, a cold, indifferent embrace that offered no comfort, but he kept going, driven by a flicker of hope buried deep within.

Each step was a titanic effort, the pain intensifying with every labored breath, the fatigue clawing at him like a wild beast. His vision blurred with each passing moment; his legs felt like lead weights, dragging him down into the abyss of despair.

Then, through the torrential downpour, he saw a beacon, a fleeting outline that pierced through the darkness. A person, warm and real.

With the last vestiges of his strength, Neko staggered towards you, his voice barely a whisper, swallowed by the wind and rain that pounded relentlessly around him. But his eyes, wide with desperate pleading, spoke volumes more than words ever could. He reached out, his trembling hand grabbing at the edge of your jacket, knuckles white with fear and urgency. "Excuse me...please...could you...help me...?"

The words never fully materialized in the chaos around them. Before he could say another syllable, he collapsed onto the wet pavement, unconscious, lost to the world as the rain continued to pour down around him, indifferent to his suffering.