His name was Nathaniel

14

Nathaniel's room was dimly lit by a single lamp, the shadows stretching across the walls like grasping fingers. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his body trembling from the cold and the relentless pressure of his father's interrogations. He sank onto the edge of his bed, burying his face in his hands as he tried to regain control. But the walls were closing in on him, and no matter how much he tried to stay strong, the weight of it all was too much.

The door creaked open, and his father strode in, his presence filling the room with a suffocating sense of dread. Nathaniel didn't look up, didn't acknowledge him, but he could feel his father's gaze like a physical force.

"You disappoint me, Nathaniel," his father said, his voice low and cold. "I expected more from you. But it seems you've inherited your mother's weakness."

At the mention of his mother, something in Nathaniel snapped. He lifted his head, his eyes blazing with anger and pain. "Don't you dare talk about her," he spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.

His father arched an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "You think you can tell me what to do? After everything you've put me through, you dare to defy me?"

Nathaniel's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. "You're the one doing this to yourself," he said, his voice rising. "You never cared about anything but yourself! You never cared about her, or me, or anyone!"

His father's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "Careful, Nathaniel. You're treading dangerous ground."

But Nathaniel couldn't stop. The words were pouring out of him, a torrent of pent-up emotions that had been festering for years. "You think you can control everything, everyone, but you're wrong. You're nothing but a tyrant—a coward who hides behind his power because he's too afraid to face the truth!"

His father's face darkened with fury, and in a swift motion, he backhanded Nathaniel across the face, the impact sending him reeling. Nathaniel tasted blood, but he didn't back down. Instead, he stared at his father with a defiance he hadn't known he was capable of.

"You're weak," his father hissed, towering over him. "You're weak just like your mother. You think this girl loves you? She's probably forgotten all about you by now. You're nothing to her, just like you're nothing to me."

Nathaniel's resolve wavered, the venom in his father's words cutting deep. He wanted to shout back, to tell him he was wrong, that Adaliya cared about him, that she was different. But the uncertainty gnawed at him, the fear that maybe his father was right—that Adaliya had moved on, forgotten him as the weeks passed without a word.

His father leaned in closer, his voice a harsh whisper. "You think she'd still care for you if she saw you like this? Weak, broken, clinging to some childish fantasy of love? She'd laugh at you, Nathaniel. She'd pity you."

Nathaniel's breath hitched, the damning words seeping into his very core. His father's taunts, the endless torment—it all crashed down on him in that moment, overwhelming his defenses. The strength he had fought so hard to maintain crumbled under the weight of his father's relentless cruelty.

"Shut up!" Nathaniel suddenly screamed, his voice cracking with anguish. "Just shut up! You don't know anything! You never did! You're just a monster who can't stand to see anyone else happy!"

His father's eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as he saw Nathaniel finally break. "And you're nothing but a deluded child," he sneered. "You think love can save you? You're alone, Nathaniel. No one is coming for you. No one ever will."

Tears of frustration and despair welled up in Nathaniel's eyes, and he furiously wiped them away, hating himself for showing this weakness in front of his father. He couldn't stop shaking, his whole body trembling as he choked back sobs.

"I hate you," Nathaniel whispered, the words torn from his throat. "I hate you more than anything in this world."

His father's expression didn't change, but there was a coldness in his eyes that sent a shiver down Nathaniel's spine. "Hate me all you want," he said softly. "But you will obey me. You will tell me who she is, or I'll make your life even more miserable than it already is."

Nathaniel's heart pounded in his chest, the rage giving way to a crushing sense of helplessness. He was trapped, with no way out. No matter how hard he fought, no matter how much he resisted, his father would always find a way to break him.

But even as despair clawed at him, Nathaniel clung to the one thing that had kept him going all this time: Adaliya. The memory of her smile, the warmth of her touch—it was the only thing that gave him the strength to endure.

"No," Nathaniel whispered, his voice hoarse but resolute. "I won't tell you. I'll never tell you."

His father's face twisted with anger, and for a moment, Nathaniel thought he might strike him again. But instead, he turned away, his voice cold and detached. "Then you'll suffer, Nathaniel. And when you finally realize how pointless this is, when you're ready to beg for mercy, I'll be here. And you'll tell me everything."

With that, his father left the room, slamming the door behind him. Nathaniel was left alone in the darkness, the silence pressing in on him like a suffocating blanket.

And for the first time in weeks, he let the tears fall freely, the sobs wracking his body as he curled up on his bed. He had tried so hard to stay strong, to keep his father from seeing how much he was hurting. But now, in the solitude of his room, he couldn't hold back any longer.

He cried for everything he had lost, for the pain his father had inflicted on him, and for the fear that he might never see Adaliya again. He cried until there were no tears left, until exhaustion claimed him, and he drifted into a fitful, restless sleep.

And in his dreams, all he saw was Adaliya's face, fading further and further away, no matter how hard he tried to reach out to her.