Rent Boy | Hyunlix

Lost part of soul

The room was a maelstrom of chaos and despair. My emotions felt like they were crashing over me in relentless waves, each one more crushing than the last. As I looked at Felix, his face a mask of anguish and fear, my heart ached with a profound sense of helplessness.

In the midst of the horror, I saw the cruel irony of my father's words. He had used my mother, manipulated her, and now his actions had led to this devastating moment. The weight of it all was almost too much to bear. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to make sense of the grotesque reality that had unfolded.

Felix, who was hiding under the table, looked at me with a mixture of hope and sorrow. His small frame shook with silent sobs as I kneeled beside him. His eyes were filled with a profound sadness that mirrored my own. I cupped his face gently, my heart breaking for him.

"I love you, till the death," I whispered through my tears, my voice cracking with emotion. "Now, when you have a chance, just run. Don't think too much, be free, love, okay?"

His grip on my shirt tightened as he cried harder, his small body trembling. The scene was unbearable, and the realization that our love had led us to this tragic juncture felt like a heavy burden I couldn't escape.

I stood up, my heart pounding with a mixture of rage and desperation. "Fuck, I am tired of this bullshit life," I shouted, my voice echoing with frustration and resolve. Both men turned their attention towards me, their faces a mix of surprise and confusion.

Without thinking, I raised the gun, the cold metal heavy in my trembling hands. My mind was a blur of chaotic thoughts and unprocessed emotions. In one swift, decisive motion, I pulled the trigger. The bullet met its mark with a sickening thud, and the man who had caused so much suffering fell to the floor, lifeless.

The shock of the action rippled through the room. The remaining guards were frozen, their faces a mix of horror and disbelief as they processed what had just happened. Their stunned silence was a stark contrast to the violent scene that had unfolded.

In the midst of the confusion, I lifted the gun to my own temple, the cold metal pressing against my skin. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the pain, the hopelessness—was almost unbearable. The room seemed to spin as I fought to maintain my composure, the gun heavy in my hand.

The sense of finality and despair was overwhelming. My world had been shattered, and the path forward seemed obscured by darkness. As I stood there, the echoes of Felix's cries and the sight of his tear-streaked face haunted me, a painful reminder of the love and loss that had defined our tragic journey.

In that moment of bleak realization, I grappled with the decision that lay before me, knowing that the choices I made could alter the course of everything we had fought for. The room was filled with a chilling silence, the aftermath of the violence casting a long shadow over what remained of our shattered lives.

The days stretched into a monotonous blur of hospital white and sterile silence. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a cage, its confines suffocating in their own way. My father's attempts at affection, though well-meaning, only added to the oppressive weight of my own thoughts. The coldness of his touch contrasted sharply with the turmoil raging inside me.

The physical pain was a constant reminder of the violence and chaos that had shattered my world. The bandages around my neck were a visible marker of the inner damage, a wound that refused to heal properly. I was trapped in a state of limbo, caught between the physical agony and the emotional numbness that had taken hold of me. My once-clear vision of the future had dissolved into a fog of despair and uncertainty.

My father's enthusiasm about my survival felt hollow against the backdrop of my isolation. His excitement over my actions, particularly the shooting of the man who had caused so much pain, was juxtaposed with the deeper realization of what it meant for me. I was no longer the son he had hoped for; I was a byproduct of a violent and twisted world that he had shaped.

Felix's escape, though a small glimmer of hope, was bittersweet. The thought of him finding a new life while I remained trapped in this state of limbo was both comforting and distressing. I wanted him to be free, but the knowledge that he was alone in a world that had shown him so much cruelty weighed heavily on me. I reached out to Lee, hoping he could help Felix find some semblance of stability and safety.

My daily routine became a battle against the encroaching darkness. I threw myself into physical exercise, using the pain in my muscles as a distraction from the emotional scars. The long hours spent lifting weights and running on the treadmill were a form of self-punishment and a desperate attempt to reclaim some control over my life. My reflection in the mirror was a constant reminder of my current state: disheveled hair, bruised hands, and a sullen face that spoke of sleepless nights and haunted dreams.

The visitors who came to see me spoke in hushed tones, their words falling flat against my growing sense of detachment. They meant well, but their attempts to engage me felt like echoes in an empty room. My silence was a shield, a way to protect myself from the pain of connection and the fear of vulnerability.

As the days passed, I found solace in small routines. I spent time in the dim light of the house, reading books and exercising, trying to find moments of calm amid the storm. The reflection in the mirror became a symbol of the person I was struggling to understand—a man caught between past trauma and an uncertain future.

Despite the physical improvements and the gradual healing of my wounds, the emotional scars were deep and persistent. The struggle to find meaning in the aftermath of the violence and betrayal continued to consume me. The realization that my father's love had been tainted by his own darkness left me questioning everything I had once believed.

I clung to the hope that Felix, somewhere out there, was finding a new path for himself. His escape was a beacon of light in an otherwise bleak existence. I continued to seek ways to help him from afar, hoping that his new life would be a testament to the possibility of redemption and recovery.

The journey ahead was uncertain, but the desire to find peace and purpose amidst the ruins of my past drove me forward. The healing process, both physical and emotional, was slow and fraught with challenges. Yet, amid the darkness, the faint glimmer of hope for a better future remained.