Tides of fate

Chapter 1: The Boy in the Shadows

Phuwin sat on the edge of his bed, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting long shadows across the small room he called home. The walls were bare except for a single poster of a serene landscape, a stark contrast to the chaos within him. He often stared at it, imagining a world far removed from his own—a place where laughter echoed, where friends gathered, and where the weight of loneliness didn’t press so heavily on his chest.

At seventeen, Phuwin felt like an outsider in his own life. While other boys his age ventured into the world, making friends and chasing dreams, he remained confined to the safety of his room, haunted by memories he could not escape. His childhood had been marred by neglect and bullying, leaving scars that ran deeper than any physical injury. He had learned to be invisible, to blend into the background, hoping that if he stayed quiet enough, he might avoid further pain.

He glanced at the clock. It was nearly time for dinner, but he had no appetite. His mother had long since stopped asking if he wanted to eat; she was too preoccupied with her own struggles. The faint sound of her laughter with her new boyfriend drifted through the thin walls, a reminder of the warmth he craved but never felt.

Phuwin stood up and walked to the window, peering outside. The streetlights flickered on, illuminating the empty streets. He watched as a group of boys from his school passed by, their laughter ringing out, a harsh reminder of his isolation. He longed to join them, to be a part of something, but the thought of approaching them sent a wave of anxiety crashing over him. What would he say? How would they react? The questions piled up, heavy and suffocating.

With a sigh, he turned away from the window and picked up his sketchbook from the desk. Drawing was his escape, a way to pour out his emotions onto the page. He flipped through the pages filled with swirling lines and half-formed figures, each stroke a piece of his heart laid bare. Today, he decided to draw a boy standing alone under a vast, starry sky, a symbol of his own longing for connection.

As he immersed himself in his art, time slipped away. He lost himself in the rhythm of his pencil gliding across the paper, forgetting for a moment the ache of loneliness that plagued him. But the moment was fleeting. The sound of his mother’s laughter echoed again, and the reality of his life settled back in, heavier than before.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and his mother stepped inside, her smile bright yet fleeting. “Dinner’s ready, Phuwin! You should come eat.” Her tone was cheerful, but he could see the fatigue etched on her face.

“I’m not hungry,” he replied, not looking up from his sketch.

“Just a little something? I made your favorite,” she urged, but Phuwin could hear the hint of desperation in her voice. She wanted to connect, to reach out, but he felt too distant.

“Maybe later,” he mumbled, unwilling to meet her eyes.

His mother sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Okay. Just… don’t stay up too late, alright?” And with that, she left, closing the door gently behind her. Phuwin felt the familiar pang of guilt. He hated making her worry, but the walls he had built around himself felt impenetrable.

He continued to sketch, but his mind began to wander to darker places—memories of the boys at school who teased him, their cruel words echoing in his mind. He had tried to stand up for himself once, but it had only resulted in further ridicule. He was just a target, a shadow to them, and he wished he could disappear completely.

As night fell, the world outside darkened, and the silence of his home enveloped him. The only sound was the faint rustle of the trees outside, a lullaby that could not soothe his troubled thoughts. He placed his sketchbook aside and lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks as if they were stars.