Devil's Embrace

1. Ruthless

ANGEL:
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Today is my first day of college—the one I got into with my hard-earned money. Since childhood, all I have seen is my parents doing everything just to earn money. They didn’t care about anything else—not me, not even themselves. It was the only thing they ever cared about. There’s a rule in my family: kids must earn whatever they want, whether it’s for education, supplies, or basic needs.

I tried to divert my mind, not wanting to ruin my mood. I slipped into my dreams, the only place I could escape, feeling a small rush of hope. As I walked around campus, all I saw were rich kids talking about their luxurious lifestyles, bragging about their new cars or private jets. I noticed the look of disgust in their eyes whenever they locked eyes with mine, as if I didn’t belong there. But I wasn’t bothered by their stares; to them, I was just an insect they could squash at any time.

I quietly slipped into the classroom, trying to avoid drawing attention to myself. Just as I was about to sit down, I suddenly stumbled back and landed on the floor with a thud. I quickly stood up, regaining my composure, and noticed the boy who had snatched my chair. He stared at me with pure hatred, but I ignored him and chose another seat. I had grown used to this kind of treatment; I just wanted to get my degree and find a good job.

When the teacher entered the class, she also gave me that same, disapproving look. She asked me to introduce myself, so I stood up and said, "I am Yashika Rathi, nice to meet you all." I could feel their intense stares as I sat back down.

As soon as the bell rang, the students started leaving. On my way out, I was cornered by a group of rich brats who clearly despised me. I tried to escape, but they shoved me onto the floor, laughing hysterically. Desperate, I searched for any sign of humanity in their eyes but found nothing.

The boy from earlier taunted, "Yashika Rathi, huh? We should give you a round of applause for your audacity, right? How brave of you to step into this school with a background like that."

“You don’t even deserve the dirt on my shoes, yet here you are, trying to match our standards.”

With that, he kicked me hard in the stomach, making me double over in pain. They left me there, alone and hurting. After a few minutes, I managed to stand up, still feeling the ache in my gut. As tears welled up in my eyes, I realized this year would be one hell of a battle to get through.

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I limped slowly with home in sight. I could already hear the distinct shouting from afar—it was my dad, again. The sounds grew louder as I approached. When I stepped inside, a broken vase shattered at my feet.

“You wasted all of our savings on those filthy drinks again!” my mother screamed. “Shut up before I slap you!” my dad snapped back. “Please, I beg you, at least earn for yourself. You should take responsibility as the man of the house.”

Ignoring their fight, I headed straight to my shabby room. I buried my face in the pillow, sobbing as I recalled the events of the day. I quickly washed my face, freshened up, and tended to my bruises. I left the house with their yelling still echoing in my ears—I had my shift in 10 minutes.

I rushed to my locker at work, changing into my uniform. As I stepped to the counter, a loud ringing sound pierced my ears. The manager was glaring down at me, her face twisted in anger. I lowered my head, bracing myself.

“This is my last warning,” she snapped. “I won’t tolerate you being late again.”

With that, she stormed off. I took a deep breath, pushing back the tears, and turned to face the customers, trying to calm myself. Little did I know that my torment was far from over.

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The store bell chimed, sharp and shrill, signaling arrival. My stomach twisted—them again. The rich brats from college. Their laughter was a dagger, cutting through the stale silence of the small shop.

“Look at her,” one of the girls sneered, brushing imaginary dust off her designer coat. “Still playing cashier? How quaint.”

They roamed the aisles, knocking over cans and boxes with mock clumsiness. One of them grabbed a packet of biscuits, examined it with disdain, and let it fall to the floor. Another boy leaned over the counter, smirking.

“You should thank us for shopping here,” he said. “This place would be dead without us—just like your future.”

Before I could say a word, a can flew across the room, slamming into my shoulder. Pain flared, but I bit down on my scream. Tears stung the back of my eyes as I clutched my arm.

“This is where you belong, Yashika,” he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. “Down here, groveling like the nobody you are.”

Their laughter echoed as they dragged me outside. Cold air slapped my face, but the sting of humiliation burned hotter. They shoved me hard, and I stumbled onto the gravel road, my knees scraping against the rough surface. I lay there, breathless and bruised, staring at the vast, uncaring sky.

Their voices faded into the distance, leaving me alone with the night and the ache that spread through my body. For a moment, I closed my eyes, darkness threatening to pull me under.

But something inside me refused to break completely. This isn’t how it ends, I thought. Slowly getting unconscious, I promised myself: I’ll rise. One day, I’ll make them choke on their laughter.

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