Early morning in the same small, gray town. The rain has finally stopped, leaving everything damp and shrouded in a thick mist that hangs low over the quiet streets. The town seems abandoned, as though the rain has washed away any traces of life. Kid walks alone, his soaked clothes clinging to his skin, his face pale and hollow-eyed. Every step feels heavy, his body weighed down with cold and exhaustion, but he trudges forward, his gaze unfocused.
Kid isn't entirely sure where he's going, only that he has to keep moving. His feet are numb, his fingers stiff, and he feels as though he's drifting through a dream—or maybe a nightmare. The world around him feels detached, as if he's not really part of it. His thoughts are scattered, fragments of hope clinging to him like broken glass, cutting deeper with every step.
Kid (whispering to himself, almost in a trance): It's fine. I'm… fine. They'll probably be looking for me by now, wondering where I went.
But the words sound hollow, and deep down, he knows they're a lie. He remembers the empty street, the hours he spent waiting, the realization that settled over him like a stone in his chest: no one is coming. No one cared enough to come looking for him. The hope he clung to so desperately now feels like a cruel joke.
He tries to shake off the thought, tries to hold onto that thin thread of optimism, but it's slipping through his fingers, unraveling with every step he takes. Just as he's about to give up entirely, something catches his eye—a house up ahead, bright and warm, standing out against the dreary morning.
The house is large and well-kept, with neatly trimmed bushes lining the walkway and a warm, golden glow spilling from the windows. Kid pauses, staring at it in awe. He can hear laughter from inside, soft and melodic, cutting through the silence like a beacon. He feels a strange pull toward the house, a longing he can't quite place.
Slowly, cautiously, he steps closer, drawn to the sound of voices and laughter. His heart pounds in his chest as he peers through the window, his breath fogging up the glass as he watches the scene inside.
Inside the house, a family is gathered around a large breakfast table. There are parents—both smiling, their faces warm and full of love—and children of various ages, chatting and laughing as they pass around plates of food. The mother leans over, gently ruffling the hair of the youngest child, who giggles in response. The father chuckles, pouring more orange juice, while an older sibling rolls their eyes at a younger one's joke.
Kid (whispering to himself, in awe): They're… happy. Really, really happy.
He presses his face closer to the glass, his eyes wide, his heart aching with a longing he's never allowed himself to feel so openly. It's a scene he's only ever imagined, a perfect picture of what he thought family was supposed to be. But now, seeing it with his own eyes, it feels like a slap in the face.
The warmth radiating from the room is almost tangible, and Kid feels himself drawn to it, as though he could somehow soak it up through the glass. But as he watches, his awe begins to twist into something darker—a gnawing sense of envy and resentment.
Kid (in a soft, bitter whisper): Why do they get this? Just like that… they have it all, without even trying.
He watches as the parents share a knowing look, a smile that speaks of years of love and understanding. The children tease each other, playfully bickering over the last pancake, their laughter filling the room. It's so easy for them, he thinks, so natural. They have something he's never known—something he's always wanted but could never have.
The ache in his chest grows sharper, turning into a painful, hollow emptiness. He feels as though he's standing on the outside of something precious, something he can never be part of. His fingers curl into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tries to hold back the anger building inside him.
Kid (voice trembling with barely suppressed bitterness): They didn't do anything to deserve this. They just… have it. And I…
He trails off, unable to finish the sentence, but the thought lingers, burning in his mind: And I get nothing. The resentment bubbles up inside him, a dark, seething anger that fills the hollow spaces where his hope used to be.
As he watches the family laugh and chat, memories of his own home flood his mind. He remembers the cold, cluttered kitchen, the impatient glances from his parents, the harsh words he's tried so hard to forget.
He recalls his father's scowl, his mother's sighs of exasperation, the way his sister sneered at him, calling him a burden, a mistake. He remembers every moment he spent trying to make them happy, to prove he was worth something, only to be met with indifference or outright disdain.
Kid (to himself, voice filled with quiet rage): I tried so hard… I did everything they wanted. I stayed quiet, I did my chores, I tried to make them laugh… but it was never enough. I was never enough.
The bitterness in his voice surprises him, but he doesn't try to push it away. He lets it fester, lets it fuel the anger building inside him. He's done pretending, done making excuses for people who never cared. They left him out there, alone and forgotten, and for what? So he could sit on the outside, watching other people live the life he'll never have?
He feels something shift inside him, a cold, hard resolve taking root where his fragile optimism once was. He doesn't want to be like those people anymore, those kind, forgiving heroes who always look for the best in others. He's done with being good, with hoping for something that will never come.
Kid (whispering to himself, voice dark): If they won't care about me, then… fine. Maybe I don't need them. Maybe I don't need anyone.
The thought fills him with a strange, twisted satisfaction, and for the first time, he feels a sense of control. He won't sit around waiting for love, for acceptance. He'll take control of his own life, shape it in his own image. And if the world wants to see him as a monster… well, maybe he'll give them exactly that.
Kid pulls back from the window, casting one last look at the warm, happy family. A bitter smile curls on his lips as he steps away, his gaze cold and distant. He no longer feels envy or longing—only a cold, hard determination. He'll make his mark on the world, one way or another.
He begins to hum softly to himself, the melody dark and haunting, his voice barely a whisper as he sings the lyrics he's clung to as a source of comfort. But now, the words take on a new meaning, a twisted sense of purpose.
Kid (singing softly, voice filled with defiance): Am I laid to waste, now that you're not around? Come and leave your mark… vandalize my heart…
The words feel like a dark vow, a promise he makes to himself. He'll no longer be the forgotten child, the one left on the outside looking in. He'll find a way to make the world see him, to make them remember him. Even if it means becoming something they fear.
As he walks away from the house, the mist swirls around him, shrouding him in shadows. The warmth and light of the house fade behind him, swallowed by the fog, leaving him alone once more. But this time, he doesn't feel lonely—he feels powerful, fueled by a newfound sense of purpose.
As he makes his way through the empty streets, Kid's mind races with thoughts and memories, each one fueling his anger, his desire for vengeance. He thinks of every time he was ignored, every hurtful word, every broken promise. He's tired of being the one who waits, who hopes. He's done with being good, with being ignored.
Kid (thinking, voice filled with determination): They'll all see me, one day. They'll know what it feels like… to be left out, to be forgotten. They'll understand the pain they've caused. I'll make sure of it.
He takes a deep breath, his fists clenched at his sides as he walks. The mist closes in around him, the shadows stretching longer, darker, as if welcoming him into their embrace.
Kid (singing softly, voice low and chilling): Fuck the pain away… my bed is in ruins… Need you in my veins… don't know how you do it… Come and leave your mark… vandalize my heart.
He repeats the lyrics like a mantra, each word fueling his resolve, cementing his transformation. He's no longer the helpless, hopeful child he was. He's something new, something stronger, something darker.
The mist swallows him as he disappears into the morning light, leaving nothing but silence in his wake. But the promise he's made lingers in the air, a dark, unyielding vow that will shape the path ahead.
Kid has chosen his path, and he'll stop at nothing to make his mark on the world.