The hospital discharged me the next morning.
No one came to pick me up.
Not that I expected anyone to.
I walked out with just a paper bag, my phone, and that silent, heavy feeling in my chest again. The kind that doesn't go away — it just sleeps inside you until something shakes it awake.
I took a cab home.
Not because I wanted to go there.
But because… where else was I supposed to go?
The car slowed to a stop outside the house.
That house.
I stared at the door. The same door I used to run to as a kid, hoping someone would be inside waiting for me.
Now?
I couldn't even tell if I had the strength to open it.
I stepped out.
Dragged myself to the entrance.
Pulled out my key with a shaky hand.
The lock clicked.
The door creaked.
And the first thing that hit me wasn't the smell of food, or warmth, or any kind of welcome.
It was silence.
Then she appeared — my stepmother. She turned from the kitchen, looked at me like I was something she found under her shoe.
"Oh," she said, eyebrows raised. "So you're still alive."
Still alive.
That's what she had to say.
I stood there, soaking it in.
"You should've stayed at the hospital," she muttered. "You've already humiliated this family enough. The neighbors… the gossip… you're a disgrace."
Before I could speak, footsteps echoed from the stairs.
My stepsister came down, phone in hand, chewing gum like she owned the world.
"Back from your little attention stunt?" she said with a smirk. "Didn't work, huh?"
I opened my mouth—but nothing came out.
I didn't even know what to say anymore.
The other one — the older stepsister — leaned over the stair rail, arms crossed.
"Guess the fall wasn't high enough."
That one stung.
Then, another voice. The one I used to wait for. The one that used to make me feel safe.
My dad.
He stood in the hallway, arms folded, eyes cold.
"You've brought shame to this family," he said flatly. "People are pointing fingers. Do you understand what you've done?"
I blinked. My throat tightened.
"You're really saying that to me?" I asked. "After everything… I'm the shame?"
"You're not my son anymore," he said.
Just like that.
No hesitation.
No pause.
I felt something snap inside. Quietly. Like a string pulled too tight for too long.
And then...
Silence.
I nodded.
"Okay."
I turned to head to my room.
"You can't survive without us," my stepmother called after me. "You think the world's gonna be kind? You'll come crawling back."
My younger stepsister giggled. "Let him try. He'll be back in a week."
But I didn't look back. Not this time.
I packed everything in silence.
A few clothes. My notebook. My sketchpad.
And from the drawer… a worn-out photo of my mother. The edges were cracked. The smile on her face still felt real.
"I miss you," I whispered.
I pulled out the box I had hidden under my bed — my savings. Years of pocket money, part-time jobs, coins stashed with hope.
It wasn't much.
But it would be enough.
I stared out the window one last time before the sun came up.
No more waiting.
No more begging.
No more hoping they'd change.
I stepped out at dawn.
No one saw me leave.
No goodbye. No note. No second thoughts.
Just one quiet thought in my head:
"You wanted me gone. So now I am."
Later that morning
"What do you mean he left?!" My stepmother's scream pierced the silence.
"He took his bag. His stuff's gone. He didn't even message anyone," the younger stepsister said, frowning at her phone.
The older one rubbed her arms. "Seriously? He actually left? That idiot."
"What if he tells people things?" the stepmother hissed. "He'll ruin us."
His father stood at the window, silent. Still. Watching the empty street.
"He's bluffing," the stepmother said, pacing. "He'll come back."
But he didn't speak.
Not even when the others left the room.
He just stared… and somewhere deep, deep down — maybe he wondered if he'd lost something he could never fix.
Meanwhile…
Kai sat quietly in the back of the bus, staring out the window as the city blurred into trees and distance.
His hand clutched the photo in his pocket.
The world outside looked empty.
But inside?
A storm.
A fire.
"They wanted me erased," he whispered, eyes dark.
"Now I'll become something they can never ignore."
The bus drove into silence, toward the forgotten house.
To where everything would begin.