"So, have you told your parents that you're coming home this weekend?" a boy asked as he was putting luggage into the trunk of his car.
"Nah," another boy replied, handing him the last bag. "I wanted to surprise them. You know, ever since I left for college, they've been nagging me to come visit. And with how busy these past semesters have been..."
The boy's name was Alvin. He was a second-year psychology student — short blonde hair, green eyes, freckles scattered across his face, and a build that showed he worked out just enough to stay fit.
"Yeah, man, you don't have to tell me twice," his friend said, shutting the trunk. "That's the last one. Let's go."
They both got inside the car and drove off.
The drive was long. Alvin leaned his head against the passenger window, quietly watching the trees blur past. The car wasn't anything fancy — one of those classic models that still held their charm.
As they cruised down the road, Alvin scrolled through his phone, rereading the messages he'd exchanged with his parents.
---
MOM: WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME?
ALVIN: I'M STILL BUSY WITH EXAMS, BUT AFTER I'M DONE, I PROMISE I'LL COME BACK HOME.
MOM: AND WHEN WILL THAT BE, HUH?
ALVIN: SOON, MOM. SOON.
---
He smiled softly at the conversation before scrolling further down — this time to the texts between him and his dad.
---
DAD: HAVE YOU SEEN THE REMOTE?
ALVIN: NICE TO TALK TO YOU TOO, DAD.
DAD: I KNOW, BUT WHERE IS THE REMOTE?
ALVIN: DAD, YOU DO KNOW I HAVEN'T BEEN HOME FOR HALF A YEAR, RIGHT?
DAD: YEAH, SO WHAT'S THAT GOT TO DO WITH THE REMOTE?
ALVIN: DAD, I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE REMOTE IS!
DAD: YOU COULD HAVE SAID THAT FROM THE START INSTEAD OF MAKING ME USE ALL MY CHARACTERS.
ALVIN: I MISS YOU TOO, DAD.
---
Alvin chuckled quietly, warmth spreading through him. Those silly exchanges meant more to him than anything else.
Hours passed. The sun dipped low, and the sky began to darken. His friend had fallen asleep, mouth wide open, clutching a pillow like it was his lifeline — drooling all over it. Alvin, now behind the wheel, laughed quietly to himself.
They finally reached the city. Towering buildings shimmered with neon lights and bright billboards. Alvin couldn't help admiring the view through the windshield.
After another stretch of road, they reached a suburban neighborhood — identical houses with clean driveways and neat lawns. Alvin pulled over in front of one of them.
"Hey, I'm home," he said, shaking his friend awake. "Time for you to take over now."
His friend rubbed his eyes, looking half-dead. "Huh? We're home already?"
"No, I'm home. You still have another thirty minutes of driving left," Alvin said, pulling his bag — just one — out of the trunk.
"Man, can't you drive me the rest of the way? I'm exhausted," his friend whined.
Alvin leaned on the passenger window. "No can do, man. I've been driving for the last four hours while you were dreaming and drooling over your girlfriends."
"Hey, one of their names is Stacey, I think," his friend corrected him groggily.
"Whatever, man. Thanks for the ride. See you Sunday," Alvin said with a grin.
"Definitely. And don't be late this time," his friend replied, sliding into the driver's seat.
"You're the one who's always late," Alvin muttered to himself as the car drove off.
Turning back toward his house, Alvin noticed a black SUV parked in the driveway. He didn't think much of it — probably a relative visiting for Thanksgiving.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked up to the door. The lights were on, and a football game was playing on the TV inside.
"Mom, Dad, I'm home!" Alvin called, pushing the door open.
But what he saw next froze him to the core.
His father's feet dangled in the air — a tall, muscular man held him by the throat. His mother lay lifeless on the floor, her clothes torn, her body covered in blood.
Alvin couldn't move. His heart pounded in his ears.
His father managed to turn his head slightly, choking out the words, "Son… run."
Alvin stood frozen for a few more seconds before the man holding his father turned to look at him — cold, pitiless eyes locking onto his.
Alvin bolted, but before he could even reach the door, a beefy, well-dressed man blocked his path. With a single shove — more like a tap — Alvin flew backward, crashing into the living room.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" the tall man demanded, looming over him.
"I— I live here," Alvin stammered. "This is my home. Those are my parents!"
The beefy man walked inside. "What do you think we should do? Kill him?"
"Let me check with the boss first," the tall man replied, pulling out his phone. He dialed quickly, waited, then nodded. "The boss says we take care of him. No witnesses."
He drew his gun and aimed it at Alvin, who trembled uncontrollably.
But before he could pull the trigger, the beefy man stopped him.
"Why are you stopping me?" the tall one snapped.
"I have a better idea," the other said, his voice disturbingly calm. "Let's teach him a lesson instead. Leave him alive — make him an example."
The tall man's lip curled. "What do you suggest?"
The beefy man smiled darkly, twirling a knife between his fingers. "I just got a new toy I've been dying to try. How about, instead of killing him… we carve out his eyes?"
"Do whatever you want," the tall man said, stepping back toward the door.
The beefy man crouched in front of Alvin, his grin wide and cruel. Alvin screamed, trying to crawl away.
"No, no, please! Don't do this!" he begged, tears streaming down his face.
The man chuckled. "This is going to be fun."
He pressed the knife to Alvin's face and dragged it across — one long, deliberate cut from his right eye to his left.
Alvin's scream tore through the house. He fell to the floor, clutching his bleeding face, writhing in agony.
The Yakuza men left soon after, their footsteps fading, the sound of their car driving away echoing faintly through the night.
Alvin's hands and the floor were drenched in blood. He couldn't stop shaking.
"Mom… Dad?" he whispered, crawling forward, feeling his way across the floor. His fingers brushed against his mother's foot — and he recoiled, terrified.
He couldn't see. He couldn't think. He could only feel the pain and panic.
"I need… I need to get help," he gasped.
He crawled slowly, hands searching for the doorframe. When he finally found it, he used it to pull himself up. The door had been left open, and somehow, through sheer adrenaline, Alvin stumbled out.
He ran blindly into the street — and stopped when he thought he'd made it across.
The last thing he heard was a truck horn blaring.
And then — impact.
Everything went silent.
Then, faintly, he began to hear muffled voices around him. He couldn't see — only feel a strange warmth surrounding him.
Paramedics? he thought weakly. Did I survive? Am I saved?
Then, suddenly —
"Congratulations, madam. It's a baby boy!" a voice said joyfully.
The world around him shifted. He heard laughter, celebration, then a woman's gentle voice:
"Let me see him."
The baby — him — was placed into her arms. For someone who had just gone through the agony of childbirth, she sounded disturbingly calm.
But within moments, her tone turned cold.
"You call this thing a son? Useless."
A man entered the room. The baby was now in the nurse's hands. He took the child, staring down at him.
"What a disgrace to the family," the man said bitterly.
Alvin — now a newborn — somehow understood. They're talking about me, he realized.
He tried to see them, but it was useless. He was still blind.
Damn it... have I been reincarnated?
And then, as if on cue, he let out his first newborn cry.