In the town of Derry, a five-year-old boy sat at home, listening to his parents argue. The black-haired child hugged his knees, crying as he watched the same scene unfold yet again. He knew that today, like many before, there would be nothing to eat, and his mother would beat him to vent the anger caused by his father's abuse.
"BANG!" The door slammed shut with force as his father left.
In that moment, Liam saw his mother crying on the floor. He tried to make himself invisible, hoping she wouldn't notice him. Then he saw her stop crying and lift her gaze toward him.
"What are you looking at, you spawn of that bastard!" she screamed, her face twisted with the hatred she held for him simply because he resembled his father.
She stood up and walked toward the corner where Liam was hiding, grabbing him by the hair.
"Ahhh! Let me go!" Liam tried to push her away with his small hands, but she ignored him, lifting him and striking him in the face with her knee, leaving him dizzy. She released him, and he hit the floor hard, losing consciousness. Seeing this, his mother looked at him with contempt and kicked him one last time before retreating to her room, continuing to cry and scream alone.
"DAMN IT ALL! MY FATHER FORCED ME TO MARRY THAT FATSO! NOW I HAVE TO SUFFER, SEEING HIM EVERY DAY, AND THAT DAMN CHILD WHO SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN BORN, WHO ONLY REMINDS ME OF HIM! AHHHHH!" Her screams echoed from her bedroom.
Even unconscious, Liam was undergoing an imperceptible change—memories that didn't belong to this life were awakening. They were the memories of a 17-year-old boy who had lived a harsh life: orphaned, forced to survive from a young age. At first, he had to steal; later, he was coerced into joining a city gang, where he was made to lure victims who took pity on him.
Many times, he watched them being taken away, never to be seen again. Over time, he learned to defend himself from disputes within the gang, often getting involved against his will. Somehow, he survived until he was seventeen, and by the age of fifteen, he had earned a high rank in the gang due to his strength. This gave him some freedom and rare moments of peace, during which he enjoyed series, anime, and movies online—the only good things in his life.
Unfortunately, at seventeen, the gang leader, seeing Liam growing influential, deemed him worthless and ordered him killed. Though skilled in combat, Liam could not survive against so many attackers, though he took ten of them down with him.
After some time, Liam woke up and stared at his hands in disbelief, processing everything that had happened and both sets of memories.
'Life isn't easy in this world either,' he thought. 'But now, with all my memories restored, I won't let anyone hurt me again. This time, I'll live a good life.'
Liam stood and looked out the window, imagining his new life, a wide smile spreading across his face, ignoring the blood on his face from his mother's strike.
"Now, it's time to plan everything I'll do from now on." He said as he walked toward his father's favorite armchair, the one no one else was allowed to use, and sat down.
He examined his body. "This body is still weak; I can't rely on brute strength. I'll have to be smart until I can train and strengthen myself over time."
In his previous life, malnutrition had stunted his growth, making it difficult to gain muscle and strength even when resources were available. Still, he had learned to use all the strength he had efficiently, surpassing others in fights despite being weaker. He would not allow this weakness to happen again and would now push his body to the limit. According to his memories, his father stood six foot three; Liam knew that if he trained correctly, he could reach that height or even surpass it.
"I'll have to wait a little longer until the conditions are right to act," he thought, considering how he would deal with his father when the time came. Liam's gaze was icy, unnaturally so for a five-year-old; anyone who saw him would shiver at the sight.
He remained seated in his father's armchair, swinging his short legs slightly while analyzing everything with a calmness that did not belong to the body he inhabited.
The house was silent, except for the distant sobs of his mother behind the bedroom door—a sound that once filled him with fear, now only a minor annoyance.