Chapter: When Home Stops Feeling Like Home
Ter went straight home.
He didn't look left or right.
Didn't check his phone.
Didn't care if anyone called his name or watched him walk away.
The road felt longer than usual, every step dragging as if his body were moving through mud. His arm throbbed beneath the fabric of his sleeve—not sharp pain anymore, but a deep, pulsing burn that refused to let him forget. It reminded him of every moment he wished he could erase.
He kept his head down.
If he lifted it, he was afraid he might break again.
By the time he reached his house, the sky had already begun to dull. He pushed the door open slowly.
The first thing he saw was Lego.
The puppy was sitting right near the entrance, ears perked up, eyes fixed on the door as if he had been waiting the entire time. The moment Ter stepped inside, Lego sprang to his feet, barking excitedly, tail wagging so hard his whole body shook.
"Lego…" Ter breathed.
Before Ter could even bend down, Lego rushed toward him, sticking close to his legs, whining softly, circling him again and again as if afraid Ter might disappear if he stopped moving. Every time Ter tried to walk, Lego blocked his path, nudging him insistently.
"Okay, okay," Ter whispered, crouching down.
Lego jumped up, front paws landing on Ter's chest, licking his face wildly. Ter let out a quiet laugh—a small, cracked sound—but it was real. He wrapped his arms around the puppy, burying his face in the warm fur.
"You waited the whole time, didn't you?"
Lego answered by curling closer, pressing his warm body against Ter's chest. Ter felt the puppy's heartbeat—fast, alive, steady.
For a moment, everything inside Ter went quiet.
No school.
No shouting.
No blood.
No fear.
Just this.
After a while, his mother's voice came from the kitchen.
"Ter. Change your clothes."
Ter nodded automatically, even though she couldn't see him. He carried Lego to his room, gently placed him on the bed, and changed into casual home clothes. Long sleeves again. He carefully pulled them down, making sure nothing showed.
Dinner was already prepared.
Ter usually came home late because of extra tuition after school, so sitting at the table felt strange—like he didn't belong in this moment. He sat quietly.
While eating, Ter calculated every movement.
He kept his injured arm close to his body, resting it on his lap. He used his other hand for everything—lifting his spoon, reaching for water. Every time his sleeve shifted, his heart jumped.
His father talked about work as if nothing were wrong. His mother responded casually. The clinking of utensils sounded unbearably loud.
Ter nodded when expected.
Chewed slowly.
Swallowed with effort.
His mother glanced at him once.
Just once.
Her eyes lingered on his sleeves.
Ter felt it instantly. His chest tightened, breath catching halfway—but she said nothing.
After finishing, Ter stood up quickly. "I'll wash my plate."
"Hm," his mother replied.
"I'll do it," Ter said, already picking it up.
The kitchen felt safer. The sound of running water filled the room, drowning his thoughts. He washed the plate slowly, staring at the sink as if it could swallow him whole.
When he finished, he reached up to adjust his shirt—
And forgot.
When he stepped back into the living room, his sleeve had slipped just enough.
His father noticed.
The room went silent.
Ter felt it before he heard anything—that heavy shift in the air, like something terrible had just woken up.
His father stood up.
Slowly.
Each step toward Ter felt like a countdown. Ter's breath locked in his chest. Instinctively, he pulled his arm behind his back.
Too late.
His father grabbed his wrist and yanked it forward.
Ter gasped sharply.
His whole body froze.
"What is this?" his father demanded, his voice shaking with restrained rage.
"Dad… Dad…" Ter whispered, panic flooding him.
His father's grip tightened. "Did you start playing around? Did someone break your heart?"
"No! Dad, no—" Ter cried, shaking his head violently. "Please—"
"You think you have freedom now?" his father shouted. "You think you can do whatever you want?"
Ter's voice broke. "Dad, I swear… it was an accident… the table—"
"Don't lie to me!"
His father shoved Ter toward the kitchen. The gas stove clicked on. The flame ignited with a sharp hiss.
Ter's heart dropped.
A metal pot was placed on the stove. Water poured in.
The sound felt deafening.
Steam rose slowly into the air.
"Tell me the truth," his father said coldly. "Who were you meeting?"
"No one!"
"A boy?"
"No!"
"A girl?"
"No, Dad, please!"
His father dipped a ladle into the heating water, watching the steam curl upward. He poured some into a bowl, holding it close enough for Ter to feel the heat.
"Lies burn," he said. "Truth doesn't."
Ter sobbed uncontrollably. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I swear!"
"Do what?" his father asked sharply.
Ter froze.
That question crushed him.
"I—I won't talk to anyone," Ter cried. "I'll just study! I'll come straight home!"
The bowl tilted.
Hot water splashed onto Ter's arm.
Ter screamed.
The pain was instant—brutal, tearing through him like fire. His legs buckled, knees slamming into the floor. Lego barked frantically from the other room.
"Stop—please—please—" Ter sobbed.
Another splash.
Ter screamed again, clutching his arm, tears pouring freely.
Then his father grabbed a stick and began beating him.
"You don't study," he shouted. "You waste your time on useless things. You are such an ungrateful thing in my life. A brat."
"You don't deserve anything," his father said finally, straightening as if nothing had happened. He turned off the stove.
"Remember your limits."
Ter collapsed onto the floor, shaking violently.
Lego rushed toward him—but his father kicked the puppy aside.
"Lego!" Ter screamed.
His mother shouted too—not to stop it, but to scold Ter.
His father raised the stick again.
Ter broke completely.
"Dad, please!" he cried. "I didn't do anything wrong! I swear—please—"
Pain followed.
Again and again.
Finally, they left.
The door slammed.
Silence crashed down.
Ter lay on the floor, sobbing quietly. Lego crawled back to him, trembling, licking his face.
"I'm okay…" Ter whispered.
But he wasn't.
He carried Lego to his room, turned off the light, and sank against the wall.
Why was he born?
Why did nobody want him?
What was his mistake?
"I just want to die," he whispered.
Lego whimpered softly.
...
At School
Win stood by Ter's seat.
Waiting.
Ran burst into the room. "I saw Ter… with his father… in the principal's office."
"He looked broken," Ran said.
Win stood up instantly.
A teacher stopped him. "You're Ter's closest friend, right?"
"Yes."
"I need to talk to you."
Win followed.
And for the first time—
It wasn't anger burning in his chest.
It was fear.