Chapter 1
The ambulance sirens wailed through the night like desperate cries.
Inside the vehicle, the pregnant woman thrashed violently against the straps, her face twisted in unbearable agony.
"Get it out! Get it out! Get it out!" she screamed, her voice raw, breaking apart with every word. "Please… get it out of me!"
Blood poured from her in thick, unrelenting waves, soaking the stretcher and dripping onto the floor with every brutal contraction.
The senior paramedic leaned over her, hands pressing hard and rhythmic against her swollen abdomen, desperately trying to force the uterus into contraction.
"We've done everything!" he shouted over the chaos, sweat streaming down his face. "Compression, bimanual pressure—nothing is working! The bleeding won't stop!"
His partner clutched the radio, voice tight with urgency.
"Control, we're three minutes out! Full-term labor, massive hemorrhage. We've tried everything—it's not stopping. She's losing too much blood. This isn't normal!"
"GET IT OUT!" the woman howled again, her entire body convulsing as another violent contraction tore through her.
Fresh blood gushed, splattering the walls.
"I can't take it anymore… get it out…"
"Hold on, ma'am," the paramedic urged, never stopping the relentless pressure. "We're almost there. Just breathe. Stay with us."
The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the emergency room.
The doors burst open.
A swarm of nurses and doctors rushed forward as the gurney shot through the sliding doors, leaving a glistening crimson trail across the sterile white floor.
"Obstetric emergency—massive hemorrhage during labor!" a nurse barked. "Move!"
Her screams echoed down the corridor.
"Get it out! Get it out of me!"
Dr. Marcus Hale met them in the trauma bay, his expression instantly hardening at the sight before him.
"Full team, now!" he commanded. "Two large-bore IVs. Rapid infuser running. Type and cross for six units. We deliver this baby—safely."
Chaos erupted—but it was controlled chaos.
Monitors shrieked. Orders flew. Gloved hands moved with precision.
The woman's voice grew hoarse, yet she kept screaming through the pain.
"Get it out… please…"
With one final, agonizing push—guided and forced by the obstetric team—the baby emerged.
A boy.
Silence.
No cry.
The newborn lay limp and blue on the warmer, his chest completely still.
"Baby's not breathing!" the pediatrician snapped. "Heart rate critically low—starting neonatal resuscitation now!"
The team moved instantly.
Warm blankets. Suction. Bag-mask ventilation.
Tiny chest compressions.
"Come on… breathe," the pediatrician murmured under his breath. "Fight. Fight for us…"
Dr. Hale never looked away from the mother.
Blood still poured.
Too much.
Far too much.
Seconds stretched into something unbearable.
Then—
A weak gasp.
A thin, fragile cry pierced the room.
"He's breathing!" the pediatrician announced, relief breaking through the tension. "Heart rate rising—we've got him!"
They wrapped the infant carefully and placed him on his mother's chest just as her eyelids began to flutter.
Her face, drained of all color, softened.
Despite the blood.
Despite the pain.
She smiled.
A pure, fragile expression of love.
With trembling, blood-stained fingers, she reached up and gently touched her son's cheek.
"My baby…" she whispered.
Her hand slipped away.
"Blood pressure dropping!" a nurse shouted. "She's crashing!"
Dr. Hale's voice cut through the panic—sharp, controlled.
"Push another bolus of oxytocin. Start infusion. More fluids—keep her warm. Tranexamic acid, now. Two units packed red blood cells, stat!"
"Fibrinogen low!" another doctor called. "Prepare fresh frozen plasma!"
Their voices began to blur.
Fade.
Disappear.
Darkness swallowed her.
The last thing she felt…
was the warmth of her newborn resting against her chest.
And the faint echo…
of his first cry.
Outside the hospital—
A strange crimson moon hung low in the sky.
Watching.
Silent.
That's me.
Kai.
From what I know, my life has been nothing more than misery.
They said I was born under a bloody moon.
A bad omen.
A mistake.
It didn't take long for my father to start saying it out loud.
"You're useless."
"You killed her."
"You should've never been born."
"You should be dead .
"Why why are you living.
Every word dug deeper than the last.
And when words weren't enough… he used anything he could fit in his hand.
I had siblings.
An older brother.
An older sister.
But they never felt like family.
The way they looked at me…
It wasn't just anger.
It was regret.
Like their eyes were asking a question they already knew the answer to—
Why are you here?
Why must we feel this pain?
So I stayed away.
I hid.
Small places. Quiet places.
That night, I was inside the wardrobe.
Curled up in the darkness, playing with little toys I made from sticks—tiny figures, broken and uneven… like me.
It was the only place I felt invisible.
Safe.
Then—
Click.
The door shut.
My sister had locked it.
I thought… maybe she was just angry again.
So I stayed quiet.
I always stayed quiet.
Then the front door slammed open.
Heavy footsteps.
Unsteady.
Father was home.
Drunk.
"Where is he?" his voice echoed through the house.
My sister answered, hesitant.
"I… I think he's somewhere outside…"
Silence.
Then—
A slow, deep breath.
I heard him walk into the kitchen.
Drawers opening.
Metal scraping.
My brother walked up to him.
I could see it through the thin gap in the wardrobe door.
He held books in his hands.
Like always… trying to be seen.
Trying to be enough.
"Father, I—"
The knife went in.
It happened so fast.
A wet sound.
A sharp gasp.
My brother froze, eyes wide with confusion.
Like he didn't understand what was happening.
Then it came again.
And again.
And again.
The sound…
It wouldn't stop.
My brother tried to speak.
"Fath—"
His voice was cut short.
A clean slice across his throat.
He dropped.
Just like that.
Still.
Empty.
My body wouldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't even scream.
My sister stumbled backward, her voice breaking into a scream—
But father grabbed her.
One hand clamped over her mouth.
The other—
Still holding the knife.
He lifted her like she weighed nothing.
And then—
He stabbed her.
Her screams were muffled, shaking, desperate.
Again.
And again.
And again.
I shut my eyes.
Covered my ears.
But it didn't matter.
I could still hear her.
I could still hear everything.
Then—
Something warm hit my face.
I opened my eyes.
Just a little.
Blood.
Her blood.
It smeared across my skin.
Thick.
Hot.
Real.
I froze.
Completely.
Then…
Silence.
No more screams.
No more movement.
Nothing.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
Getting closer.
"Kai…" his voice called softly.
Too softly.
"Come out… I got you something…"
My body trembled violently.
I bit down on my hand to stop myself from making a sound.
Doors opened.
Closed.
Closer.
Closer.
Then his voice changed.
Snapped.
"You're the cause of all this!" he roared. "Come out, you irritating worm!"
I couldn't stop crying.
Not loud.
Just quiet, broken sounds.
Calling for someone who wasn't there.
"Mom…"
Through the gap—
I saw him.
Walking back into the room.
Coming toward the wardrobe.
His hand reached out.
Closer.
Closer—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Open up! Police!"
Everything stopped.
"We've received reports of screaming—open the door!"
Father stood still.
Then slowly…
He turned.
Walked to the bed.
Sat down.
For a moment—
There was nothing.
Then—
He lifted the knife.
And drove it into himself.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Over and over.
Like he couldn't feel it.
Like it didn't matter.
Blood soaked everything.
Then he stopped.
Slowly…
He turned his head.
Looked directly at the wardrobe.
At me.
He smiled.
"...We'll all be reunited with mommy."
His body dropped.
Still.
Then—
The door burst open.
Police flooded the house.
Boots hitting the floor.
Voices shouting—
Then stopping.
Silence again.
But a different kind.
One officer gagged.
Another turned away.
I didn't understand why.
Not fully.
But I knew—
It was over.
I started crying.
Loud this time.
I couldn't hold it in anymore.
One of them heard me.
He walked slowly toward the wardrobe.
Opened it.
Light flooded in.
He saw me.
Small.
Shaking.
Covered in blood that wasn't mine.
For a moment—
He just stared.
Then gently…
He picked me up.
"It's okay…" he whispered.
But it didn't feel okay.
It never would.
And now—
Here I am.
Still alive.
Living…
A miserable life.
Present day. A rundown orphanage in the U.S. Kai (now 15) stares out a cracked window. His face is emotionless, eyes shadowed.
[Panel 2]
The orphanage mistress yells at a younger kid for spilling water. The kid cowers.
[Panel 3]
Kai walks past the scene, unaffected.
NARRATION:
"Seven years since I was dropped here. Seven years of nothing."
[Panel 1]
School hallway. Graffiti on lockers. Gang wannabes swagger around, bumping into smaller kids.
[Panel 2]
Kai walks past them. One of them — Trey, a loud-mouth teen — shoulder-checks him hard.
TREY:
"Watch it, freak."
[Panel 3]
Kai hits the lockers but says nothing. He stands up and walks on.
NARRATION:
"They hit me. Push me. Call me names. I don't react. It's easier when they think you feel nothing."
PAGE 5
[Panel 1]
That night. Kai lies in bed. Eyes wide open. The ceiling is cracked and leaking.
Kai stands in a narrow alley the next day.
The alley was narrow, suffocating—its walls closing in like they were listening.
Kai stood at the center of it.
Waiting.
Footsteps echoed, then stopped. Trey and his gang spilled into the space, blocking the only exit. Their presence filled the air with something foul.
Trey smirked, tilting his head .
"Didn't I tell you…" he said slowly, his voice dripping with contempt, "…not to look at me?"
Kai didn't respond.
Didn't move.
Didn't even blink.
For a moment, it was like he wasn't there at all—just a body standing upright.
Then—
A fist slammed into his stomach.
The force folded him in half. Air rushed out of his lungs in a silent gasp, his body trembling from the impact.
But no scream came.
Not even a sound.
That made trey more angry, but suddenly
The air at the alley shifted.
The boys hesitated.
Something wasn't right.
Still bent over, Kai's fingers tightened slightly against his side.
Why…?
In thought,he said
Why should I be the only one…
…who feels this world's cruelty?
Kai lifted his head.
His eyes— dull and lifeless
Just… there.
Watching.
He looked past Trey. Past all of them. As if they no longer mattered.
His lips parted, and in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke—
"Why… can't I have a normal life?"