Chapitre 2: Chapter 2: Echoes of Torment
The morning greeted Alex with a gray sky, mirroring the dread that filled him at the thought of another day at school. He moved slowly, each action weighed down by the anticipation of the day's inevitable challenges. School had never been a haven for Alex; it was an extension of the torment he faced at home, a place where he was the target of ridicule and cruelty.
As he walked the familiar path to school, his mind replayed the previous night's events. The vividness of his dream still lingered in his thoughts, a stark contrast to the bleak reality he was walking into. He clutched his books tightly, a futile shield against the world.
The school loomed ahead, its imposing structure a labyrinth of corridors and classrooms that held more fears than opportunities for Alex. He slipped inside, hoping to remain unnoticed, but his hopes were quickly dashed.
A group of bullies, led by Mark, a tall boy with a mean streak a mile wide, waited for him near his locker. They were a constant presence in Alex's life, a reminder that school was just another battleground. Their eyes lit up with malicious glee as they spotted Alex.
"Hey, look who decided to show up," Mark sneered, stepping in front of Alex, blocking his path. The others circled around, trapping Alex. He could feel his heart pounding, his earlier resolve dissolving under their menacing stares.
"What's wrong, Alex? You look scared," taunted one of the bullies, a sneer twisting his face.
Alex remained silent, knowing that any response would only escalate the situation. He tried to sidestep them, but they were quick to close in, relishing the power they held over him.
"Where do you think you're going?" Mark grabbed Alex's arm, his grip tight and painful. "We're not done with you yet."
The first punch came without warning, a sharp blow to Alex's stomach that knocked the wind out of him. He doubled over, gasping for breath, as the others laughed. The assault continued, each punch and kick a brutal reminder of his helplessness.
Alex tried to protect himself, to block the blows, but there were too many of them, and he was quickly overwhelmed. The pain was intense, a symphony of agony that played across his body. He could taste blood in his mouth, feel the bruises forming, the familiar sensations of being beaten.
But amidst the pain, something else stirred within Alex. It was the ember of defiance that had sparked the night before, fanned by the injustice of his situation. He looked up, his eyes meeting Mark's, and in that moment, he felt a surge of something he hadn't expected – anger.
"Enough!" Alex's voice was surprisingly steady, his eyes burning with a newfound fire. The bullies paused, taken aback by his sudden show of defiance.
Mark's expression darkened. "What did you say?" he growled, moving closer.
"I said enough," Alex repeated, his voice stronger now. He didn't know where this courage was coming from, but he clung to it, a lifeline in the storm.
For a moment, there was a standoff, the bullies unsure how to react to this unexpected resistance. But their hesitation was brief, and they lunged at Alex once more, their attacks fueled by rage.
The beating continued until the sound of a teacher's voice echoed down the hall, causing the bullies to scatter. Alex was left alone, lying on the floor, his body aching, his spirit bruised but not broken.
He pulled himself up, each movement a test of endurance. He gathered his scattered books, his hands trembling, and made his way to the nearest restroom to clean himself up. As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, a bruised and battered face stared back at him. But in his eyes, there was a flicker of something else – a determination that had been absent before.
That day, Alex moved through his classes in a daze, his body on autopilot. The words of his teachers were a distant murmur, drowned out by the roaring in his ears. He was alone, isolated in his pain, but something had changed. The dream, the defiance, the realization that he could stand up for himself – it was all beginning to coalesce into a resolve to change his fate.
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Alex made his way home, his steps slow but steady. He was bruised and battered, but there was a strength growing within him, a strength that whispered of possibilities and a future where he was no longer a victim.
Alex's journey home was a heavy one, each step weighed down by the events of the day. The bruises from the bullies' assault ached with every movement, a constant reminder of his struggles. However, amidst the pain, a newfound sense of determination began to stir within him.
As he approached his house, a familiar sense of dread filled him. This place, which should have been a refuge, was just another battlefield for Alex. He cautiously opened the door, hoping to slip into his room unnoticed.
The house was unusually quiet, the usual sounds of television or his mother's complaints absent. Moving stealthily, Alex was about to ascend the stairs when he heard hushed voices coming from the kitchen. It was his parents, speaking in secretive, urgent tones.
Curiosity overpowered his initial intention to avoid them, and Alex found himself inching closer to eavesdrop, careful to stay hidden.
"We need to do something about Alex," his mother's voice was tense, tinged with frustration. "He's becoming more of a problem every day."
His father's voice, gruff and low, responded, "We can't just send him away; people will ask questions. We need to think of something that won't come back to bite us."
The conversation sent a chill down Alex's spine. They were discussing him, plotting some course of action, and the ominous tone of their words suggested nothing good.
Alex strained to hear more, but the creak of a floorboard under his foot betrayed his presence. The voices stopped abruptly, and a heavy silence filled the house. Alex's heart raced; he knew he had been discovered.
He turned swiftly, making a dash for the front door. His only thought was to escape, to get away from whatever plan his parents were concocting against him.
But just as he reached the door, his father appeared, blocking his exit. "Going somewhere, Alex?" he asked, his voice cold and menacing.
Alex, cornered and desperate, looked around frantically for another way out. But his mother was already behind him, effectively trapping him between them.
"We just want to talk, Alex," his mother said, her voice falsely sweet. "You've been causing us a lot of trouble, and we need to sort things out."
The way they boxed him in, their expressions void of genuine concern, made Alex's skin crawl. He knew this wasn't just a conversation. They were planning something far more sinister.
"Let me go," Alex demanded, trying to keep his voice steady despite the fear that gripped him.
"Let's just go to the basement and have a little chat," his father said, moving closer.
The basement was the last place Alex wanted to be, isolated and vulnerable. He glanced around, calculating his chances. He knew the layout of the house better than anyone. If he could just get past his father, he might have a chance to run to a neighbor's house for help.
Gathering his courage, Alex made a sudden move to dodge past his father. It was a risky attempt, fueled by desperation. For a moment, it seemed like he might succeed, but his father was quicker than he anticipated, grabbing Alex firmly by the arm.
"Nice try, but you're not going anywhere," his father sneered, tightening his grip.
Alex struggled, but it was futile against his father's strength. His mother moved in to assist, and together, they began to drag him towards the basement.
Fear coursed through Alex's veins, but so did the adrenaline of survival. He knew he had to keep fighting, to find a way out of this. The basement door loomed ahead, a dark maw that threatened to swallow him whole.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone