Berceuse for The Suffering (Complete)

19. {The Boy}

Two decades ago.

As the car door creaked open, and the boy stepped out onto the pavement, he couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension. He looked up at the imposing structure of his aunt's house, towering above him like a monolith. The boy's father bid him farewell with a curt nod before the car roared to life and disappeared down the street. The boy was alone, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

He steeled himself and walked up to the door, a knot forming in his stomach as he rang the doorbell. The door creaked open, and his aunt greeted him with a warm smile. The boy couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him as he stepped inside the welcoming abode.

As he sat at the dinner table, the boy couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. The food was delicious, and his aunt regaled him with stories from her youth. For a brief moment, the boy forgot about his troubles, lost in the comfort of his aunt's home.

But as the night wore on, the boy couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he looked out the window. A group of teens were congregating on the street corner, laughing and joking around. They were carefree, unburdened by the weight of the world. The boy felt a sense of bitterness wash over him as he realized he was not one of them.

He looked at his reflection in the window, and all he saw was a plain, unremarkable teen, devoid of any defining features. He hated himself, hated the way he looked, hated his inability to fit in. He felt like an outcast, an outsider, condemned to watch from the sidelines as others enjoyed the spoils of life.

The boy's thoughts were consumed by self-loathing, and he couldn't help but feel like he was undeserving of love or companionship. The world was a cruel and unforgiving place, and he was nothing but a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things.

As the night wore on, the boy retreated further into himself, lost in a sea of despair. His aunt tried to console him, but her words fell on deaf ears. The boy was lost in his own thoughts, unable to escape the prison of his own mind.

***

In the middle of the night, the sky was a deep shade of black, speckled with twinkling stars that seemed to stretch on for eternity. The moon, a crescent in the sky, cast a soft light over the world below, illuminating everything in a pale, ghostly glow.

As the bird took flight, it soared through the peaceful stillness of the night, its wings slicing through the cool, crisp air with a gentle rustle. The world below was quiet, as though holding its breath in anticipation of something yet to come.

Finally, the bird landed on a windowsill, its feathers ruffling softly as it perched on the cold glass. Inside, a boy tossed and turned, his face twisted in pain as he moaned softly in his sleep.

For a moment, the bird watched the boy with curious eyes, studying him intently. But as the boy's moans turned into screams, the bird took off once again, startled by the sudden outburst.

As the boy woke up, panting and sweating, he was filled with a sense of dread that seemed to cling to him like a heavy fog. He knew what he had just dreamed about, and he hated himself for it.

He couldn't help the way he felt, no matter how hard he tried. There was something about little Lylibeth that stirred up feelings he had never known before, feelings he couldn't quite explain or understand.

He looked out the window, hoping to clear his mind and find some sort of solace in the world outside. But as he gazed out at the cold, empty streets, he realized that he was completely alone in his thoughts.

He knew what he was, and what he felt, was wrong. He was a monster, a twisted, sickening creature that had no place in the world he so desperately wanted to be a part of.