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WARNING: VIOLENCE AGAINST CHILDREN

Based on Real Life story

******

"You brat! You do nothing but fucking get on my nerve!"

Another day, another morning filled with beatings. Roksu bit his lips as hard as he can. He can taste the rusty taste of his blood. His hands were curled into fists, grabbing his shirt while enduring the nonstop hitting on his back.

He swallowed all his tears and groans.

Please... make it stop.

He prayed—pleading that his uncle would soon stop.

There was never a day his uncle never hurt him. He wasn't afraid that he would beat him, he was already convinced that his uncle would kill him.

"You BRAT!" His uncle snarled as he punched him so hard that he ended up on the floor.

He simply sat down once again and waited for another hit or a kick to hit him.

His uncle would not even give him food. Everything he received from social welfare was taken away and used to fuel his gambling addiction.

As an eight-year-old, he was trapped in a cycle of abuse by his own uncle. He would beat him so badly that he needed to be hospitalized, but this man did nothing but let him suffer for an extended period.

Blinking tiredly.

The sun was already up in the sky, casting shadows and colors across the buildings. The skin on his bare forearms tightens into goosebumps, but he ignores the discomfort.

It's not bad.

It will never be bad.

You are so used to this.

So...

Roksu, this should be pretty basic.

He swallowed hard, shivering with pain, and that hand grabbed him by the neck. He had the urge to run, but the pain in his back flared up and his vision became blurry.

Don't fight. Don't do anything.

He shut his eyes. When his uncle pushed him to the side, he felt the agonizing pain of his back touching the hard wall. He stomps towards the door next to him, kicking him as he passes. The door slams on the bat of my heart's beating. He investigated every possibility but found no better explanation.

His uncle doesn't care about him.

He slowly sat down, tears streaming down his cheeks. He looks at himself in the mirror.

His miserable body was only covered in bruises and wounds. His old wounds and bruises were augmented with new ones. His entire body was in pain, but he could not scream because doing so would result in another round of excruciating pain.

He stood up. I took some cold water and placed it in a plastic bag. He gently placed it on his bruises to relieve some of the pain.

His brows furrowed in pain and sadness, and he forgot about the danger he had previously faced.

He looked in the mirror once more.

"Good morning, Roksu. It's a nice day, isn't it?"

He mumbled to himself, but tears only flowed from his eyes. He set the plastic down. His index fingers rest on the corners of his mouth.

"You are not sad; you are happy."

He forced his lips to form a smile with his index fingers. He looked at himself with a very sad expression on his face.

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