The Newborn
Night wrapped the orphanage like a heavy shroud. The gray room, with its cracked walls etched with cries for help and mocking phrases, was cast in faint shadows by a dim lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The children lay in their worn-out beds, some groaning from nightmares, others dreaming of elusive escapes. But one remained awake—a frail boy with messy black hair and crimson eyes that burned with anger and despair.
He sat on his bed, rubbing his hair and staring unblinking at the lightbulb. He thought:
"The bulb has no soul, no love, and yet... it’s a source of warmth and safety. We, on the other hand, are like shadows... devoid of justice, devoid of light."
He turned to look at a dark corner of the room.
"Darkness is always larger than light... that’s a truth that never changes."
---
The next morning, the children crowded into the dining hall. The foul smell of soup mixed with the stench of mold and vomit. He sat alone, his feet on the chair as he ate, drawing mocking remarks from a group of children:
"Look at this weirdo! Marcel the madman, that’s what they call him!"
"Marcel? No, names mean nothing here. We’re just slaves to chaos."
He paid them no attention, thinking silently:
"Names? They’re part of the system that binds us. Here, we don’t even have real names. I’m not Marcel. I’m... nothing."
But they wouldn’t leave him alone. They grabbed his head and shoved his face into his bowl of soup. He stayed still for a moment, then thought:
"What does justice mean in this place? Pain... it’s all I know. If they think I’ll cry... they’re wrong."
He slowly lifted his head, dripping with soup, and turned to one of the children, locking eyes with him. He whispered in a cold voice:
"What does your ear taste like?"
The boy recoiled in fear: "What?!"
He lunged at him, biting his ear fiercely. The boy screamed as blood dripped to the floor. Everyone froze in shock, even the staff, who rushed to the scene to find the boy crying and bleeding.
---
In the Red Room, the punitive cell, he was thrown in without food or water. The walls were completely sealed, and darkness enveloped him. He sat in a corner, staring at the camera fixed to the ceiling, and began to speak:
"Can you hear me? System... you made me this way. You told me life is meaningless, and now I live without meaning. You told me pain is necessary, so I learned to smile while I suffer. You didn’t create me to be human—you birthed me from chaos."
He took a deep breath, then used his nail to scratch his arm, drawing blood. He tasted it and said:
"This isn’t real pain. True pain... is the system that imprisons me. I will escape. And I will burn this system... to ashes."
---
Days passed before he was released. That night, he decided he had had enough. He crept into one of the hallways, where a staff member was smoking. He ambushed him from behind with a small knife he had taken from the orphanage kitchen. The man fell lifelessly, and the boy took the key to the main door and a box of matches.
The next morning, he gathered the children in the hall. Holding the key aloft, he spoke in a calm yet deep voice:
"We have a chance. There are more of you than there are of the staff. If you work together, you can escape. This is the key."
He threw the key into the middle of the group. Chaos erupted. The children fought over the key; some hit, others screamed, while the staff struggled to regain control.
Amid the commotion, he stood back, watching with a cold smile. He took out the box of matches, lit one, and stared at the small flame.
"Fire... the language of chaos. Let it speak."
He began setting curtains and furniture ablaze. The fire quickly spread. Smoke suffocated the air as screams filled the hall.
He sat there, amidst the growing inferno, watching as one by one, everyone fell to the smoke and flames. When the chaos subsided, he stood and approached the corpse of another staff member, taking the real key. He opened the main door and stood at the threshold, gazing back at the ashes behind him.
He whispered:
"You fought like animals over the key to escape... not realizing you were the key to my escape. You don’t even know how to create chaos properly."
He walked out with steady steps. Before disappearing into the night, he asked himself:
"What was my name again?"
He paused for a moment, then smirked.
"Oh, right... I’m the Newborn."
