Once there was a little boy.
He walked through the narrow alleyways, his bare feet dragging along the cold, unforgiving pavement.
His each step was a struggle against the weight of his own existence.
His clothes hung off his frail frame in tatters, the fabric frayed and worn from countless days of neglect.
It was a silent testament to the poverty that engulfed him like a suffocating cloak.
His stomach gnawed at him with hunger, a relentless ache that gnawed at his insides.
Completely hollowing him out until there was nothing left but the gnawing emptiness of starvation.
It was a constant companion in his journey of suffering.
His body bore the marks of countless beatings, bruises marring his skin like a canvas of pain.
Each one a reminder of the cruelty inflicted upon him by a world that had long since abandoned him to his fate.
A world that had long forgotten what it meant to show kindness and compassion.
He shivered as he traversed the desolate streets, the chill of the night air seeping into his bones.
A bitter reminder of the harsh realities of his existence.
A reminder that even in the darkness, there was no respite from the cold embrace of loneliness.
The dim glow of the streetlights cast long shadows across his path, their flickering bulbs barely illuminating the darkness that enveloped him.
Their feeble light offering little comfort in a world consumed by darkness.
He lifted his gaze to the heavens above, searching for solace in the inky expanse of the night sky.
But there was no moon to offer its gentle light, no guiding beacon to lead him out of the darkness.
All he found was emptiness staring back at him, a vast expanse of nothingness stretching out before him like a void.
A stark reminder of the loneliness and despair that consumed his world, a world that had long since forgotten his existence.
However, in the vast expanse of darkness, amid the cloak of despair that enveloped him.
There sparkled little stars, their faint glimmers piercing through the night like tiny beacons of hope.
Each one a glimmer of light in the suffocating blackness that surrounded him.
Though their light was feeble, the boy could still see them clearly.
Their distant glow offering a flicker of solace in the midst of his desolation.
A reminder that even in the darkest of nights, there was still beauty to be found, still hope to cling to.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
With trembling hands, he reached out.
His fingertips grazing the empty air as he strained to touch the stars that seemed so close yet so impossibly far away, his heart pounding with anticipation.
His soul yearning for the slightest taste of the light that seemed to elude him at every turn.
But no matter how he stretched and strained, how he extended himself to the limits of his reach.
The stars remained just beyond his grasp.
Their distant brilliance mocking him with their unreachable beauty.
Their taunting glow a bitter reminder of all that he longed for but could never attain.
Frustration welled up within him as he tried again and again.
His efforts futile against the vast expanse of the night sky.
His desperation growing with each passing moment as he struggled to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between himself and the stars above.
With a heavy heart, he realized that the stars were out of his reach.
Much like the hope he desperately sought amidst the darkness of his life.
Their distant light a cruel illusion, a fleeting glimpse of the brightness he could never truly grasp.
In that moment of crushing defeat, he felt the weight of his despair bear down upon him.
A suffocating reminder of his own helplessness in the face of adversity.
His spirit broken and his dreams dashed against the cold, unyielding reality of his existence.
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Noel was forced back into the chair, his body still tingling from the grip of Dustin's summoned hand.
The sensation lingered, a ghostly reminder of his helplessness against Dustin's power.
He sat there, his gaze fixed on Dustin, as the questions continued to come, each one a piercing reminder of the darkness that had consumed his life.
"Let's say your father was innocent," Dustin began, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.
Noel braced himself for what was to come, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions—hope, anger, fear—all colliding within him.
"But still, whatever happened to you doesn't justify your crimes," Dustin's words cut through the air like a knife, each syllable dripping with condemnation.
"You let children die. You're nothing but evil."
Noel felt the weight of Dustin's accusation bearing down on him, the truth of his words like a heavy burden on his conscience.
He knew he had done wrong, but in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to feel remorse.
The memories of his own suffering and the injustices he had faced had hardened his heart, leaving little room for guilt.
"I know," Noel admitted, his voice devoid of any hint of regret.
His tone was flat, almost lifeless, as if he had resigned himself to the darkness that had taken root within him.
Dustin's frustration boiled over at Noel's indifference, his anger bubbling to the surface like a raging inferno.
His fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white with the intensity of his grip.
Dustin's voice crackled with anger, his eyes ablaze with righteous indignation.
"If you know, then don't you feel sorry or anything?"
Noel's gaze remained steady, his expression unyielding despite the turmoil raging within him.
He wanted to feel remorse, to feel something, anything, but the numbness that had settled over him was like a barrier he couldn't break through.
"I know I'm evil and I accept it. Whatever I did, I am solely responsible for it. But if you want to know whether I'm feeling sorry or not? The answer is no. I don't feel anything."
Noel's admission hung heavy in the air, his words like a dagger through the heart as he confessed to his own darkness without a shred of remorse.
Dustin's jaw clenched with frustration, his features a mask of controlled composure as he struggled to contain his rising anger.
"How can you be so heartless?" he demanded, his voice trembling with emotion.
"Those were innocent children, Noel. They had their whole lives ahead of them."
Noel's eyes, once filled with the spark of humanity, were now cold and lifeless.
"Because their life or death doesn't matter to me," he said, his voice dripping with chilling indifference.
Dustin's gaze hardened as he confronted the truth of Noel's callousness, his mind reeling from the sheer brutality of it all.
Dustin's voice was laced with barely concealed anger as he shoved a file across the table, its contents spilling out like a Pandora's box of nightmares.
"Is that why you did that?" he demanded, his words crackling with fury.
Noel's eyes flicked to the images, and a twisted smirk curled at the corner of his lips, a smug expression that only served to fuel Dustin's rage.
The photographs depicted the aftermath of Noel's second crime or crimes—bodies mutilated beyond recognition, their faces contorted in a grotesque tableau of agony and fear.
"Is that why you killed them? No, butchered them all?" Dustin's voice was a low growl, each word imbued with righteous indignation.
The question hung in the air like a gauntlet thrown at Noel's feet, daring him to justify the horror he had wrought.
Noel's smirk widened, a chilling contrast to the images of carnage spread before him.
The audacity of his indifference was like a slap in the face, a stark reminder of the darkness that had consumed him.
His eyes gleamed with a perverse delight, relishing the turmoil he had caused.
The file contained the gruesome details of Noel's atrocities, each page a testament to the unfathomable cruelty that lurked within him.
Victims' names, ages, lives reduced to clinical descriptions of injuries and death—every detail meticulously recorded, a macabre ledger of Noel's sins.
Dustin turned the pages of file carefully.
Each photograph was a window into a nightmare, each description a haunting echo of pain and loss.
His heart pounded in his chest, a relentless drumbeat of revulsion and fury.
For a moment, silence reigned in the room, heavy and oppressive.
Noel's gaze wavered, and for the first time, Dustin saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
But it was fleeting, and the smirk returned, more defiant than ever.
Dustin's heart ached with the weight of their shared grief, the knowledge that nothing he could say would ever reach the shattered remnants of Noel's soul.
He had seen too much, done too much, to ever find redemption.
And as he looked at the man before him, Dustin knew that there would be no salvation for a soul as irredeemably lost as Noel's.
The images of the victims—innocent lives snuffed out by Noel's hand—burned in Dustin's mind.
Their faces, their stories, their pain would haunt him long after this day.
But for Noel, they were nothing more than a means to an end, collateral damage in his war against a world that had wronged him.