Iyak was a brilliant student—quiet, reserved, and always alone. An introvert by nature, he spent most of his time locked in his room, escaping reality through the glowing screen of his console. Games were his sanctuary… a world where he mattered, where he could win.

  Tonight, his room was dimly lit by the blue hue of his monitor. His fingers danced over the controller, sweat dripping from his brow. On the screen, the final boss roared.

  “I’m at level 100 now,” Iyak muttered under his breath, biting his lip with determination. “You’re just pixels to me now… this time, I’ll win.”

  After a brutal exchange, the boss finally collapsed. The screen flashed Victory, and Iyak leaned back in his chair, breathless.

  A small smile crept across his lips.

  “…Finally.”

  He tossed the controller aside and collapsed into bed, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes. “That was a great fight…” he whispered. “So powerful, so real. I can’t wait for part two.”

  But then, reality crept in.

  He glanced at his phone, and the smile faded.

  “School starts again tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Back to that place… where everyone looks at me like I’m some kind of curse.”

  His eyes stared blankly into the dark. “I didn’t ask to be born like this… I didn’t kill my parents… why does everyone look at me like I did?”

  Silence answered.

  The blaring alarm shattered the morning stillness. Iyak groaned, his voice hoarse and cracked.

  “This is it,” he said. “Back to hell.”

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  He dragged himself out of bed, dressed in a white hoodie and gray jeans, the colors matching his lifeless expression. His apartment was small, old, and barely clean—empty shelves, creaking floor, and peeling walls. A life no one cared about.

  He stuffed in his earphones, pulled his hoodie low over his head, and stepped out. The cold air bit at his face as he walked the familiar road toward school, head down, lost in his own thoughts.

  The music drowned the world around him—until he felt something was off.

  A strange tension. A voice… muffled, behind him.

  He turned.

  A man was sprinting toward him—wild eyes, shaking hands, and a gun clutched tightly. For a moment, time froze.

  One of Iyak’s earbuds fell out.

  “No—stay back! Drop the weapon!” a police officer shouted, standing just across the street with a gun raised.

  The robber jerked Iyak in front of him and pressed the gun to his head.

  Iyak didn’t move. He didn’t scream. He didn’t beg.

  He just stared ahead.

  “So this is it?” he thought. “This… is how it ends?”

  The voices around him became a blur. The police were trying to calm the man, hands raised.

  “Just let the kid go,” one of them pleaded. “We’ll give you whatever you want, just don’t hurt him.”

  The robber’s voice trembled. “I didn’t mean this! I just—I just need money! Don’t make me do this!”

  A few bills were tossed onto the pavement. One officer approached slowly, arms outstretched, offering them.

  Iyak looked down. His heart should have been racing. But all he felt was… peace.

  “No more whispers. No more eyes staring through me… maybe this is better than living like a ghost.”

  Then chaos.

  In a flash of movement, the officer tried to grab the gun. A struggle. A scream.

  Bang.

  The sound split the air. Blood sprayed across the street.

  Iyak lay on the cold pavement, his body limp, his head tilted slightly to the side. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading like a blooming crimson flower. A thin stream trickled from the wound in his forehead, down his cheek… warm, yet distant.

  His vision blurred.

  He could see the police rushing toward him—panic in their eyes, lips moving rapidly, shouts mixing with the ringing in his ears.

  “He’s bleeding out—call the ambulance!”

  “Kid, stay with us! Just hang on!”

  But it all felt so far away.

  Then Iyak thought, his voice echoing softly in the quiet chamber of his mind:

  “He was shouting at me… but why can’t I feel anything?”

  His eyes shifted slowly, watching the chaos unfold around him—so much noise, so much movement, and yet…

  “No pain… just silence.”

  Tears formed at the edge of his eyes—not from fear, but from a strange relief.

  “They’re trying to save me… but I don’t need saving anymore.”

  He exhaled softly, blood dripping from the corner of his lips. His chest barely moved now.

  “I’ve wanted this for so long… an end. A quiet end.”

  “They called me cursed… they looked at me like I was a monster who killed his own parents. But now… now I’m just another body on the road.”

  His hands twitched slightly… then went still.

  “My arms… my legs… they’re going numb.”

  The last thing he felt was a soft breeze brushing his skin—gentle, like a whisper from the world itself.

  And then…

  He smiled.

  Not out of joy.

  Not out of pain.

  But from the weight finally lifting off his soul.

  The doctors arrived moments later, rushing to his side.

  But they were too late.

  Iyak’s eyes had already closed.

  His body, broken.

  But his heart… finally quiet.