Scarlet's breath caught in her throat as she pressed her forehead against the cold windowpane, her eyes wide, struggling to take in the chilling scene inside Richard's house. The beautiful exterior—the neat flower beds, the shining windows—had cloaked a darkness so deep, it shattered everything she thought she knew about him.
Her gaze fixed on Richard, small and fragile in the middle of the room. His shoulders hunched, his eyes lowered, his body trembling but silent. He wasn't fighting back. Not even a whisper escaped his lips.
His mother's voice sliced through the air like shards of ice. "You're nothing but a mistake," she spat, her words venomous, her tone hollow and bitter. The gloves she wore—thick, rubber, unyielding—made every touch seem like punishment, as if she was afraid to come near him.
Scarlet's chest tightened painfully. *How can someone treat their own child like this?* The thought echoed in her mind, sharp and relentless.
The mother shoved Richard roughly, pushing him away as if he were dirt on the floor. The look in her eyes was pure disgust—an expression Scarlet had never seen on a mother's face before, but she now understood was real.
Then his father appeared, stepping into the room like a dark storm. His voice was low and cruel. "You're a burden. A stain on this family," he said, his eyes cold and unforgiving.
Richard didn't resist. He didn't cry or plead. He simply stood there, broken and small, like a wilted flower left to wither.
Scarlet's heart pounded, her mind spinning with the viciousness she was witnessing. *I thought I was harsh to him... but this—this is something else.*
She watched as the mother turned her back on Richard, slipping her hands into her gloves again to avoid contact. The sight was almost unbearable—a child touched only through plastic barriers, as if he carried some unseen filth.
Her eyes shifted to his arms—fresh bruises bloomed under his thin sleeves. Marks that screamed silent stories of pain. Her fingers clenched into fists. She had beaten him, yes—but she had never seen this. Never known this.
The room grew colder in her vision as the father grabbed Richard's arm with rough force, yanking him toward the door. The mother's eyes flared with fury.
"You're done here," she hissed, voice like ice shards. "Get out. Go drown in the rain. We don't want you here."
Outside, the sky had darkened, and a cold, relentless rain began to fall. Richard stumbled out into the storm, soaked instantly, his soaked clothes clinging to his thin frame.
Scarlet's breath hitched as the door slammed shut behind him—a final, unforgiving barrier between Richard and the family that should have protected him.
She remained frozen in place, her hand pressed to the window, heart pounding like a war drum. The image of Richard, abandoned and drenched in rain, carved itself into her soul.
*How could they?* The question reverberated inside her like thunder.
A wave of helplessness crashed over her, mingling with the sharp sting of guilt that gnawed at her pride. *I was so cruel to him… and I never even knew this was happening.*
Her thoughts spiraled—scattered, raw, conflicted.
*He hides all this pain behind silence. Behind those scars I saw today. And I was just... mean. I was one of his tormentors.*
Scarlet's vision blurred as tears threatened to spill, but she blinked them away stubbornly.
No. She wouldn't let herself break down like that—not yet.
But deep inside, something had shifted. The queen bee, untouchable and proud, was cracking.
Her heart ached fiercely for Richard, yet she was scared—scared of what this truth meant, scared of what she might do next.
Outside, the rain kept falling, washing the world clean. But inside Scarlet, the storm was just beginning.