"No!"
Anson couldn't bear to see another young, fragile soul fall into the same abyss he once did.
"Jack, wake up."
Anson called out, but Jack didn't respond. He just kept smiling, that tragic smile, watching Anson struggle as if he had already accepted the inevitable outcome:
It was all in vain.
In a sudden move, Anson found himself unable to breathe, and without thinking, he slapped the boy hard across the face.
Anson knew he had lost control. He knew they were strangers, just crossing paths by chance. He knew he didn't have to get involved, and that this had nothing to do with him. But he couldn't stand by and watch another soul wither away.
He couldn't, and he wouldn't.
Because he had once stood at the edge of darkness, calling out again and again, with no response.
Now, looking at the boy before him, he wanted to be that response, even if Jack hadn't asked for it—Anson knew the boy was crying out for help.
*Slap.*
The sound echoed, sharp and loud.
"Wake up!"
Finally, the slap shattered Jack's smile and broke through his resolve. The determined stance began to waver.
A flicker of struggle appeared in his eyes.
Emotions spilled over.
The boy screamed, "Why? Why won't he just leave me alone? I just want to go to school! I want to be like the other kids. I want to complain about too much homework, worry about asking a girl to the dance—I just want a normal life. But why? Why can't I have that?"
"Why!"
Jack stared at Anson, unable to say more, his mouth open in a silent scream of despair.
"Ahh!"
It was anger, despair, and pain.
But it was also a cry for help.
"Ahhhh!"
"Ahhh!"
The gut-wrenching screams of agony were too much, pulling Anson deeper into his own despair. He needed to stay calm, to hold on to the reins of his sanity. "No, you can, Jack, you still can."
"Don't let him ruin your life before it's too late."
"You can. Believe me, you can."
He repeated it over and over, trying to pull Jack back from the edge.
Finally, Anson saw a bit of reason return to the boy's eyes, but the murderous intent was still there, his teeth clenched tightly.
"I want to kill him. If he's dead, it'll all be over. It's that simple."
Anson shook his head repeatedly. "And what about you?"
Jack shook his head in despair, stepping back. "I'll go with him. I'll kill him, then kill myself. That way, we'll both be free."
Anson tried to stop him.
But Jack didn't give him a chance, shouting in desperation, "I don't need your help! I don't want to be someone important. I don't need your saving."
"Don't play the savior in front of me. You're not a superhero, and you're not Jesus Christ."
"Let me go, please, just let me go."
Anson understood. He completely understood the despair and pain. He had once thought that the endless darkness would never end, that there was no light at the end, just endless suffering swallowing him up bit by bit. How he wished someone had told him:
No, it's not like that.
"Jack, look at me, look at me!"
"No, it's not like that."
"No one can save you. I'm not here to save you, because I can't. You're the only one who can save yourself."
"You can do it, believe me. You still have the right to a future, to a life. You don't have to be someone great. Being ordinary is just fine."
"You don't have to destroy yourself because of him."
"He's not worth it."
Jack looked at Anson, stunned, his eyes brimming with tears, and finally broke down in helpless, terrified sobs.
He whispered, "I can't…," his voice filled with pain, "I really can't…"
Anson knew how hard this was. Even imagining it was difficult, and reality was often even harder. But they couldn't think too far ahead; they had to take it one step at a time, starting with the here and now.
There was no time left for hesitation.
Anson quickly glanced back, then grabbed Jack by the shoulders, looking firmly into his eyes, speaking clearly.
"Just—"
"Run."
"Jack, just run. It's that simple."
"Take your mom and run, okay? Take your mom and don't look back."
"Things can still change. You can start over. You can have a future. This isn't the end."
"Jack, do you understand?"
As Jack nodded through his tears, Anson gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. There was no time to waste. Anson turned sharply and sprinted back toward the man and the woman.
The brute was panting heavily, seemingly tired but not stopping, repeatedly stomping down as if trying to crush a cockroach.
The sight was too much for Anson to bear.
With a swift right hook, he struck the man hard and square in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Anson didn't bother to check on the scumbag. He immediately helped the woman to her feet, shouting again, "Jack, run! Hurry, and never come back."
Jack, trembling, tried to help his mother escape, but she was too weak to stand. She collapsed almost as soon as she got up, and Jack's frail body couldn't support her weight.
Just as Anson was about to assist, he sensed a force coming from behind him, accompanied by the stench of blood and sweat. He instinctively dodged to the side, using the momentum to throw the brute off balance.
But this time, Anson wasn't going to let the man off.
"Jack, run! Get your mom out of here!"
With that, Anson charged at the brute again. While the man was still disoriented from the fall, Anson's fists came down like a storm, relentless and fierce.
"Scum!"
"Scum! Why don't you pick on someone your own size? Picking on women and kids? That just proves your cowardice and incompetence!"
"Trash!"
One punch after another, Anson poured all his energy and fury into each blow, striking the brute with all his might, the world around him a blur of noise and chaos.
Glancing back, Anson saw Jack struggling to support his mother, their steps slow and unsteady. The woman, covered in blood, seemed almost unconscious, leaning heavily on Jack's thin shoulders. Jack's legs were covered in wounds, the flesh torn and bleeding, but he didn't seem to feel the pain. He stubbornly pressed on, holding his mother upright.
Their pace was agonizingly slow, and despite their efforts, they kept looking back, Jack's eyes filled with fear and concern for Anson.
Anson shook his head firmly, locking eyes with Jack.
"Run, Jack, run! Don't look back!"
It was as if he were shouting to his past self, calling out to his mother in another life. This time, Anson wanted Jack to keep running and never return.
But in that split second of distraction, a powerful force slammed into his chest, sending him crashing to the ground.