The Fugitive's Touch

CHAPTER 2 : VICTIM OF ABUSE

CHAPTER 2 : VICTIM OF ABUSE

A week had passed since Rey first set foot in the prison cell. A week that felt like years to him.

From the very first day, the other inmates gave him no time to breathe. He became an easy target, a victim for those who were stronger and more influential inside the prison. Every day, he was punched, kicked, and insulted for no apparent reason. Rey did not fight back, did not try to resist. He simply remained silent, accepting all the abuse without protest.

What else could he do?

His life was already destroyed. His entire family was dead, and he was accused of being the culprit. No one defended him. No one cared whether he was guilty or not.

Every night, he sat in the corner of his cell, lost in the darkness. His father's, mother's, and siblings' faces kept appearing in his mind. He couldn't forget their expressions, their laughter, their voices. But now, they were all gone.

Sometimes, he wished for death. If dying meant reuniting with his family, he would accept it without hesitation.

Yet his body continued to endure, even as his soul slowly crumbled.

—-

That day was no different from the others. As evening approached, Rey was sitting on the cell floor when a group of inmates approached him again.

"You're still alive, kid?" one of them sneered.

Without waiting for an answer, they dragged Rey to the center of the room and started beating him. Fists and kicks landed on his body mercilessly. He felt warm blood trickling from his nose and lips, but he did not react.

"Have you gone numb?" The large tattooed man who had beaten him before now glared at him with hateful eyes.

Rey remained silent.

The man raised his fist, ready to deliver the final blow.

But this time, something was different.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a fire ignited inside Rey’s chest. A suppressed urge began to surface.

He didn’t want to die.

Not here. Not now.

Just before the punch landed, Rey raised his hand and blocked it. Everyone was stunned. It was the first time he had fought back.

The tattooed man grinned. "Finally, you want to fight?"

Rey didn’t answer. He attacked without hesitation. His fist struck the man's chest, but it barely had any effect. The inmate laughed and retaliated with a much stronger punch.

Rey staggered. But he didn’t back down.

He attacked again, and again. But every time he struck, he also received a stronger blow. His body was untrained, his movements slow, and his strength far inferior to his opponent's.

Eventually, after several minutes of resistance, his body could no longer hold up.

A brutal kick struck his stomach.

Rey collapsed to the floor, coughing up blood. His vision blurred, his body covered in bruises and wounds.

As the tattooed man lifted his leg to kick him again, a guard suddenly appeared.

"Enough! Stop!"

The inmates immediately backed away. The guard examined Rey’s condition and shook his head. "Take him to the infirmary."

—-

When Rey regained consciousness, he was in a different place.

The room was small, with a narrow bed and dim lighting. The strong scent of medicine filled the air.

He was in the infirmary.

His body felt stiff, pain searing through every inch of his skin. When he tried to move, a sharp ache made him wince. But he remained silent.

Moments later, a nurse entered, looking at him with pity. "You're finally awake."

Rey didn’t respond.

"The doctor said you suffered severe injuries. They also want to assess your mental condition."

Rey remained silent. He didn’t care about what anyone said.

Days passed in the infirmary. His body slowly recovered, but his mind remained empty. He didn’t speak to anyone. He simply sat there, staring at the wall, lost in his thoughts.

Sometimes, he cried without realizing it.

Sometimes, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling without blinking.

The medical staff grew increasingly concerned.

One day, two doctors stood outside his infirmary room, speaking in hushed voices.

"His condition is getting worse," one of them said.

"Yes. It seems he's suffering from severe trauma. If this continues, his condition will deteriorate even further."

"I think we should consider transferring him to a psychiatric hospital."

Hearing this, Rey suddenly snapped out of his daze.

A psychiatric hospital?

Did they think he was insane?

Suddenly, the anger he had long suppressed exploded.

"I'm not crazy!" he shouted.

He rushed to the door and started banging on the bars violently. "Don't you dare send me there! I'm not insane!"

The doctors were startled, but before they could react, Rey grabbed one of them and yanked his hair roughly.

"Don’t call me crazy!"

The guards immediately ran in and tried to restrain Rey. But his rage-fueled strength made him difficult to control.

Finally, a medic grabbed a tranquilizer and injected it into Rey’s neck.

Seconds later, his body weakened.

The world around him started to fade.

Before he lost consciousness, only one thought remained in his mind.

He had to find the person who had destroyed his life.

—-

As his body weakened from the sedative, Rey could still see the tense faces of the doctors and medical staff who backed away cautiously. They hadn’t expected the quiet young man to lash out like that.

Rey collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily. His hand was still reaching out, as if trying to grasp something beyond his reach.

Before his consciousness fully faded, his mind drifted to the past—to his home, his family, the last night before everything turned into a nightmare.

Sitha laughing while sharing gossip from her university. Sarah absorbed in reading a novel on the sofa. His mother cooking in the kitchen while his father read the newspaper in the living room.

Everything felt so real. As if he could reach them, talk to them…

But a deep voice pulled him back to reality.

"Make sure he doesn’t wake up anytime soon. We don’t want this happening again," one of the medical staff said.

Slowly, darkness enveloped Rey.

—-

He had no idea how much time had passed.

Rey felt weightless, floating between sleep and consciousness. His head was heavy, his thoughts still hazy from the tranquilizer.

He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt impossibly heavy.

In the distance, he could hear faint voices.

"... maybe it’s best to keep him in isolation for now."

"His condition is worsening. If this continues, we’ll have no choice but to transfer him to a psychiatric hospital."

"But he’s still young. We don’t know if something is truly wrong with him or if it’s just severe trauma."

The voices buzzed in his ears. But there was one thing Rey understood clearly.

They were still thinking about sending him to a psychiatric hospital.

No. He couldn’t let that happen.

With whatever strength he had left, he slightly moved his finger, trying to gather the energy to wake up.

Slowly but surely, his consciousness started returning.

But before he could fully awaken, he felt something cold and rough pressing against his wrist.

Handcuffs.

They had shackled him.

Rey took a deep breath.

They wanted to lock him away. They wanted to discard him like useless trash.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Not before he found the person who had destroyed his life.

Not before he uncovered the truth.

Deep inside his chest, something started to burn.

The will to survive.

The will to fight.

And somehow, for the first time since he entered prison…

He felt completely alone in this world.

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