In the dimly lit room, shadows danced eerily along the walls, casting a sinister ambiance that accentuated the gruesome sight before Prithvi.

A whip lay on the floor, stained with his own blood, a grim testament to the punishment he had inflicted upon himself.

His back, marred by deep wounds, bled profusely, painting a harrowing picture of agony and suffering.

As he sat by the flickering fire, its flames casting eerie shadows across his face, Prithvi held a knife over the glowing embers, its blade glowing a menacing red.

The room was filled with the crackling of flames and the sound of Prithvi's heavy breathing, creating an atmosphere thick with dread.

His gaze shifted to an ugly scar on his arm, a painful reminder of his troubled past and the scars of his ABUSIVE CHILDHOOD that still haunted him.

Each scar told a story of torment, echoing the anguish that consumed him. In this chamber of despair, Prithvi found himself trapped in a cycle of self-inflicted pain, his scars serving as a reflection of the darkness that engulfed his soul, as he sank deeper into the abyss of his own suffering.

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦, 18-𝘠𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘚-𝘖𝘓𝘋 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘴𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴, 𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦. 𝘗𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵: 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.

𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝘗𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮.

"𝘏𝘦𝘺, 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺," 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴.

"𝘞𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘥," 𝘫𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭.

"𝘔𝘢... 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘯... 𝘗𝘢... 𝘗𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘭... 𝘕𝘢... 𝘕𝘢𝘩𝘪 𝘩𝘶," 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴.

( 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘥).

"𝘜𝘩𝘩𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥," 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘦.

"𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺!" 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭.

"𝘕𝘢𝘢... 𝘕𝘢𝘩𝘪... 𝘋𝘶... 𝘋𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘢...." 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘺𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨.

( 𝘕𝘰, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵)

"𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘪 𝘵𝘰𝘩𝘩..." 𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪.

(𝘠𝘰𝘶..)

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺. 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘈𝘴 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵, 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴.

𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘈𝘴 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘺, 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳.

𝘓𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘶𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘭𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘺.

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴.

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘈 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.

"𝘉𝘢..... 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘢..... 𝘐... 𝘐... 𝘥𝘪.. 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵.. 𝘥𝘰..... 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦.......𝘢𝘯......𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.... 𝘵𝘩𝘰..... 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦..... 𝘣𝘰...𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴," 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥.

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱, 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳, 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘫𝘦𝘳𝘬.

"𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧," 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳.

𝘈𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘺.

"𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦," 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺. "𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱."

𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘺𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤, 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮'𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.

"𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪," 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘴. "𝘊𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘶𝘥, 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧."

𝘠𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. "𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮," 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴," 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵. "𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘱 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘳'𝘴 𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦."

"𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥," 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦.

"𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘢𝘯 18-𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳-𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴," 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘺. "𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯."

𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.

"𝘉𝘢...𝘉𝘢...𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘢," 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺. "𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱," 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘺𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. "𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧."

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘺'𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦.

𝘈𝘴 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.

𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬, 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺,

𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

"𝘒𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘷𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥," 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰, 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮, 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴.

"𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱! 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯" 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪.

𝘐𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴, 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘥𝘰𝘮, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

"𝘔𝘢𝘢𝘫𝘪, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱! 𝘔𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦," 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮'𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘺,

" 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦 " 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘺, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘺𝘤𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶," 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘭𝘴, 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵.

𝘐𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥.

𝘈𝘴 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯, 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘺, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘺 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘮.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯.

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯," 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘮.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵-𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

" 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪!!!! " 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘔𝘖𝘕𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙.

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His gaze fixated on the scars etched into his skin, illuminated by the flickering flames dancing off the walls. In the background, amidst the chaotic sounds of Kusum's pleas, Prithvi's mind echoed with his father's cruel words.

"Prithvi, open the door beta," Kusum's desperate cries reverberated through the room, accompanied by Manvi's pleading pleas.

"Bhaiya, please open the door," Manvi's voice trembled with concern.

"Where are the extra keys of this room?" Kusum's voice cut through the tension, directed at Manvi.

"Bhaiya took them inside with him," Manvi's response was tinged with worry.

"Prithvi... Beta.. Please open the door," Kusum's heartbreak was palpable in her words, her maternal instincts urging Prithvi to respond.

But amidst the turmoil, Prithvi couldn't escape his father's haunting command, his words searing into his consciousness like the hot blade he held.

"And lastly, this is how you should leave a mark to give a lifetime reminder to that person," his father's harsh directive played over and over in his mind.

With a steady hand, Prithvi brought the red-hot knife to his scar, reopening the wound.

"Tara also endured this agony," he reflected, his mind swirling with memories of Tara.

The thought of her pain ignited a resolve within him, compelling him to share in her suffering.

The knife pierced his skin, boiling the blood beneath, yet not a sound escaped his lips.

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After breaking down the door, Kusum rushed into the room, her heart shattering at the sight of her son lying in a pool of his own blood.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she knelt beside him, gently cradling his head in her trembling hands.

Prithvi's unconscious form stirred a deep anguish within her, knowing that her son was enduring the same torment she had once witnessed years ago.

With trembling hands, she called for help, her voice choked with emotion. Together with Manvi and other servants, they carefully lifted Prithvi's limp body, desperate to get him the medical attention he urgently needed.

Every step they took was heavy with the weight of their fear and sorrow, as they hurried to bring Prithvi to safety.

With urgency in her voice, Kusum commanded the servants to fetch the doctor swiftly, her eyes never leaving Prithvi's pale face.

Suraj, their youngest son, arrived at the scene, his voice barely a whisper as he gazed upon his elder brother in such a harrowing state.

The air was heavy with tension as they awaited the doctor's arrival, each passing moment filled with apprehension and dread.

The room seemed to darken as the doctors entered, their faces etched with determination. Kusum's hands trembled as she gently stroked Prithvi's forehead, her heart heavy with worry and fear.

With practiced efficiency, the doctors assessed Prithvi's injuries, their movements swift yet precise. The air was thick with tension as they worked, the only sound in the room the soft hum of medical equipment and the occasional rustle of fabric.

Reluctantly, Kusum and Suraj stepped outside, their hearts heavy with concern as they waited anxiously for news. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, each passing moment filled with apprehension and dread.

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As Kusum gently cradled the heads of both unconscious Prithvi and Tara, who lay side by side on the same bed, a sense of profound sadness washed over her.

The only sound in the room was the soft rustle of the curtains as they swayed gently in the breeze

Prithvi's entire body was swathed in bandages, evidence of the ordeal he had endured, while Tara lay still, her face serene despite the injuries she had sustained.

Adjusting the blanket around them, Kusum remained steadfast by their side, unwilling to leave her children's bedside.

Outside, the world bustled with life, but inside the room, time seemed to stand still. Kusum remained by their side, her heart heavy with worry, as she waited for any sign of improvement.

In the quiet of the room, surrounded by the ones she loved most, Kusum prayed for strength and healing, hoping against hope that her children would soon awaken from their troubled slumber.

Amidst the tension, young Manik's cries echoed through the house, his distress palpable.

He threw himself onto the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks as he reached out for his parents.

Others in the household tried to console him, offering promises of gifts and treats his parents had gone to fetch.

But Manik remained inconsolable, his heart set on one thing only: the loving embrace of his mother and father.

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As time passed, Kusum sat vigilantly by Prithvi and Tara's bedside. A soft knock interrupted the stillness, and she turned to see Deepak at the door. His gentle inquiry,

"How are they?"

Deepak's presence in the doorway only fueled Kusum's smoldering anger.

His inquiry about Prithvi and Tara's condition felt like salt rubbed into a fresh wound.

"Why have you come here?" Kusum's voice was sharp, dripping with accusation. "You've done enough damage already."

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me, Kusum," Deepak shot back, his tone laced with warning.

Kusum's frustration boiled over. "What will you do, Deepak?" she snapped.

"Today's tragedy is a direct result of your stubbornness and your inability to accept our children for who they are!"

Deepak's jaw clenched at her words, but before he could respond, Kusum continued, her voice trembling with emotion.

"If you had just accepted Prithvi and Jay the wat they are, none of this would have happened! And let's not forget about the real culprit here: SHAKSHI!"

The mention of Shakshi's name hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the pain and turmoil she had caused their family.

As the weight of their words settled between them, the room fell into a heavy silence, each one grappling with their own guilt and regret.

.

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𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙀𝘿...