Chapter 3: Patching Pieces Together Yet I do not Exist

  Daniel staggered through the desert, half-naked, his body streaked with dried blood. The sky above bore no sun—only scars, jagged cracks like wounds torn through the heavens. Black sand stretched endlessly beneath his feet, swallowing light and hope alike. Fear gnawed at him, but he walked on, searching for answers in a wasteland that offered none.

  A shape followed him through the dunes. A fat man in black, gripping a heavy mace, eyes burning with contempt. Without warning, the man swung, striking Daniel’s leg just below the knee. Pain exploded. Daniel collapsed, teeth clenched, refusing to scream.

  “Daniel Martinez,” the man spat. “Do you recognize me, bastard?”

  He tore at his own pants, exposing a twisted leg. “You crippled me. I begged you not to. You didn’t care. And now—look at you. Born trash. You’ll die trash.”

  He yanked Daniel’s head up by the hair, sneering.

  Daniel’s breath came in ragged gasps, but before he could answer, another figure appeared. A policeman—uniform stained, eyes too sharp. In his hand gleamed a Chinese bone-cutting knife.

  Without a word, he pinned Daniel’s arm underfoot and brought the blade down.

  The scream ripped out of Daniel before he could hold it back. Blood sprayed across the black sand.

  The policeman crouched, lifting the severed wrist like a trophy. His voice dripped with mockery. “You remember that night? You called yourself the judge. My sentence was amputation. And now… tell me, Daniel. Who’s the judge?”

  The words cut deeper than the knife. Daniel’s vision swam, but his hatred burned hotter than the pain.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “You both deserved worse,” he growled. His voice sharpened like steel. “How many people did you drive to suicide with your greed?” His glare turned to the policeman. “And you—a child molester behind a badge. You both deserved to die.”

  His fury surged so violently that the agony vanished. Light flared around his ruined limbs. Bone knit. Flesh closed. In moments, he stood whole again.

  The two men faltered, fear cracking their arrogance. But it was too late.

  Daniel lunged. His fists fell like thunder. Years of rage, injustice, and grief fueled each strike. The desert rang with their screams—then silence.

  He turned to walk on, breath ragged. But a sudden, burning pain pierced his back. He staggered, reaching—then froze as the blade was pulled free.

  He turned.

  A college girl stood before him, a kitchen knife in one hand, a pistol in the other. Her eyes burned with hatred.

  “Lily?” His voice broke, disbelief flooding him.

  She lifted the knife. “You stabbed my father with this.” She raised the gun. “And shot him with this.”

  Before he could speak— Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Each bullet tore into him like a curse. Daniel collapsed, gasping, bleeding into the sand.

  But his tears were not for the pain. They came from somewhere deeper, impossible to name. He wept beneath the broken sky, the sound hollow in the wasteland.

  A radiant light formed at his chest. The wounds sealed. His body restored. Wiping his face, he muttered through clenched teeth:

  “You ungrateful… If you’re the obstacle I must overcome, then I have no choice.”

  He sprang up, rage flooding back. In a blur he tackled Lily, dragging her to the ground. His hands clamped around her throat. She gasped, eyes wide, struggling as his grip tightened, her breath growing fainter.

  Daniel shut his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but they kept streaming through his clenched eyelids, refusing to be held back.

  As he kept strangling her a memory came to him a luxurious house came into view, as if retracing old memories, each room was entered one by one, until finally, Daniel’s room was reached. It was empty.

  Then the scene shifted to baby Lily’s room. Inside, a 11-year-old Daniel was gently caring for his infant sister. Speaking in his teenage voice, he said:

  "Lily, you're the only happiness I have in this world."

  He glanced at the clock.

  "It’s 1 a.m.—time for your milk. But we don’t want to wake up Mom and Dad, right?"

  Baby Lily’s eyes sparkled with determination, as if she understood every word her brother said.

  "Did you really understand me?... You’re the best, Lily."

  With tenderness, Daniel carried his sister to their parents’ room. He carefully lifted the blanket and adjusted Emily’s chest so Lily could nurse. Lily began to feed peacefully.