I woke up with my heart pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to escape my chest, as if I had just run a marathon in my sleep. My body was soaked in cold sweat, my fingers trembling against the thin mattress.
Another dream.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling above me, listening to my own breathing slowly return to normal. I should have been scared—but the truth is, I've grown used to these dreams. They visit me almost every night now, like an unwanted routine. Like a reminder.
My name is Leonardo.
Leonardo Hellmore.
I am sixteen years old. I live in this house with my father, my stepmother, and her two children—children who were never told to speak to me, children who look at me the same way the rest of the community does. Like I don't belong.
That morning, before I could fully sit up, I heard noises coming from downstairs. Low voices. Heavy footsteps. Something being dragged across the floor.
I knew those sounds.
I had heard them before.
I slowly got out of bed and walked toward the door, every step feeling heavier than the last. The air felt wrong—thick, like the house itself was holding its breath. As I reached the top of the stairs and looked down, my heart sank.
There was a man standing in the living room, dressed in black and white like a priest. Beside him were two other men. One of them held thick ropes coiled in his hands. The other gripped cold iron chains that clinked softly whenever he moved.
I didn't need anyone to explain it to me.
It was my exorcism.
Let me explain.
I am an outcast. Not just in school. Not just in this house. In the entire community. People avoid me. Mothers pull their children closer when I pass. Some whisper prayers under their breath. Others make the sign of the cross.
They call me the witch's son.
My father made sure of that.
He told them my mother was a witch. He told them she was cursed—and that curse passed into me. He told them I killed her during childbirth, that my first breath stole her last. And they believed him. Every word.
Every single day, he reminds me of it.
With his words.
With his eyes.
With his silence.
He says I am the reason she's dead.
That I was born wrong.
That I am a mistake God regrets.
And slowly… he made my life a living hell.