There are many stories in life that transcend their creators, many of them remain in people's minds beyond the expectations of anyone within that generation.
Some stories are told to persist throughout memories, some stories are told to explain something. Most times, stories are made to be entertaining.
If it were to be translated into human behavior, people are obsessed with the idea of creation. Creation being the core aspect of nature, humans being consumed with the idea of power, greed, and inability.
Humans are quite something, they desire the power to overcome, destroy, hold, flaunt, maybe even to simply possess.
Greed, the feeling of wanting something beyond normality. The desire to hold more than what they need, the thought to consume more than they should, the feeling that asks to break limits and take more than they give.
Inability, the inferiority that people will feel naturally in life, the sensation of being challenged by others and the world, the idea of being weaker than what the world asks of you.
These traits, or rather inhibitions that faults a person, faults them to a simple case of classification. If someone were to ask which of them were worse, people would most likely point towards inability.
No one wants to be weak, no one wants to be vulnerable, no one wants to be hurt.
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A night, sounds could be heard, the sounds of flesh colliding, metal being slammed against each other, and shouts that contain anger, madness, and even a hint of fear.
Lingering near a dark alley, a group of delinquents gather together to beat up an individual for their money.
This kind of behavior is typical for many people in this city as they understand the fundamental behavior of people who fall into depravity are those who are careless about their own self-being, self-awareness, and self-sustainable selves.
Every misbehavior or misconduct stems from events in a person's environment. Many being close and personal, a closeness that leaves a mark on someone that remains invisible to them but obvious to others.
The group, slamming the singular boy onto the pavement continue to beat down the child, thinking nothing of the consequences of being caught.
They checked for surveillance cameras in the vicinity. They were used to such actions.
On standby, they got a couple of friends watching the main street to make sure no one bothers them as the others beat and pummel the kind with no remorse.
Some take turns, others jeer and laugh as they watch the violence get inflicted to the lone boy.
No one knows why amongst the group of delinquents they chose this path, no one guided them, no one instructed them, they simply followed their nature that led to this situation.
This is what the boy thought as he was getting continuously beaten, black and blue from the pain, bones seeming on the verge of breaking, muscles aching with a burning, searing pain that causes his heart to accelerate into a fast, erratic beat that makes it hard to breathe.
His name was Gastou, someone who didn't stand out of the crowd, someone who stuck to what he learned in school, obeyed the rules, and never tried to get into conflict with anyone.
Someone who could be declared as a background character in a story, but unfortunately, today didn't seem like the day to be a background character, or maybe him being beaten was part of being a background character.
Like all background characters, they were far from the main scene of the story, one that isn't shown often in the story. Maybe that's why he was deep in this dark alley, being ganged up on by a bunch of kids both his age and older.
Still, he never questioned why he was being beaten, he was just asking, why did it have to be him?
Walking back from school late at night was one thing, being caught and realistically, being robbed was the crazy part to him.
He used to think people who ended up robbed had done something bad to get them in that situation.
But to think that he himself would get mugged for simply leaving school at night. Goes to show just how easy it is to be endangered.
How long have I been getting hit...? one hour... maybe even two?
The only thing steady were his thoughts, everything else about him was shaken, broken, or even taken from him.
The sensation of feeling his legs? gone with the bruises and the rhythmic stomps on them.
His hands and fingers? maybe they were broken, maybe they were fragmented.
His lungs? burning and practically crying out, lashing against his body to take in some oxygen that his bloody and split lips can't even operate.
Nose? broken, can't even use that to help breathe.
There might be more things wrong with him like his organs that seem important but he just can't think of off the top of his head, well aside from the barrage of punches being send into his head.
Thinking positive thoughts, thinking of the good life he had, he simply couldn't remember what else in life had mattered, let alone cared about.
He was just a student, someone who proceeded with their education, hoping to work hard for a good life, a life where he and his parents could be happy. Maybe even make his younger sister happy too but he doubted his little sister, barely a year old would remember him if he were to die tonight.
The only voices in his head were the sounds of his body being broken, the laughter, conversation, and anger from his perpetrator, and maybe the sounds his throat is trying to make but sounding muffled to himself, no longer knowing if he was begging for forgiveness or just simply acted like an animal, not speaking the human language anymore.
Gastou really had no idea what was going on anymore, only the loss of sensation, the loss of anything entirely. The thing that had finally shut him up was a passing kick to his throat, silencing him and silencing his life a few seconds later.
The embers that had persisted through sheer will that Gastou had, were snuffed out, blown out from the wind of accumulated damage, multiple signs of endangerment of his soul being pushed closer to death.
There were no final thoughts for Gastou, only hope that the pain could've ended. He had passed away no thinking of his life, his family, not even the final moments.
He had simply wished the pain would go away.