The screams coming from that poor, crumbling house were deeply disturbing to the neighbors. The intensity of the sound left no doubt—it was a woman in labor, giving birth to her sixth child. Despite the severe poverty that plagued the household, another child was brought into the world—another life destined to be neglected, as everyone knew the mother was in no position to care for him.
After several agonizing screams and pushes, the newborn arrived. His cries filled the air, but the atmosphere around him was cold and indifferent. No one welcomed him. To the family, he was nothing more than an unwelcome burden. His mother didn’t breastfeed him, nor did she attempt to soothe his cries. She let him scream until exhaustion silenced him into sleep.
He was a weeping baby in his early days, but as he grew used to the absence of love and care, the crying faded. He learned early that no one would come, no matter how loud he cried. For five years, he lived isolated and unloved—an outcast in his own home.
He barely spoke, and many assumed he was mute because of how few words he used. His older brothers were either in prison or already married and gone. His mother, a prostitute working in a nightclub in a struggling neighborhood, brought in what little money she could.
When he turned five, his family cast him out of the house. He became a child of the streets—homeless, unwanted. But to him, it made little difference. Life on the outside felt no colder than the life he had known within those walls.
This was the childhood of Saru—a harsh, inhuman beginning for a soul just entering the world.
And this... was only the beginning. Hell had yet to begin
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