In front of his freshly painted, pristine wall stood a boy—no older than ten. Barefoot. Wearing a ripped T-shirt. His back turned as he dragged a piece of black charcoal across the white surface, leaving thick, dark marks. His small hands were covered in soot, ruining something that had cost Adrian thousands.
“You little idiot!” Adrian exploded. “Who gave you permission to touch my property?!”
Blinded by rage, he didn’t hesitate. He stormed across the room, grabbed a thick leather belt with a metal buckle from the couch, and headed straight downstairs. He was done tolerating disrespect.
Twenty steps. One violent motion.
BAM!
The iron gate slammed open.
“Hey! You piece of trash! What do you think you’re doing?!” he roared, raising the belt high as he charged toward the boy, ready to strike.
The child flinched in terror, dropping the charcoal. Slowly, he turned around, trembling violently. His wide eyes were filled with fear, his small face smeared with dirt, dried tears, and black dust.
“Sir… I’m sorry… please don’t hit me…” the boy begged, curling into himself, raising his arms to shield his head.