Step

-I am extremely disappointed in you, Damian Witt!

A loud voice echoed through the room. It was Damian's father screaming.

-Second place! Disgusting result! Not a single article about you is in the newspapers. Everyone only writes about that boy in the first place! And you were only briefly mentioned somewhere! Are you dumber than him, Damian?!

Connor's red face was showing more and more veins swollen with anger. In his hand, he was clutching a newspaper with news, where one of the pages adorned the face of some black-haired boy, and the headline read: "At the annual international physics Olympiad for children preschool won Matthias Kurt!" A little lower in the article, Damian's name was mentioned as a silver medalist.

The boy himself stood rooted to the spot, with his head down, red eyes, shaking hands, and in a confused voice, he tried to make excuses.

-I… I will… next time… I'll win…

His speech was hard to distinguish due to tears and snot, the flow of which he unsuccessfully tried to control.

-You should have won this time! Work harder, prepare harder! What have you been doing?! Sat reading your idiotic little books! If you have so much time, spend it on something useful!

The father did not let up the pressure, pouring all his anger and nervousness on his young son. In his head, he tried to take care of him and motivate him to become better.

-I… I prepared, I tried…

Damian still drowned in sobs, and a stuttering voice tried to justify himself somehow, to cling to at least something.

"Not prepared enough! If you had really prepared, you would have won!"

Attempts to justify themselves only further kindled the fire of anger in the father.

-But I… really tried… And second place isn't that bad….

Before he had time to finish, his father, already red as a tomato, heated up, even more, he pouted so much with anger that it seemed as if his eyes were about to burst, and he himself would be blown away like a torn balloon.

The boy's voice broke, and his body trembled at the sight of the huge, swinging figure of his father. He raised his hand high, preparing to give his son a resounding slap in the face.

-Damian! Dear! What happened!?

A female voice sounded from the other end of the house. Mother returned from work. Her return sharply cooled the anger of her father, who immediately lowered his hand, which was already ready to hit.

After standing for a while, he walked with a heavy step towards his wife, and the tearful Damian remained standing still, covered in snot, with shaking hands and feet.

The voice of his parents, who were actively arguing, reached the frightened boy through the walls. The father poured out his displeasure to the mother, but in a more humane and respectful form, although still loud and with obvious anger in his voice. In turn, the mother tried to calm him somehow down.

The paralyzed little boy stood and listened to all this with an empty head. There was not a single thought, only emotions of fear, resentment, and guilt.

After a while, the argument ended, and Damian heard the sound of light footsteps hurriedly approaching him. His mother entered the room with a complex expression that immediately turned to pity as soon as she saw her son standing in shock and numbness.

She slowly lowered herself and wrapped the tear-stained youth in her warm embrace.

Hugging him tightly, she began to slowly stroke her son on the back of the head, at the same time trying to calm him down.

-It's okay. Dad is just worried about you and therefore can't contain himself. You know we only wish you good…

After standing and whimpering in his mother's arms for a while, he gradually stopped trembling, and his eyes stopped being so painfully red.

Today, for the first time, Damian experienced such a humiliating and stressful situation, but at the same time, for the first time, he felt a feeling of hatred, hatred, and fear directed at his own father, even though, at the moment, he did not understand what it was.

*****************************************************************

Soft orange light spread evenly over the wide expanses of the park, inside which two children walked calmly. One of them was Damian, already known to us. The second, less outwardly remarkable, was Bruce, a red-haired boy, at the moment Damian's best friend.

By this point, the two boys were about to leave when Bruce asked without thinking.

-When are you going out for a walk next time?

Damian, hearing this question, lowered his eyes, folded his arms, and began to shift from foot to foot, squirming a little, he answered.

-I don't know… I need to prepare for the Olympiads… It's unlikely that my parents will let me go…

Bruce, who had heard this not for the first time, continued to question

-Well, okay, but what about after the Olympiads? It will be summer. Let's take a walk!

Damian, obviously expecting such a question, answered almost immediately

-After this one, there will be another one… It will also be necessary to prepare for it…

The interlocutor, however, was not at a loss of words and immediately expressed the following thought.

-But you are already so smart! Why do you constantly prepare for them?

-Everyone is smart there… And whoever is better prepared will win…

Bruce didn't have any more arguments, so instead of discussing a topic that Damian clearly didn't like, he decided to support him a bit.

-You know, even if everyone there is smart, I think you are smarter! You will definitely win, so worry less about it and go out more often!

The black-haired boy's face was painted with a slight smile. He rarely heard words of support.

-Thanks, I'll try…

Damian walked towards the house in high spirits, determined to prepare and win.

*****************************************************************

Various books, notebooks, pens, and pencils fell loudly from the table to the floor. Among this stationery and literature was also lying the skinny, small body of a blue-eyed boy, on whose cheek a distinct blow mark could be seen.

-HOW DARE YOU, YOU SMALL BRAT! WHY DO YOU NEED ALL THESE BOOKS AND NOTEBOOKS IF YOU DO NOTHING! DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ALLOWED TO LIVE HERE FOR FREE?! DO YOU THINK YOU CAN SIT AND DO NOTHING!?

Huge, furious, with a metal-like face, which temperature was raised to an incredible amount, the father was yelling. There was another blow, now on the other cheek.

-WHEN YOU HAVE TAKEN SECOND PLACE, I TOLERATED IT! I THOUGHT, OKAY, NEXT TIME YOU WILL TAKE FIRST PLACE! BAD DAYS HAPPEN! I TRUSTED YOU! BUT WHAT DID YOU DO!? NINTH PLACE, NINTH! OUTSTANDING RESULT, DAMN IT! DID YOU NOT PREPARE AT ALL?! OR ARE YOU JUST TOO DUMB!?

The long tirade ended, as before, with another blow, this time punch landed on Damian's nose, and blood flowed from it in a little colored stream. The boy's appearance slightly reduced the anger of the father. Now his face resembled not hot metal but just a red tomato.

However, this "educational session" differed from the previous round of the father's anger not only because of violence but also because of emotions.

Last time Damian preached pure fear and shame, but now, under the pressure of blows and fiery speeches, his fear has changed, turned into another form. Fear transformed into an extremely corrosive feeling, resembling a double-edged sword, he wished that he could exterminate the cause of this emotion, but at the same time, it devoured Damian himself, taking everything that he had inside in exchange. For the first time, he truly experienced the feeling of hatred. He felt like he was drowning in it, but there was not the slightest desire to get out of there. He did not fully understand what exactly this feeling was. Slowly, he raised his head, all red from blows, with blood flowing from his nose into his mouth, and despite everything, looked directly at his father, which he was afraid to do before, even in a peaceful time.

What his father saw was utterly the opposite of what he expected. He thought, hoped, wished to see the face of a frightened son, who seemed like such a small sheep, would tremble, cry and run. Who, due to fear, was very easily controlled, who would say what was expected of him, do what he was ordered to do, and nothing else.

But in Damian's eyes, he did not see fear. He saw something else, a much stronger and frightening feeling, hatred. Trembling in pain, surrounded by his own textbooks and notebooks, the black-haired boy looked directly at his father with a burning hatred, the absolute maximum of hatred that a 10-year kid could produce.

Oh, his father didn't like it. The discrepancy between expectations and reality caused even more anger, much more. His breathing quickened, and the red color on his face again began to go more like hot metal and even redder. Veins bulged in his forehead and arms.

-DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, YOU SMALL BRAT!!!

Without wasting much time and effort on saying insults to his son, the father began to simply beat his son. If earlier it was single blows, between which he poured out his anger through loud speeches, now it was an ordinary, long series of blows that ended only when the beater had no strength left. However, after a short break, the beating continued at the same pace.

It may seem strange why the father continued to punch his own son for so long, but the answer lay in the short stops between beatings. Always, if the blows stopped even for a second, Father experienced the burning gaze filled with hatred that came from his own son. Perhaps the little boy had already reached such a state when the pain no longer frightened him. It is not known.

But one thing is known - no matter how hard the father beat, no matter what corners he swung from, the emotions in his son's eyes did not decrease but, on the contrary, only increased.

All battered, bruised and damaged, ready to lose consciousness any second, among torn notebooks and textbooks sat Damian. Opposite him stood, all red, out of breath, and sweaty, father. Having wiped the blood from his face and collected the last remnants of strength in his little body, he looked at his father with the same look, rage, resentment, and a desire for revenge storming inside. From the father's point of view, these eyes challenge him as if to say: "Come on, hit me more! Or is it all that you have!?"

Rested for half a second, Father was ready to accept this challenge once again. The imaginary voice of his son mocking him echoed in his enraged head. He raised his large hand, which had once been Damian's symbol of safety and security. Under his loud, animal cry, the hand, like a hammer of a judge who has pronounced a death sentence, quickly accelerates in the direction of his son's face.

It might as well be the final blow for a young man who had only recently come into this world. His consciousness was already on the verge of collapse, so this blow barely drove the last nail in the coffin.

And now, the hand was imprinted on a human face.

But, this face was not small and childish. Instead, it was feminine. Damian's mom, who appeared there at an unknown time, also fell off her feet from the force of the blow, ending up right in front of Damian.

The sharp change in events very quickly cooled the anger of the father. Rage was replaced by confusion. He tried to mentally understand what had just happened.

But, as always, right behind the fallen body of his wife, he again, for the umpteenth time, met those eyes that his son should not have had.

The feeling of anger boiling up inside him again was blocked by the memory of how he had hit his own wife with all his might, so that this time, the beating stopped for a while.

The Witt family, consisting of a father, who is trying to calm down and rationalize the current situation, a mother who sobs quietly in pain, and a son whose consciousness is on the verge of collapse, were silently looking at each other.

Damian, who at the same time wanted to go beat his father to a pulp right now, and fall asleep right here, managed to say one phrase that would mark the point of no return in his life.

-I… hate… you!

The eyes that had radiated hatred for so long were finally closed, and Damian fell unconscious.

-Damian…Damian!

The last thing he heard was the frightened cries of his mother addressed to him.

The feeling of hatred will be fixated in his head for a long time, and who knows, maybe it will never leave from there.

*****************************************************************

The hands of the wall clock made a characteristic ticking sound. There were many young boys and girls in the classroom, and the teacher slowly walked between the rows, handing out sheets.

Damian, who turned 15 a few weeks ago, stared blankly at the sheet in front of him. It had "93%" written with a red pen.

The young man's gaze flickered towards the row of desks by the window, where a thin guy with glasses was sitting, who, like everyone else, was looking thoughtfully at his sheet.

"And he, probably, as always, scored 100%, tch…"

Damian almost instinctively suppressed the rising anger, after which his gaze again unfocused. His class began to actively whisper, compare answers and show off the results, but the teenager himself did not care. Resting his head in his hands, he, as usual, began to pretend that he was actively thinking about something, although, in fact, he was only looking at the clock in anticipation of the end of the lessons.

A few hours later, the cherished bell finally rang, and Damian, who almost flew out of the office like a bullet, was about to head towards his house, but a familiar voice called out to him.

-Damian, come here!

Turning around, he saw the face of his physics teacher and the physiognomy of that same thin guy with glasses. Suppressing his reluctance, he nevertheless approached them and began to silently look at them, waiting when they would start speaking. The physics teacher began to speak after an awkward silence.

-Oh, so, there is an opportunity to participate in a competition of a physic…

But before he could finish, Damian interrupted him in an annoyed voice.

-Not interested.

The physics teacher expected such an answer, so he was not particularly surprised, but the calm face of the thin boy next to him turned into annoyed.

-Why do you always refuse? You seem to be afraid to go there.

He hit the weak spot.

-It's none of your business what I'm afraid of and what I'm not. Go cram the next test's answers, as you usually do.

Damian snarled viciously, then strode away from them with heavy steps.

It is worth saying that since that fight with his father, Damian has never participated in any Olympiads or competitions. Perhaps, he was terrified to go there?

*****************************************************************

The door to Damian's room shook slightly with a light tap. Rising lazily from his bed, he opened the door and saw his father, who was already shorter than his son by now. His contented broad figure no longer seemed to Damian a mountain behind which he could hide from any problems. Now it was more of an ordinary, slightly disproportionate human body.

-Hello, Damian

Father greeted succinctly.

-Hi, Dad

Damian answered in his usual, lifeless voice.

-How were the exams?

-Normal, not too hard.

-Okay… Have you already decided where you want to go?

-Probably to the Faculty of Engineering. I want something related to physics.

-Engineering… More functional area than I would choose, but not bad either…

An awkward silence hung in the air as Damian's father, Conor, tried unsuccessfully to think of something else to talk about.

-Are you okay at school? Are your relationships with classmates normal?

-Everything is good at school. Relationships are normal.

Unlike his father, Damian didn't really want to talk.

-Alright…Well, I'll go then.

After that, Conor Witt hurriedly retreated from the room.

After a long time, the relationship between father and son recovered at least a little, but Damian still could not overcome himself and forgive his father for his traumatic childhood.

*****************************************************************

The sun was shining. A light wind was blowing. Damian stood in front of the university gates and felt an oppressive emptiness inside.

"And once I dreamed that I would become a great scientist, funny…"

Pushing away the annoying thoughts of the past, Damian nevertheless took a step forward and stepped inside the gate.

However, the second after it, everything changed. He could no longer take the next step. There was no university around, no wind, no sun. Only an endless black space with a dim light somewhere in the distance.