I Need To Make It Out Of Hell Alive

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Echoes of Survival

The room was cloaked in stillness, broken only by the faint hum of Liam’s laptop. He sat by the window, his fingers idle over the keys, staring out into the brooding sky. A quiet storm brewed within him, mirroring the overcast horizon. Though he appeared composed, his mind was anything but.

His gaze drifted as memories, unbidden and relentless, began to surface. It wasn’t the storm outside that unsettled him—it was the storm within.

**flashback**

The rain that day had been his awakening. A cold, stinging downpour had pelted his battered body, rousing him from unconsciousness. Liam's eyes fluttered open, his vision blurred by the droplets that streamed down his face. He lay sprawled amidst twisted roots and jagged rocks, his small frame broken and bloodied.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Pain radiated through every inch of his body, and the sharp scent of wet earth filled his nostrils. Then, as if jolted by some unseen force, he remembered—his mother’s scream, the shove that sent him tumbling, the deafening explosion that followed.

His chest tightened as he lay there, trembling. She was gone. Just like his father before her. His mother, the last tether to the family he once knew, had sacrificed herself to save him.

Liam clenched his fists, his nails digging into the raw flesh of his palms. He refused to cry. Tears would not change the reality that pressed down on him like the weight of the storm above. He had to survive, for her, for himself.

With shaking limbs, he forced himself upright, his hands scrabbling at the wet earth for support. The slope was steep, and his body screamed in protest as he climbed, each movement a battle against his own frailty, trying desperately to make his way up the slope. But as he persisted, the desperation to escape this abyss stronger than the pain.

When he reached the main road, he stumbled into the open, his arms waving weakly at the passing cars. “Help…” His voice cracked, barely louder than the rain.

Car after car whizzed by, their headlights illuminating his broken figure for a fleeting moment before fading into the distance. The rejection burned, each ignored plea cutting deeper than his physical wounds.

Liam trudged forward, his steps unsteady and his spirit fraying with every passing hour. Hunger clawed at his stomach, and exhaustion blurred his vision. But even as his legs wobbled beneath him, the thought of giving up never crossed his mind.

Finally, a*****e appeared like a beacon in the storm. Warm light spilled through the glass windows, promising refuge. Liam staggered inside, his small body dripping rainwater onto the tiled floor. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, and the aroma made his stomach twist painfully.

He moved toward the shelves, his movements almost feral. Hiding behind a row of goods, he grabbed a loaf of bread, his trembling fingers tearing into it as he devoured the soft, warm slices. The comfort of food was short-lived.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

A booming voice startled him, and before he could react, a rough hand yanked him out of his hiding spot. The store manager’s face was contorted with anger, his words sharp and cutting.

“You little thief! Get out of my store!”

Liam barely had time to process the words before he was shoved out into the rain. He landed hard on the pavement, clutching what was left of the bread.

“Don’t come back, you filthy beggar!” the man shouted, slamming the door shut behind him.

Liam sat there, the rain washing away the crumbs from his hands. His chest heaved as silent sobs wracked his body. For the first time, he felt truly invisible—a nameless, faceless child in a world too cruel to care.

Weeks passed. Liam begged on the streets, each day a fight to stay alive. His small hands trembled as he held out makeshift signs, his voice hoarse from pleading. Few spared him a glance, and even fewer gave him anything at all. Hunger gnawed at him, but he endured.

A kind security guard eventually took pity on him. The man allowed Liam to sleep in an old shipping container at night, but only under the condition that he leave before dawn. It wasn’t much, but it was shelter, and for that, Liam was grateful.

One day, while wandering the streets, Liam’s gaze fell upon a flyer plastered on a wall. His own face stared back at him, younger, cleaner, and almost unrecognizable. Missing Child, the headline read.

For a moment, his heart leapt. But then he saw the name—Johnson . Fear gripped him, cold and paralyzing. They were looking for him. He didn’t know why, but every instinct told him he couldn’t let them find him.

Tearing the flyer to shreds, he turned and walked away, his steps quick and unsteady.

Later, he saw her—Elsa. She was with her chauffeur, her delicate hands reaching out to admire a toy in the shop window. His heart ached at the sight of her. Elsa had been his friend, his companion in a life that now felt like a distant dream. Surely, she would help him.

He staggered toward her, his voice weak. “Elsa…”

When he touched her hand, she recoiled in horror. The sight of a completely unknown beggar, covered in dirt with rough hair and torn clothes, Elsa could not recognize her friend.

“Get away from me!” she screamed, her voice sharp and filled with fear.

Her chauffeur stepped between them, shoving Liam to the ground with a force that knocked the air from his lungs. The man’s blows were swift and punishing, leaving Liam curled on the wet pavement.

“Don’t ever come near her again!”

Through tear-blurred eyes, Liam watched the car pull away. He tried to call her name, but his voice broke into a choked whisper.

“E…lsa…”

The world blurred around him, the rain mixing with his tears. He felt something inside him crack, the last thread of hope snapping under the weight of his despair.

**flashback ends**

Liam blinked, the memory fading as he returned to the present. He stared out the window, his reflection distorted by the rain streaking down the glass. The boy he had been felt like a stranger, but the pain of those moments lingered, a shadow he could never escape.

In the cold, dimly lit bathroom, Elsa shivered uncontrollably. Time dragged on, the silence suffocating her as her strength ebbed away. She was alone, and for the first time, she began to question her resolve.

When the knock came, it was firm, yet hesitant.

“Elsa,” Liam’s voice called.

There was no response. Concern flickered across his face as he pushed the door open. The sight before him stopped him in his tracks—Elsa, curled up on the floor, her body trembling with cold.

Something inside him softened. Against his better judgment, he stepped forward, lifting her fragile frame into his arms. Her head rested against his chest, her body limp and unresisting.

The journey to her room was silent, save for the soft sound of her breathing. For a brief moment, Liam allowed himself to feel something other than anger—something he couldn’t quite name.

But when they reached her bed, he set her down roughly, snapping himself out of the moment.

“Cover yourself. There’s food by the bed. Eat if you want—I don’t care,” he said coldly, turning on his heel and leaving without another word.

Elsa stared at the food, her tears falling silently. Her heart ached with the weight of loneliness and the injustice of her parents’ deaths.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. She picked it up with trembling hands.

“Your parents’ death wasn’t an accident. They were murdered. If you want the truth, meet me. I’ll help you.”

The message sent a jolt through her. Hope flickered in the darkness, a fragile but persistent light. For the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of purpose. She would uncover the truth. Whatever it took.