Son of Calamity: Buried, Betrayed, Reborn
999 Words
Bruce's life was threatened by none other than his oldest uncle, Victor, who had lent him a helping hand when he was at his most vulnerable.
Ironically, before the Buried Alive incident, Bruce had always had a great deal of respect for his uncle.
At the age of eight, he was placed in a children's home. Because of his good looks, he was almost forced to die by a couple of “kindly” male caregivers and the so-called “parents”.
In order to save his life, he, an otaku who had never killed a chicken in his previous life, went ahead and purified those evils with fire.
No one would suspect a child of being a criminal - Bruce thought he was finally safe.
Unfortunately, it wasn't.
How could he be nothing more than a fat, unprotected piece of meat that didn't attract new vicious wolves?
The experience didn't get any better as the children's home changed hands. Three more caregivers died “accidentally”.
The next four adoptive homes ...... hid more dirt than can be described.
Gradually, he earned the nickname “Son of Calamity”.
Just when Bruce felt he was about to be exposed and had no way out, he took the desperate step of contacting his extended family in faraway New York.
Victor, his eldest uncle, came from New York with a chill on his face, and after listening to his whispered account of the “accident”, his face was gloomy, but he didn't ask any questions.
Immediately, he arranged for Bruce to be placed with a normal, kind adoptive family.
It was as if the clouds had lifted and Bruce had finally escaped from the twisted path he had been on.
He thought it was all a turnaround in his life.
Even more so because when he was ten years old, his great-uncle Victor, who had moved the family from New York to the Italian neighborhood of Los Angeles, used to call Bruce to his parties.
At the time, Bruce was genuinely grateful to him - the only person in the family who really seemed to care about him, other than those who ate, drank, gambled, and had a bad reputation.
He even began to get used to the somewhat violent, yet blood-filled sense of belonging to the family.
The part-time job as a vehicle appraiser was also arranged by the family.
By relying on family connections, he was able to survive within this gray industry.
For every transaction, he takes a commission and at the same time needs to work for the business attached to the family's “brokerage firm”.
He knows very well: without the family's shelter, he would have been eaten by the industry.
So when his eldest uncle offered him to give up his personal plans and join the Bureau of Forensic Medicine, he didn't hesitate for long.
It was payback and helplessness.
He hadn't even thought about becoming a forensic assistant.
He liked body art - but not the cut-up, cold kind, obviously.
He had an excellent academic record, having completed all his university courses in two years, and had been highly recommended by several professors because of his appearance and “popularity”.
So he easily passed the forensic exam and became a forensic assistant.
--It is also a high-quality miscellaneous.
Corpse photography, organization sent for examination, splicing limbs ...... these odd jobs a do is two and a half years.
In the first two weeks, he threw up every day. Lost more than twenty pounds.
The coldness and stench that is very different from “sending people to their deaths” gradually broke him down.
In order to maintain the appearance of normalcy, he could only follow the advice of the “doctor” who practiced medicine illegally - to rely on certain “exercises” to release the repressed mental pressure.
Thus, his life becomes more and more fragmented: during the day, he is an assistant at the Forensic Science Bureau; at night, he is a part-time evaluator who “examines the body”, and he also cares for “self-reliant” college students from time to time.
Over time, the novelty turned into numbness, and the numbness turned into depression.
He wanted to quit.
At one point, he even submitted a letter of resignation, intending to leave Los Angeles and start over.
As it turned out, he was nearly buried alive that afternoon.
He lay in the cold mud, finally completely understand: uncle arranged him into the game, never out of good intentions.
All the pretense of warmth would eventually be torn apart by reality.
Anger and coldness go hand in hand.
Bruce realized that he was just a tool.
The following January, he mixed more than ten pounds of explosives through the channel of a psychiatrist.
He had planned to send his uncle and the clan members who did it “on their way”.
But plans never change.
During that time, his adoptive parents were stricken with a rare genetic disease.
He suspected a conspiracy, but the experts he hired at great expense ...... were all for real.
People have to die, but Bruce just wants them to go away in a less painful way.
And the word “decency” requires a huge medical bill.
He couldn't move.
Because his uncle promised that if he cooperated with the three-year program, the family would cover all the costs.
There were less than twelve months left before that “critical year”.
He could only hold on and get through this period.
Now, three years will expire.
Everything will finally be revealed.
*****
Author’s Note:
Thank you so much for reading and being part of this journey!
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- Writer
