Chapter 4: A Cruel Awakening

Levi's hope of a better life quickly turned to despair as he began living with his biological mother. The villagers' pressure had forced Marcella to take him in, but any glimmer of a mended relationship between mother and son was swiftly dashed. The first day under her roof felt like a cruel awakening. The evening sun had sunk beneath the horizon as they entered the decrepit house, the same house where Levi had awoken in this unfamiliar world four years ago. Memories stirred within him, and the reality of his situation began to sink in.

Despite sharing the same village for years, a stark absence of maternal curiosity persisted in Marcella's heart. Not once had she ventured to inquire about the child she had cast aside, the little life she had brought into this world. Her detachment painted a bleak picture, one that stood in stark contrast to the warmth that Rivera had selflessly bestowed upon him.

Rivera, the kind and nurturing midwoman, had been a steadfast guardian of Levi's innocence. She had shielded him from the reality that his mother's heart remained closed. And so, despite his proximity to Marcella within the same village, Rivera had never orchestrated a meeting between the two.

Guided by his mother, Levi stepped into the confines of his new living space, a room that seemed to mirror the desolation he felt deep within. The air was musty, a heavy scent of neglect hanging in the dimly lit space. The single window offered a faint glimmer of fading daylight, casting elongated shadows on the bare walls.

"Here's where you'll be staying," Marcella's voice held an edge of impatience as she gestured toward the wooden plank on the floor. Her eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth that might have existed between a mother and her child.

Levi hesitated, his small frame absorbing the starkness of the room. "It's not much, but it's your bed," Marcella's words were dismissive, as though she was addressing a burden rather than her own flesh and blood.

As she turned to leave, Levi couldn't suppress the question that welled up within him. "Why don't we have a real bed like the others?"

Marcella's gaze hardened as it settled on him, her response cutting through the silence like a frigid wind. "You're lucky you have a place to sleep at all." The words, devoid of any tenderness, fell with the weight of a heart's indifference.

Her departure left Levi with a mix of emotions he struggled to contain. "This Bitch", Levi whispered, anger bubbled within him, a visceral reaction to the blatant disregard he had just experienced. The very idea that a mother could relegate her own child to such harsh conditions ignited a fire of indignation.

As the room darkened and the chill of night crept in, a sense of isolation enveloped him. Hunger gnawed at his belly, a gnawing ache that remained unattended. The hollowness in his stomach mirrored the emptiness he felt inside, a void left by a mother's absence both physical and emotional. Wrapped in the folds of a threadbare, tattered blanket that he had retrieved from the corner, Levi tried to find solace against the frigid weather that seeped through the cracks. The blanket, stained and worn, was a poor defense against the biting cold that snaked its way into his bones.

His breath formed frosty clouds in the cold air as he lay there, shivering and alone. The night dragged on, a seemingly endless stretch of darkness that echoed the isolation he had grown to know all too well.

The following days became an agonizing ordeal for Levi, each passing moment weighed down by the unbearable weight of neglect and maltreatment. His stomach growled hunger's cruel song, a constant reminder of his meager and irregular meals. His mother's silence was a haunting presence, a suffocating void that engulfed him. The mere sound of her voice had become a distant memory, replaced by a string of curt commands that pierced through the air like a knife.

Yet, the abuse Levi endured cut even deeper. Her anger manifested in brutal physicality, leaving behind not only bruises on his small body but also scars. She used anything at her disposal as a weapon, leaving Levi to desperately fend off her onslaught with a futile defense that his frail form could not withstand. The pain was both physical and emotional, a relentless onslaught that chipped away at his sense of self-worth. He was abused by that bitch.

In the midst of this grim existence, Levi's curiosity gnawed at him. Marcella's refusal to work puzzled him – how did she manage to sustain herself? The answer would arrive in a startling revelation during the first week of his life with her. A knock on the door heralded the arrival of a familiar figure – a middle-aged man whom Levi recognized as the village chief.

The tension in the room was palpable as Marcella's voice rose, accusing the village chief of complicity in the decision to foist Levi upon her. The blame was a heavy burden she sought to place on anyone but herself. The village chief's stoic demeanor contrasted with Marcella's ire, his response measured and deliberate.

"Marcella," the village chief began, his tone steady yet firm. "I understand your frustration, but the truth is that none of the villagers were willing to step forward and take care of Levi. It was a unanimous decision that you, as his mother, should bear this responsibility."

Marcella's eyes blazed with anger, her fists clenched at her sides. "You all forced me into this," she retorted, her voice laced with bitterness. "No one cared when I needed help."

Marcella's fury clashed against the village chief's composed demeanor, creating an atmosphere fraught with tension. His eyes, weathered by years of leadership, held a mixture of empathy and resolve. "Marcella," he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of experience, "I understand your anger, but you must also understand that my role as village chief is not as simple as it may seem."

Marcella's lips curled with disdain. "You're the one in charge," she retorted bitterly. "You could've stopped this from happening."

A somber sigh escaped the village chief's lips, his gaze meeting hers unwaveringly. "You're right, I could have voiced my opposition, but the truth is more complex.

Marcella's anger began to ebb, replaced by a begrudging understanding. "So, you're saying you couldn't risk your position by opposing the villagers?"

The village chief's nod was accompanied by a rueful smile. "Precisely." As Marcella absorbed the village chief's explanation, a subtle shift occurred in her demeanor. Her rapid breaths gradually steadied, and the tension that had tightened her shoulders began to ease. She recognized the weight of his words and the truth behind his explanation. While the flames of her anger still smoldered within, they were now tempered by a flicker of reluctant understanding.

The village chief's presence commanded a certain respect, and Marcella chose her words carefully. She hesitated, the impulse to continue arguing battling against the knowledge that it might not yield the desired result.

Levi stood in the shadows, an inconspicuous observer of the unfolding exchange between Marcella and the village chief. His eyes, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, remained fixed on the scene before him.

Levi's understanding remained incomplete, much like a jigsaw puzzle missing its vital piece. He wondered about the nature of this encounter, why the village chief would personally involve himself in Marcella's affairs. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for an answer to emerge from the depths of their conversation. And then, as if the first rays of dawn breaking through the horizon, the answer unveiled itself before Levi's eyes.