The wall of voice finally ended after the other six cards were read. The kids didn't interrupt or ask questions most of the time because they felt hungry and just wanted to finish it. Mainly, it seemed like no one really wanted to help anyone. They didn't actually care about others' struggles. Sometimes, they laughed. Only a few were actually sensitive to others' issues, and even then, it was mostly when they were friends. They didn't care about those who weren't close to them.

"I wonder which one is your card," Lor asked Devon after lunchtime as they sat on a rock, looking down from the small cliff.

Devon smiled but said nothing. His attention was still on some of the students' cards, and he thought about what they had shared. Devon paid more attention to what the kids said rather than what Emily said because he felt like her words only applied if you had parents or someone to help you.

"Do you know how to fight or maybe self-defense?" Devon asked Lor.

It was the first time Devon had talked to Lor without hesitation. He asked the question like a normal boy his age, showing no nervousness.

"No, why?" Lor asked with excitement. She was glad to see Devon's change. "I like the way you asked it," Lor said in a flirty way.

"What do you mean?" Devon asked curiously.

"You asked it like a normal guy. Normally, you're nervous to talk," Lor said, and anxiousness crept into Devon's mind again after hearing her words.

"Oh... mmm, did I?" Devon replied, this time nervously.

"Oh, shit, did I ruin it?" Lor asked, genuinely worried.

"Don't worry. It's... it's not your fault, anyway, that... I'm like this," Devon said, looking down.

"Then whose fault is it? You can tell me anything. You know that, right?" Lor said.

Devon stayed silent, thinking about Reuben. He felt like Reuben wasn't real anymore, as he hadn't seen or heard him in a long time. Devon felt glad that Reuben wasn't here. He thought this place felt calmer than home. Even Sissy was better than Reuben.

"I don't want to go back," Devon said, staring into the distance. His mind seemed far away.

"So, they abused you physically?" Lor asked gently. She looked at Devon, but he didn't meet her gaze. She noticed his Adam's apple move up and down, a sign of his nervousness.

"No, they aren't," Devon lied. He couldn't take the risk of telling the truth.

Lor decided not to pressure him. She knew that pushing Devon wouldn't do any good.

—-----

"Are you the one who wrote about living in fear every day?" Liam asked Devon that night after they went to their room.

Devon blushed nervously, realizing someone had figured it out. He hadn't thought it was that obvious. He wondered if others had also guessed it was him and felt a wave of anxiety. He decided not to take any more risks. From now on, he wouldn't write or say anything in therapy sessions.

"Devon," Liam asked again, and Devon looked at him nervously.

"No. Why do you think that?" Devon asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Because you're the only one who's always scared. No one else acts like you. You're even afraid to talk to people," Liam said casually, but his words hit Devon hard. He regretted exposing himself.

'Maybe I should stay away from Liam. Maybe from everyone,' Devon thought.

"I'm not," Devon said and lay on the bed, lost in thought. He knew tonight wasn't going to bring him any good sleep, thanks to Liam.

"Oh, come on, man. You're scared of everyone. Everyone knows that. Why are you so scared? Why do you try to hide it from everyone? Do you feel special when you do that?" Liam asked, and Devon wondered what the hell Liam was talking about.

Devon felt a surge of anger at Liam for suggesting he was doing it to feel special. Devon knew he wasn't special at all. There was nothing special about him—just a miserable boy stuck in a horrible situation.

"I don't feel special," Devon said quietly. He wanted to scream at Liam, the way Reuben screamed at him. But he was too scared to do it.

Liam said nothing, and Devon felt his nerves unraveling. His mind filled with anxious thoughts. He wondered what everyone in the camp thought about him now. What would Lor think? Would Sissy attack him again? What about Stas—what would he think?

Devon felt like he hated this place. He wanted to leave. He wished he could run away. But where could he go? He didn't know anything about the world outside. A dark thought crossed his mind—he wished he could jump into the river and disappear into its depths.

Tears started streaming down Devon's face as the weight of his helplessness hit him. He didn't even know how to try anymore. He tried his best not to make any noise, convinced he was succeeding.

"Are you crying?" Liam suddenly asked.

"No...," Devon said, but his shaky voice gave him away.

"Oh, man. You're a crybaby too," Liam said with a casual tone that sent Devon over the edge.

This time, Devon lost it. He climbed out of bed, threw the door open, and ran barefoot into the woods. He heard Liam call his name, but he didn't look back.

He ran and ran, the cold night air stinging his skin, but he didn't care. He cried as he ran, letting out everything he'd been holding inside. He thought, at least in the woods, he could cry as much as he wanted, and no one would hear him. He didn't even care if he got lost at this point. All he wanted was to find a quiet, isolated place to let the tears fall freely.

After running until his legs gave out, Devon collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. His stomach burned—a familiar sensation he always felt after crying too much. His body felt weak, and he realized he was trembling.

The moonlight illuminated the surroundings, casting faint silhouettes of trees and rocks. Devon wasn't afraid of the darkness; he'd spent most of his life in a dark basement. But his thoughts betrayed him, conjuring Reuben's image from the shadows.

What if Reuben came out of the darkness? Devon knew it wasn't possible, but a shiver ran down his spine anyway. Reuben was a psycho—unpredictable and cruel. Who knew what was in his twisted mind? The thought made Devon furious. He wished he had a gun. He wished he could make Reuben pay.

"Who's there?" a voice called out suddenly, startling Devon. He froze, shame washing over him as he realized someone might have heard him crying.

A few seconds later, a figure stepped out of the shadows—it was Felipe.

Devon's heart sank. He didn't want Felipe to see him like this. In Devon's eyes, Felipe was strong—someone who seemed unbreakable. It felt humiliating to cry in front of someone like him.

Felipe held a flashlight, its beam cutting through the darkness. His muscular frame looked even more imposing in the dim light, a stark contrast to Devon, even though they were the same age.

How embarrassing! Devon's mind screamed.

He looked up at Felipe, realizing he'd been caught. A wave of dread washed over him. What if Felipe went back and told everyone how he cried like a baby?

Devon's thoughts flashed back to home, to Reuben's cruel screams whenever he cried from pain or sheer helplessness. He could still picture Livia, standing there with that faint smile of satisfaction as if she enjoyed watching Reuben torment him. The memory made his stomach churn.

"Why are you crying?" Felipe asked, his voice tinged with surprise as he stared at Devon.

"Just... nothing," Devon mumbled, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground.

"What's wrong? Did someone try to hurt you?" Felipe asked, his tone softening. He remembered how his younger siblings cried when they were abused by their parents.

"No... no one hurt me. I just... I just miss home," Devon said, his voice laced with disgust. He didn't miss home. He didn't even want to call it home, but he needed an excuse.

"You cried so loudly because you miss home?" Felipe asked, his brow furrowing. Devon pressed his hands to his ears, trying to block out the words. He felt sick hearing "miss home." It wasn't a home—it was a hell. How could he miss hell?

"Devon, what's wrong, man?" Felipe asked, sitting beside him. "Where are your shoes? Your feet are scratched," he noted, noticing the cuts on Devon's feet.

Devon looked down at his feet and saw the scratches. He hadn't even realized.

"I'm so tired of everything," Devon finally admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

"Why?" Felipe asked, his concern deepening.

"I don't miss home at all. It's a hell," Devon said, his words heavy with truth.

"Why? Are they abusing you?" Felipe asked, his voice steady but with concern. He knew what it was like to be abused, but Felipe was a fighter. He always fought back. Now, he worried about how his siblings were managing without him.

"They hurt me so bad," Devon said, his voice trembling.

"Who? Your dad?" Felipe asked, his expression hardening.

"He's not my dad. I'm adopted. And the only reason they adopted me is so they could hurt me and have fun," Devon said, his eyes meeting Felipe's. He couldn't believe he was finally voicing this hidden truth—the twisted reason they had enjoyed tormenting him.

"I'm so sorry, man," Felipe said, his face softening with sympathy. "Why don't you tell someone and inform the police?"

"It won't work. I know that," Devon said. "They'll just put me back in foster care, and I'll end up with someone exactly like them."

"But you have to at least try. You can't live like this," Felipe insisted, his voice firm.

Devon sighed, staring into the distance. Felipe stood up, concern still evident in his eyes. "Wanna go back to the camp?" he asked.

"I just need a minute," Devon replied, his gaze still lost in the distance.

"Are you sure? You don't even have a flashlight," Felipe noted, eyeing Devon's bare feet and the darkness around them.

"Moonlight is enough," Devon said, hoping Felipe would leave soon. Finally, Felipe turned and walked away, and Devon stood up, walking toward the river as if he were in a dream. There was only one thought in his mind—one desperate hope. He wanted to end the pain, and in that moment, he believed this was the only way.

He reached the edge of the riverbank, then jumped before he could change his mind. The coldness of the water engulfed his entire body, and he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper under the surface.