They had him singing on stage.
The crowd underneath would yell, "Encore!"
Yet, those people had no idea who they were.
Struggling at the bottom like him, they seed eager to trample the ones weaker than themselves, to affirm their so-called "status".
However, they were all pathetic creatures.
Not until he was eighteen did he t a girl.
It was their first encounter, a pitiful one.
At that ti, he was just a minor actor, frequenting various troupes. Because of his good looks, he was chosen by a director for a role with a few lines.
Yet it was this very minor triumph that made him a target for other bit-part players, causing him to be isolated.
In sub-zero temperatures, they had taken away Louis’s only coat, poured dirty water on his bed, and deliberately gave him spoiled boxed als to eat.
Under the cover of darkness, they pushed him into a lake, watching him struggle while continuing to throw stones.
He struggled desperately to crawl onto the shore. His hands and legs were covered in cuts from the stones. Even his head was bleeding profusely from a wound inflicted by a rock.
"Are...are you okay?"
A trembling soft voice reached his ears. He looked up and saw a pair of eyes filled with shyness but also worry. He also saw a delicate white hand extended towards him.
The contrast to his filthy appearance was stark.
The proud boy was only irritated, and he brushed her hand away vigorously, "None of your business."
The mont he struggled to stand upright, he saw the girl’s furrowed brows and worried eyes, which stung him deeply.
He hastily fled.
Later on, he unintentionally discovered the girl’s identity, and her relationship to George River.
At a glance, he could see the vulnerability in the delicate girl.
Contrary to when they first t, he shed his prickly exterior and started to play up his difficult circumstances in front of her, vying for her sympathy.
He successfully convinced the girl to shelter him and to provide him the resources and opportunities he desired.
As he had predicted, the girl was too naive, easily swayed by his feigned kindness, offering all she had to him.
A wolf in the henhouse.
Foolish.
Truly foolish.
She made herself vulnerable, yet he rely considered her a disposable plaything he could do away with at any ti. This person, who witnessed his most pathetic mont, also beca a painful mory in his life.
But now, he actually wanted to see her.
The rain stopped.
Louis’s head was aching, his sight blurred. He fished out his cellphone from his pocket and dialed a familiar number.
The phone rang several tis, but no one answered.
He hung up, and with so reluctance, called again.
Again, no one answered.
No matter what, as long as he called Hannah Winter, she would always answer.
A grim look spread over Louis’s face, and a pallor shone on his slim knuckles.
At that mont, he rembered, Hannah was in the middle of filming a show. She was not allowed to bring her cellphone, nor to leave.
How pathetic.
Louis forced a laugh at his reflection, trying to convince himself that she was nothing more than a stand-in, not worthy of his anger.
Yet, he still found himself instinctively clenching his phone.
In the quiet, deserted street, a haggard boy lay on a bench, his pale face contorted with pain as he tried to repress his surging nausea.
In his haze, he noticed soone slowly approaching in the glow of distant street light.
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