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Jean’s hands trembled as he typed the message to Renee, each word carrying the weight of a final goodbye. He didn’t understand why he felt this certainty, this suffocating premonition, but it was there—raw and unyielding. He was going to die tonight. It was the only truth that made sense.
Maybe it was to leave a mark, to send a signal so someone would find him—someone would finally speak up. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a small shred of hope, a desperate hope that somehow, against all odds, someone might come to save him. He didn’t know. All he knew was that he needed to reach out.
Minutes later, Riko’s boot slammed into his chest with a sickening crack. The force of the kick sent Jean’s body twisting in pain, and he fought back the scream that threatened to escape his lips. His ribs splintered under the brutal pressure, each crack sending waves of agony through his entire body. He could feel the breath leave his lungs, but it was replaced by a burning desperation to hold on, even as his body betrayed him.
The kicks continued relentlessly, Riko’s boot driving into him over and over. Jean could feel the time slipping away, could feel his body breaking with every blow. The pain was a constant, suffocating presence, gnawing away at his sanity. Two hours. It could have been longer. He couldn’t tell. All that existed was the pain, a crushing weight that buried him deeper into darkness.
And then, with a final kick to his chest, Jean’s vision blurred and his body went limp. His mind faded, and for a moment, he thought that might be the end.
But then he woke, the sharp pain in his chest dragging him back to the present. Every breath felt like a battle, the air coming in ragged gasps, as if his lungs were refusing to cooperate. Jean knew what was happening. He was dying. It wasn’t a question anymore, it was a fact.
In a haze, his hand reached for his phone. His fingers brushed the screen, and he barely understood the action—his vision was already clouding, a swirling blur of shapes and memories mixing together. He didn’t even register what he was doing until the first memory hit him.
He was back in France. He could almost taste the salty air of St Anne’s, feel the soft grass beneath him as he sat in the Moreau family’s backyard. His sister sat beside him, her face lit up with the innocent joy of a child.
She was reading her bird book, her voice full of excitement as she rambled about the different species. Jean smiled at her, watching the way her eyes sparkled with life. She was ten, the age he would forever remember her as—the age she was when he left France.
He reached out and ran his fingers gently through her hair, brushing it back from her face. He whispered softly, “I love you.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes soft with affection. “I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice light and full of warmth. “You’re the best.”
The memory started to blur, fading as the pain in his chest became unbearable. He coughed, blood spilling from his lips as he shook violently, another wave of agony hitting him. His vision went dark for a second, but then another memory began to form.
A familiar voice cut through the fog. “Can you teach me? When he’s not looking?”
Jean’s gaze flickered upward, his blurry vision focusing just enough to see Kevin standing in front of him. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest as he remembered the boy’s earnest eyes, his green eyes that seemed to hold the weight of the world.
“It could be our secret,” Kevin whispered, his voice low, teasing, but full of sincerity.
Jean swallowed hard, remembering how he had fallen in love with those eyes, those eyes that had captivated him the first moment he saw them. Kevin had been everything Jean had wanted, everything he couldn’t have. It had been foolish to fall for him, and it had been even more foolish to think that Kevin would ever see anything beyond the exy court.
But that was the past. And now, it was slipping away.
The pain in his chest intensified, and he felt himself losing control of everything around him. His phone closer to his ear then he last remembered. The voice that came through the speaker was strained, filled with desperation.
“Jean. I’m almost there, hold on.”
It was Renee. The sound of her voice made him feel like he might have something to hold onto in this abyss. He wheezed, barely able to speak. “Renee…” He didn’t even know when he’d called her. Her face filled his vision—her rainbow-colored hair, vibrant even in his fading state.
Renee had spark been a light in his life. Even though his world had been shrouded in darkness for years, Renee had been a force. Her texts, her words, had given him the tiniest thread of hope, making him believe that there was still something worth fighting for.
“I’m almost there,” she said softly, but in the background, Jean could hear someone else talking. It didn’t matter. Her voice was all he needed.
Jean closed his eyes slowly. The world around him dimmed, and he knew the end was near. His mind raced, and he wanted to say so much—apologize to Renee, to Kevin, to everyone who had ever cared about him. But he couldn’t. It was too late.
With a final, shuddering breath, the pain finally left his body. Jean’s heart stilled.
Minutes later, Renee arrived, her heart sinking as she saw him lying there, his body still warm but lifeless. She rushed to his side, holding him tightly, her tears falling silently. She didn’t attempt to revive him; she knew he didn’t want that. She just held him, feeling the weight of everything that had been lost.
Jean was free. Free from the pain, from the darkness, from the cage he’d been trapped in. Free, just like he’d wanted to be.