But to his thoughts, the door slowly creaked open.
Standing before him was an old woman in her 60's, her face had few wrinkles. Her black hair that was combined with strands of white, and her eyes were looking at him non-stop.
But to his surprise, the old woman just smiled. "Oh, dear boy, it's not a big deal. I've already cleaned it up. Come, sit down and tell me why would a young child do such a thing?"
William was stunned by her kindness. 'why would she be so kind to someone who broke in and eat they're food?' but before he could fully think his stomach already choose to come in.
He found himself sitting in a chair beside the kitchen table. The old woman sat across from him.
her eyes telling him to speak. Her husband joined them, pulling up a chair and listening patiently.
William hesitated, fumbling for words. Slowly, he began to share his story.
The hunger, freezing nights spent on the streets, and relentless bullying that wouldn't stop.
As he finished, he quickly added "I won't do it again," his voice trembling.
Bowing his head low, he waited for their response, hoping they would accept his apology.
The old couple exchanged glances. After a moment, the wife stood up. "How about we adopt you?"
William's head looked up in shock, unsure if he had heard her correctly.
The old man stared at the boy. William's story had brought back memories he wanted to forget in years.
Decades earlier, he had endured the same struggles, fighting to survive and feed his younger siblings in a time when life was unimaginably cruel.
To see a child suffering like this in the modern day was something he simply couldn't accept.
The old man nodded. "She's right. You should stay with us. Plus it's only going to be colder outside."
William's vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. Overwhelmed by emotions he had a hard time controlling.
But the old man's voice was sudden. "Always remember a man doesn't cry unless his mother has died or he's been sentenced to death!"
William froze, startled by the unexpected words. Wiping his tears he stood proud and was thankful for them to adopt him.
Sam only remembered him from when they met in high school. He really didn't know how much he had gone through.
*Whistle whistle whistle.*
A faint whistling sound broke Sam out of his thoughts.
"Greetings, Sam," a voice called out, drawing his attention. A silhouette of a human figure appeared in the distance, shrouded by the night.
walked closer, the sound growing clearer and clearer. Only when the figure came into full view did the whistling stop.
The man standing before Sam looked to be in his mid 20's. He wore a slightly worn out business suit, his tie loose and his messy hair made him look like a tired businessman.
"I am a puppet," the man studied Sam. "Before you ask any questions, hear me out. After that, I'll answer whatever you want."
He paused, straightened his tie, and took a slow, deliberate breath before continuing.
"You're dead. I'm sure you already know that. Now, you have three choices:
1. Relive this life without any of your former memories.
2. Lose some of your memories and live a complete random life.
3. Retain all of your memories but be sent to an entirely different universe."
The man exhaled slowly, finally seeming to relax as he finished his explanation.
Sam stared at him, struggling to process everything. After a long pause, he asked hesitantly, "…Are you… a god?"
The man gave a small, humorless laugh. "I am no god. The concept of a god is far beyond my comprehension. I am merely a puppet of <§§>"
His tone was casual, even indifferent, as though the weight of what he was saying meant nothing to him.
"So, what will you choose?" the puppet asked, his way of talking and being so calm made it feel like it was just a prank.
His messy attire and careless demeanor made Sam think, for a brief moment, that this could all be a hoax.
But then he remembered he was dead. As absurd as it all sounded, something inside him whispered that it might be real.
---
Meanwhile, William slowly closed his eyes, exhaustion washing over him like a heavy tide.
Early in the morning, Ishan arrived at work earlier than ever.
Noticing that the office door wasn't locked. Rushing inside, his heart pounding with fear as he scanned the room.
There, at his desk, William was sleeping, his head resting on the table.
Panic surged through Ishan as he hurried over and checked William's pulse. Relief flooded him when he found it steady, if a bit weak.
But as his eyes scanned the desk, something caught his attention a letter with his name on it.
Hesitating, he picked it up. It was a will. Written by William.