I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Those were the words I lived with since I was a child. In the pitch-black living room where the lights were never turned on, the only sounds that echoed every day were the shouts of a man who was no longer a father, the sound of something being swung, and the sound of me trying to swallow my sobs.

Even now, as an adult decades after escaping that house, my calves are still covered with scars from that time that haven't faded. Just looking at them brings back horrific memories, so I can't even remember the last time I properly looked at my own legs.

Since then, I have always spent meaningless time in a secluded spot next to a convenience store. Kicking pebbles around, watching kids in school uniforms laughing from a distance, hiding deeper when a large truck approached, and sometimes playing with the stray cats that visited. This was all my life was.

Today, the rain is falling steadily. Having no proper place to avoid the rain, I just sat on the wet ground and let it hit me. It was cold.

I don't know how long I was out in the rain, but a familiar face approached me. It was the part-timer here. A face I've now memorized. But then, that part-timer suddenly held out a new umbrella toward me. ...What is this?