Born from Hate

The morning sun cast long shadows over the small, dilapidated house, where a boy named Ethan grew up. He was a child born into a life marred by pain, resentment, and the shadow of a father who had long since abandoned him. His mother, Eleanor, had never forgiven the man who left them. She had loved him once, but love turned to bitterness when he chose freedom over family, and she carried that rage like a wound that never healed.

Ethan was the living reminder of his father's betrayal, and Eleanor ensured he never forgot it. From the moment he could walk, she made it clear that he was worthless in her eyes, a stain on her existence. Every task she gave him was meant to remind him of his place in the world: a burden.

“Just like your father,” she would mutter, her voice full of venom as she handed him chores. “Worthless, good for nothing.”

No matter how hard Ethan worked, it was never enough. His small hands were often raw from scrubbing, his back sore from lifting heavy buckets. There was no time for play, no time for laughter. Every moment of his day was consumed by arduous tasks mopping floors, chopping firewood, cleaning the gutters. All the while, Eleanor’s harsh words followed him like a shadow.

“You think you’re special?” she would sneer as he struggled to keep up. “You’re nothing but a reminder of the man who abandoned us. You’re no better than him.”

The only solace Ethan found was in the quiet moments before dawn when he would briefly escape into sleep, hoping for a better tomorrow that never came. His mother’s sharp gaze was always on him, making sure he never rested too long and never took a moment for himself. She had married a man, Thomas, who initially despised Ethan.

Thomas had no love for Ethan. He saw the boy as a reminder of a painful chapter in his wife’s life a constant symbol of something he could never have. He made it clear that Ethan’s presence was unwanted.

“You’re nothing but a burden,” Thomas would say, sneering at the boy as he ate at the table. “You’re lucky she hasn’t kicked you out yet.”

Ethan’s life was a constant battle against exhaustion, rejection, and the ever-present voice in his mind that told him he was worthless. But as the years passed, something inside him began to change. The physical labor, endless chores, and constant demands all took their toll. Ethan grew stronger. His muscles hardened, his mind sharpened from the constant strain, but with it came a deep well of suppressed anger.

One evening, Thomas spoke to Eleanor in hushed tones, his words dripping with jealousy and malice.

“He’s growing up to be a man now. You’ve spent years coddling him. He’ll never be anything but a monster, just like his father,” Thomas said, a glint of cruelty in his eyes.

Eleanor, fueled by her resentment and embittered by the years of hardship, agreed. In a fit of rage, she turned on her son, the last of her patience gone.

“You’re worthless!” she screamed, her face contorted in fury. “You’re just like him! I should have never had you!”

With a swift motion, she packed his belongings and shoved him toward the door. “Leave! Get out of my sight! I never want to see your face again!”

Ethan stood frozen for a moment, the world collapsing around him. He had been abandoned twice—once by his father, and now, by his mother. But it was Thomas’s words, those cruel, hateful words, that twisted the knife deeper.

With nothing left, Ethan walked into the night, his heart filled with a burning rage that he couldn’t control. He had no home, no family, and no love. The anger that had been building up over the years came crashing to the surface, and in that moment, something inside him snapped.

Ethan wandered the streets, a boy turned savage by the hatred he had been forced to endure. The world was cruel, and he would show it the same cruelty. No longer bound by his mother's cruel chores or his stepfather's disdain, Ethan found himself in violent skirmishes, each one feeding the rage within him. He stole, fought, and hurt anyone who crossed him, his actions fueled by years of repressed anger. The boy who had been broken by his family was now a man who broke others.

As the years passed, Ethan’s reputation spread. He became a feared figure, a violent outlaw who took what he wanted when he wanted. But even in his darkest moments, the memory of his mother’s cold gaze haunted him. He was never free from the chains of his past.

Eventually, his actions caught up with him. The authorities, tired of his reign of terror, hunted him down. Ethan was captured, tried for his many crimes, and sentenced to death. As he stood before the executioner, he couldn’t help but think of the twisted path that had led him here.

He had been born from hate, raised by it, and in the end, it consumed him. The rage that had been forced into him as a child had taken everything—his innocence, his family, and his life. And now, as the cold steel of the executioner’s blade approached his neck, Ethan realized that there was no escaping the monster he had become.

His life had been a cycle of pain, and in the end, he was only left with the ashes of a broken soul.