And this is freedom?

      Neil didn't know how long he sat on the cold sand, how long he spent, mindlessly looking at the burning car, how much of smoke he inhaled and how many tears he shed for his mother.       Finally, when there was no fire, no smoke, no tears left, Neil slowly stood up and, barely moving his legs, walked to the car, leaving a long trail of steps behind him.       He didn't feel sorry for her, but he was too attached to his mother to leave her in such a state. Neil didn't even flinch when he heard the disgusting crackle of dried blood being torn off the charred corpse.       With difficulty placing the charred bones in an empty backpack, the contents of which burned along with its owner, he buried it. All his fingernails were covered in wet sand and mule, but he didn't pay attention to it, staring at the bag in his trembling hands.       He buried his things along with the bag and the folder.       He probably wouldn't need her there. Neil turned his devastated gaze to the raging sea and moved towards it.       He himself wouldn't survive, but surrendering to his father was much worse than just dying. Besides, he could only imagine the face of that fucker when he realized what his son had done. Even when he chose death, he hadn't ended up in his hands.       The image made Neil barely twitch the corner of his lips in a carefree and bitter smile before he stepped into the water up to his ankles. The water, disgustingly cold and sharp, dug into his legs with thousands of needles, Neil even seemed to sit in front of Lola again, small and scared, and look down at how she carefully inserted them under his nails.       But this time everything was different. This outcome was his own choice. The first in his life. And now only one step separated him from complete freedom. One. Fucking. Step. And he would not stop again. Never.       However, it seemed that others had their own plans for him again.       Neil felt a painful prick in his neck and froze. These were definitely not his father's people, they don't use such "humane" methods, but who the fuck would need him anymore.       He wanted to scream, but it was useless: the beach had long been abandoned, and there were only his father's bastards nearby, prowling around and looking for him.       He felt someone's hands on his shoulders and tried to jerk, but they were holding him too tightly. Neil tensed his whole body, preparing for a blow, a push, a kick, anything, but they just stood there. Neil was already shaking from the cold and he thought that he would soon fall off his feet.       A little more time passed and Neil felt some kind of unnatural calm for him. His thoughts became dull, clouded and confused, he stopped shaking, and his legs gave way.       Against his will, he tipped over and fell backwards. Unfamiliar hands supported him and Neil felt himself being dragged along the sand, but he was already desperately sleepy.       Haha, and this is freedom?