Ember Stone

When I was twelve years old, I picked up a stone in an abandoned alley. It's off-white, with a surface covered with cracks. It gets hot when held in the palm of your hand, synchronizing with your heartbeat. I later discovered that this stone could absorb malicious intent. Every time I was bullied, isolated, and pushed out of breath by the world, the stone would become hot and suck in the malice. I thought it was protecting me. Until my parents started to become indifferent, until people who were close to me were inexplicably hurt, until a voice repeatedly said in my ears: Just do a small bad thing and transfer the malice to the people around you, and everything will be fine. What that voice said was true. I tried. Very relaxing. But I looked at the girl I hurt - she clearly saw through my malice, but she just asked quietly: "Do you believe it yourself?" Do I believe it? I don't believe it. Then I remembered something. I remembered that this was not the first time I stood on the rooftop. It reminds me that I have lived in the same age group many times. I remember that at the end of every cycle, I made the same choice. This time too. "Do it again."