The bond between the two leads is the heart of the story.
A naive newcomer imprisoned for a tragic accident.
One night, after a particularly heated argument with my father, I ran to the rooftop of our apartment building. The city stretched out below, lights twinkling like distant stars. I held my camera, the weight of it grounding me. I aimed it at the horizon, at the darkness beyond, and whispered: “If I can’t escape, I’ll make a fire that everyone can see.” I filmed the city’s pulse, the heartbeat of its traffic, its neon signs, its endless motion.
But the fire spread. My grades slipped; my father’s anger flared; my mother’s tears became a constant soundtrack. The walls grew tighter. I felt the heat of every disapproving glance, the suffocating pressure of an invisible cage. The only way out was to burn it down—to let the flames of my passion consume the constraints that held me.