Finn thought that since he wanted a beautiful fairy tale ending, he shouldn't bury such dark secrets in this conclusion.
So, Finn chose to come here.
He personally pushed aside the heavy bed, ensuring that the secret passage would no longer remain an unknown secret.
The moment he reached out his hand, another hand suddenly pressed down hard on the back of his hand from behind.
Finn paused, turning his head to look at Peter, who was pressed tightly against his back.
When he thought Peter was going to stop him, he instead heard Peter say in a dry, hoarse, yet exceptionally firm voice—
I'm with you.
"Okay." Finn curled his lips into a slight smile and nodded gently.
The hidden door, which had been sealed for two years, was finally pushed open slowly at this moment.
A creaking sound.
The entrance to the dim, narrow passage was lined with several steps, descending into the depths as if leading into an endless, unknown darkness.
At the same time, an old scent mixed with the smell of rust, mold, dust drifted toward them.
It hung heavily around the two of them.
"Finn, are you afraid?" Peter thought of Finn's claustrophobia and asked softly, nervously squeezing the young man's hand.
"I'm not afraid anymore." Finn shook his head solemnly. At this moment, he only felt that he had more important things he had to do.
"I'll go in first," Peter said insistently after taking a deep breath.
Peter turned on the flashlight on the back of his phone, his palms sweating profusely as he tightly held Finn's hand, stepping slowly down the cold stairs. Perhaps it was psychological, but with every step down, a more bone-chilling cold made Peter shiver.
Every step felt heavier, making him feel even more overwhelmed.
Peter could only grip Finn's hand even tighter, hoping to give all of his warmth and strength to Finn.
Although our father is strict with us sometimes, most of the time he is kind.
At least, that's what I thought when I was young.
In the dark, enclosed passage, Finn's calm, low voice slowly rang out.
You know what's terrifying is—
Sometimes, a person disguises themselves so well that it truly makes people believe he is a good person.
Including his own child.
Finn began to calmly recount the past again, though his voice sounded exceptionally indifferent.
Palman is a fairly famous violinist here; he generously took in abandoned children like us, giving us a warm and lively home. Our father was friendly to everyone, whether adults or children, he maintained excellent relationships with the parents of his students.
My father is terrifying when he is in a manic phase, but that doesn't change my view that he is a very good person.
I was once very grateful that I had such a father.
I trusted him, respected him, admired him.
Yet, it was a man wearing such a mask of hypocrisy who personally pushed his own family into a hell of bloody despair.
By the light of his phone, Finn felt his way to the only light bulb pull chain in the secret room and gave it a gentle tug.
The dim yellow light suddenly flickered on, illuminating the small, enclosed secret room.
Peter's breath hitched instantly, his chest tightened abruptly.
On the ground before his eyes, large patches of dried, blackened brown bloodstains were congealed. On the floor were several pieces of a broken wooden chair, in the corner lay a twisted, stiff belt. Spider-Man's vision was excellent, enough for him to clearly see that the belt was also soaked in layers of solidified bloodstains, with dark red rust mottled across the buckle. There were also bloodstains remaining on the walls; every detail deeply stung Peter's sight and nerves.
Every mottled trace silently testified to the brutal atrocities that had once occurred here.
And those winding bloodstains stretched all the way to an old wooden wardrobe by the wall.
Peter couldn't stop shaking, his breathing rapid and irregular, as a suffocating sense of collapse surged through him once again. He suddenly remembered that night, when Finn was trapped in a nightmare, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't open that door, the desperate, helpless cries for help erupted from within his heart.
Let me out!
Save me! I want to get out!
Don't lock me up..
[Someone.. someone come save me..]
—Are you here?
—Is this where you were kept?
At this moment, Peter Parker seemed to have lost all sensation and ability to move, standing silently in place, yet he could clearly visualize it in his mind. That eight-year-old boy, simply because he did what he believed was right, hoping that the family he admired and loved most could face their mistakes and take responsibility, was instead brutally beaten until he was covered in wounds. Those cries for help, so desperate and heartbreaking, were cut off by thick walls and drowned in the deepest darkness, where no one could hear them.
A dense, surging pain thrashed in his chest, so intense it nearly suffocated Peter to the point of madness.
Peter's bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at that wooden cabinet, wishing he could pierce through the door to glimpse and endure all the suffering that the child had endured back then.
This is my family's discipline room.
Finn's voice remained steady, without much fluctuation, yet it carried an incredibly heavy weight.
No one can challenge Father's authority.
As long as you defy his will and commit the mistakes he deems wrong, you must come here to be punished.
When we make mistakes, when our mothers make mistakes, we are brought here to be punished." Finn grabbed Peter's trembling hand in his own and continued, "Most of the time, it's just a few lashes with a violin bow, nothing much.
More serious mistakes mean being locked inside that wooden cabinet," Finn said, staring calmly at the wooden cabinet. "Just like a solitary confinement cell.
All children would accept punishment willingly, because they fear.. being abandoned by their families again even more.
I only realized later that our mother must have endured many more unknown punishments here, but back then, I was too young and ignorant to know." Finn Osborn's gaze dimmed. "It wasn't just that; there were many things I only realized after becoming the System. For example, Lily Wilson wasn't the only victim; many more innocent girls were deceived, controlled, violated just like Lily, our mother was a victim as well. One cruel thing is that my mother could never resist Palman; she had become completely submissive due to the day-after-day torment, even becoming an accomplice to Palman and committing many wrongdoings herself.
Her submissiveness, her endurance, her inability to resist—half of it stemmed from a fear deep in her bones, the other half was to do everything in her power to protect us children.
Actually, you've already seen very detailed information about these matters in the police investigations and media reports from years ago." Finn turned his head, his emerald eyes quietly looking toward Peter, "Then I'll tell you the parts you don't know.
When I let Lily go back then, I already knew my father would be furious.
At that time, although I knew Father had done something wrong, I naively thought.. he just loved Lily too much. I thought that as long as I stood up bravely, I could correct this mistake.
I know Father will face punishment for this mistake.
But.. isn't this how it should be?
Finn lowered his eyes, his long eyelashes casting shadows over a pair of inorganic green eyes, his tone so calm it was almost indifferent.
What he always taught us was—if you do something wrong, you must be punished.
"But no matter what happens, I think we are always a family. Even if Father has made mistakes, he will always be the most important person to us. I cannot let Father continue down this wrong path; I cannot let the innocent Wilson family be harmed because of Father's mistakes, I cannot let Lily's entire life be ruined because of Father's faults." But back then, the young Felix had no idea; what he thought he could correct was merely a small part of Palman's unforgivable crimes.
And he had no idea that beneath Palman's perfect, respected, elegant mask lay those filthy, heinous, unknown misdeeds. That mask was a disguise he had meticulously maintained his entire life, one that could not tolerate anyone—not even his own child—piercing or exposing it.
And after that, I was locked up here.
Compared to the way he used to chatter incessantly in front of Peter about the many wonderful and interesting stories from his childhood, Finn's words had become concise now. He had clearly and deliberately omitted too many details from this story, omitting those heart-wrenching screams, omitting that bone-deep pain, omitting that unbearable agony.
A simple "close" was nowhere near enough to depict the kind of hellish devastation and torture that had descended upon this place.
An innocent child, who knew nothing of the malice of human nature or the ugliness of the world, had somehow endured the most indifferent and sinister malice the world had to offer.
The child in that recorded surveillance footage isn't me.
Peter froze, staring blankly at Finn.
It's Ella.
Her build is similar to mine. She put on my jacket and hat, so no one would know who that child actually was when she ran out.
When he saw the surveillance video being circulated, Finn recognized it at first glance.
“Palman naturally knows the layout of the surrounding surveillance, Ella must have simply been following our father's instructions, pretending that I escaped in the middle of the night and then quietly returned through a blind spot.”
Peter understood immediately. The man's purpose in doing this was to perfectly cover up Finn's disappearance. He could still pretend that nothing had happened, acting as if it were just a case of a son running away from home in a fit of temper, continue to play the part of the loving father anxiously concerned about his son's whereabouts, maintaining his perfect image in the eyes of outsiders.
So the truth was just that simple.
—that tiny figure, seen running recklessly through the night, whose image has been circulated across the entire internet;
—That "little hero" who carries countless expectations, desperately fleeing from hell in the early hours of the morning;
—That boy from that heartbreaking tragedy, who was showered with countless sympathies and regarded as the sole lucky survivor..
From beginning to end, he never escaped.
As it turned out, he was the first victim.
The future of Felix that everyone wanted to know had long been buried in the pitch-black night of that winter two years ago.
Peter had long since been in tears, sobbing so hard he couldn't make a sound; the weight of the truth was even more cruel than he had imagined. He simply could not fathom what kind of unimaginable suffering a boy had endured here until the end of his life, Felix's death was not the end of this tragedy, but rather the beginning of all evil spiraling completely off the rails and becoming increasingly frenzied and out of control.
At this moment, there was only one incredibly urgent and resolute thought in Peter Parker's heart.
—He must take him out.
——He must take Felix out.
Peter walked slowly toward the wardrobe, his fingertips trembling uncontrollably as he slowly raised his hand to touch the cold, rough door of the cabinet.
It's empty.
Felix isn't inside.
Peter's pupils contracted, his raised hand frozen in mid-air, as he turned in shock to look at Finn.
—If not here, then where is Felix?
Finn did not answer Peter immediately but instead began to recall the last remaining, living memories he had of Felix.
That was the clearest and most bone-chilling mark at the end of his life.
Trapped in the wardrobe and bleeding uncontrollably, he had been crying out for help.
But his voice couldn't reach the outside at all.
There was only boundless darkness, a heavy scent of blood, endless pain, slowly enveloping his increasingly cold body.
After an unknown amount of time suffering in the darkness, he finally heard approaching footsteps.
It was Father returning.
At that time, Felix held a faint glimmer of hope in his heart; he thought he had finally endured until—the moment the punishment ended.