VENGEANCE.

sixteen

flashback

"Come on, Natty!" a voice barked.

"Yes sir," I obeyed.

"Get your ass up and win this damn fight or I'll bring you back to life and give you worse punishments," he threatened.

"I'm tryi-trying!" I yelled, out of breath.

With a groan, I forced myself to lunge at my opponent, ignoring the ache in my muscles.

This was a fight to the death. For survival. There is no time for hesitation because one mistake can cause you your entire life.

And if I lose, then I die.

But if I win? I still get punished. Funny right?

It's a relentless cycle. Kill or be killed.

I'm immune to pain, I've learned to accept it to the point where I started craving pain at one point.

Whipped? Nothing. Punched? Nothing.

Nothing fazes me when I'm in this place. I'm used to it. I have to get used to it.

"You almost died out there," he said calmly.

I hung my head down low.

"You know what that means, right?"

I nodded and immediately walked to my room, a small dimly lit cell in the basement.

"How many whips?" he asked.

"Fifty," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"How many?!" he demanded harshly.

"Hundred."

"Two hundred," he sneered before whipping me.

I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth against each whip tearing at my skin. Each lash was a reminder of what this place is.

"Clearly my training is not enough," he scoffed, whipping me for the last time before leaving.

That's two hundred and one, you idiot.

"Save me, please," I whispered, laying on the cold, hard ground.

end of flashback

With my heart pounding against my chest, I suddenly jolted out of my nightmare, gasping for breath with beads of sweat trailing down my face.

I sat there, trying to keep my frantic breathing in check.

"You good?" Athena mumbled, groggily, seemingly awakened from her slumber.

"Yeah," I muttered.

"Another nightmare?" she asked.

I nodded, "Sorry for waking you up."

"It's okay," she reassured. "There's a gym downstairs if you need to let out some steam," she mumbled.

"Thanks," I whispered gratefully before quietly slipping out of the room.

Entering the gym, I flickered on the lights to be met with such a sight of various gym equipments scattered around.

I love the gym.

Without hesitation, I approached the punching bag after wrapping my arms. Each strike represents each emotion I was feeling.

Anger. Sadness. Betrayal.

And also my brothers in mind.

The sound of me hitting the punching bag echoed across the room.