Mafias fallen Angel

*Bonus*: FLASHBACKS (Jasons Tale)

TRIGGER WARNING: Signs of verbal and physical abuse, mental issues. (If you don't like any of that then skip this chapter)

*Jason POV*

I was walking home from school at 6 years old for supposed "practice" but I didn't know what I was practicing for. All of a sudden I was pulled into a black van before I could even scream I was already put to sleep.

I woke up tied to a chair in a cold room. This was a setup I just know it was. Men in black circled me whispering among themselves on what they should do with me and I knew I had to escape. I started to tear through the ropes but they left rug burn marks and small cuts on my wrists. I winced in pain but managed to escape before they could grab me. I ran out the door and rushed down the block as far as my tiny legs could go.

I was practically crying when I got home to see my parents both sitting at the dining table watching me. "It took you 3 hours and 58 minutes to escape a kidnapper Jason?!" My mother yelled at me before my dad stood up and hit me across the face. "You fucking disappointment how are you ever supposed to obtain the mafia in you if you could barely escape a kidnapping?!" I looked at my father with pleading tears in my eyes but he just scowled at me and my mother hit me across the back of my head.

"Why even have children if all they give is disappointing reactions?!" My mother asked looking at me on the floor. "Baby go get my belt I think he needs to be taught a lesson." I backed away as my father lashed his belt against my bare skin arms and legs. It was a painful experience of my life and I just couldn't escape. I managed to escape to my room and push my small weight against the door but that was only a small escape for the fact.

Later on my mother and father were asleep so I went to the bathroom to run cold water under where he lashed me with the belt. It stung like crazy but that only told me that I was weak and I couldn't show weakness. I tried my hardest not to cry but failed and collapsed on the floor breaking down slowly.

I can't show weakness or emotion.

I picked myself off the floor and went to my even more depressing room. We lived in a mansion but my room was fully painted black with velvet floors and a black sheeted blanket on my mattress. There was no color. Just pitch black. The only thing I ever really wore was a suit or a button up shirt with dress pants. No other clothes.

I don't know what came over me but my room sent me into a spiraling panic attack and I was on the ground slamming my face against the wall tears streaming down my face.

I didn't know how to feel or how to escape.

I just couldn't wait to get out of this hell.