His Broken Hope.

1 - Zyran. ♡

Chapter 1 : "What Did I Do Wrong?"

The shadows have surrounded me, hiding me from the lights, from the day and from the satisfaction of fresh air. I'm stuck. Stuck under their feet, under their mercy. I do not serve them, but I do kneel before them. Do they fear me? Fear my capabilities? Is that why I am chained to the ground? Do they know that I am equally as scared? That I am petrified?

They have me seated in the middle of a dark room, my arms and legs tied to a metallic chair, my shirt torn and bloodied from the beating they've been giving me. Based on the ache I have on my cheek, eye and abdomen, I've been bruised black.

I shouldn't be afraid; I should be feared instead. The Romaiv family knows no fear, yet my blood is fueled with it at this very moment. If fear was a person, I'd be it.

They have me.

They have me.

They can have me killed.

I've been hit, tortured and made a fool out of. I was feared, now I cower down like a pathetic little insect searching for solitude while the rain storms down.

I am pained, agonized, hurt.

Have they no mercy upon me?

They scream, they yell, and they shout, just for me to answer their questions, but I have no word, no voice, no feeling other than the piercing jolt of ache through my mind, and soul.

They watch me cry in agony; they watch me like the sadistic people they are.

I am lost, I need life.

Yet that doesn't stop the yelling.

"Speak! Why the hell is he silent?!" The guy yells, looking at me with irritation, his scowl tearing through my soul. He has black and grey hair— surprisingly neat given the fact he was hitting me left and right—, his eyes are deep green, his age clear on his wrinkled face. The black suit carves out his broad shoulders, he probably can crush my bones with his pinkie— and— wait, is that a knife in his palm? "Listen here, kid. You have to answer my questions. You'll stay here until you tell me what your father has been dealing, and with whom. He's had his hands in funny businesses, so open your mouth before I stick my gun's muzzle in there and show you how to speak by gagging on your own blood."

"You won't get any information out of him that way—" A woman speaks, causing the guy to scowl more— if possible. It's either she's good with a poker face, or she's used to this by now.

"Mia Amore, please do not intervene."

"Poor boy might not know what you're talking about, you're scaring him." Yes, please listen to this very pretty lady. She's a beautiful, young woman, long, wavy locks of black hair, light grey eyes, freckles rained on her cheeks, her complexion screams of porcelain doll, minus the creepy demeanor. "He might not know anything about his father, we did find him on his way to college."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't know anything; he might be pretending to have a normal life."

"Look at him, Ciros, he looks petrified." I was also that when they jumped me earlier today, I don't know if my expressions failed to express fear— but okay.

"Ilena he might know—"

"I don't." Who was tha— oh that was me. Who gave my voice the permission to be let out? "I don't know anything, sir. Please, just let me go! You can't just keep me captive thinking I know things when I clearly don't!"

"You don't know anything about your father?"

"No!"

"Fine." He starts pacing around me, "Adonis Reese, does that jog your memory?"