Living Hell

Day 1

They thought he was crazy,  they thought he was mad,  they thought there was nothing left in him,  they thought, he was officially  useless
A sad tale,  tears,  horror, series of unforeseen events! Of a boy,  once like you,  this could happen to anyone,  in just one day,  things could turn out so wrong,  so useless,  so horrible, a life we thought was never imaginable,  it could never happen, all this is friction! That was what we thought,  until the events encountered looked miserable than what we ever  taught,  you can tell it's a dark tale,  sadly it had to be told.............

  The rain dripped on the glass,  the window of the car,  he was chained and saw it trickle down like his life was ending, "let me go" he begged but Beaver as they called was with no pity.  His dark mustache hairy in between his long nose,  as hairy as a wolf, one with a wild clan,  he had no pity in his eyes, it was cold,  dark and filled with death. He drove like everything was OK,  he had no one in captive,  he turned his cap forward letting his dark and grey hair swing about with the wind, plumpy was what he was, a little  bit fat but still,  he had no heart,  a stone was replaced there like his childhood, he remembered his days,  the boy deserved this!  Life's motto was pain and misery. This was all he taught about while driving his small blue Camry car in the heavy rain.  Despite the weather warnings.

He wept,  he cried he mumbled,  he screamed, pain,  anxiety,  sorrow, misery in his eyes,  the boy was too young, sad,  dressed in white,  despite his looks,  life's frustration pressured his good looks. He was no ordinary  child!

They stopped. He felt relieved but Beaver had plans,  in front of them was a mansion, big,  scary,  it looked empty as it was surrounded by no homes,  no roads,  no soul around windows were no where to be found it was just one,  one small window,  the place was shaded black,  only one door, meaning, one exit!

Two men stood by the entrance, they bowed at Beaver's entrance,  he was a man of few words but a mind of many!  He waved an arm, not the one he used to drag the boy down the rain,  he was strong.
Inside was definitely more SCARY than the outside, two men sat at a desk, the only desk there as few women and men (mostly crying) moved about the place,  they were scarce even though the place was really large and spacious.

Beaver stepped towards the desk,  security cameras around watching every single move he made
"entry card" he said
"whose the kid?" the man asked
"Phil, I dunno much about him but he needs this place" Beaver explained filing files and documents 
"can he speak?"
"Yes,  but he's psycho, special attention will be needed with your roughest.... "
"Jess. Will be instructed" the other guy spoke at last and picked a telephone, whispered some words and dropped it back. Hills were heard walking forward,  closer and closer with a clenching sound when it hit the ground. "the kid?" a tall figure approached them,  hippy and thin,  stern structure and ugly!  With a mole by her mouth.  With two towels and white clothes. She also had blood in her eyes she had a very rough childhood,  Known as a strong disciplinarian, no heart, Beaver's  type.
The boy was held by the collar and raised up,  for someone of about fifteen, guessing....he told no one his age. He was forced to hold the towels and clothes and was dragged away,  into the dark, Beaver was pleased, for the first time he smiled at the boy but not a good one,  a wicked,  devilish grin he showed the kid as he walked out the door, he winked with pleasure and laughed. That was all he planned from the day they met.

***********
Phil struggled to let Collins out of the room with Beaver on the ground,  he struggled  to open the doors but Beaver already got up,  picked the gun,  used the edge to smack him down opened the door and shot Collins down,  dead. He was over thrown by Phil as he grabbed the gun and shot his forehead. Phil stood there looking at the two bodies and just wept.  He folded his arms around his legend bent his head. That was when Beaver got up and called the cops. Technically a horror story with fighting parts.

***********
They walked down three hallways,  it was silent and their feet echoed as it touched the ground. Suddenly,  there was noise in a room and she opened the door to see children quiet at their beds,  the noise was no more "stand up all of you....." she said.

The room was spacious with bunk beds placed at each side with a straight wide gap in the middle enough to fill one hundred people and more. The beds were also spaced from each other,  five candles at each end of the room to give it lighting but it was also dangerous to keep it there,  there was only one curtain yet no window it looked like an eternal place of death and darkness. Each person in white, the bed sheets white.
" .........Twenty five jumps" she said and,  well that's a horror tale.......

Cuddling up in his bed life had no meaning now,  it didn't even think he was meaningful, everything turned bad, despite its beginning, life we taught was worse than it could happen because kids call us weird,  bully us,  education, the ones that are not regarded useful in life,  it was had to believe it was the same child that was given birth to with love,  care and affection in the eyes of those who bore him. Fifteen years,  that kid was deprived of life freedom, he saw life as a meaningless black hole he was being sucked into despite the fact that he hoped to live,  to live like others,  receive care and affection from those around, his head was spinning round, as he took a look at his past experiences, no care,  no love,  cold blooded, dreaded! This was it, he was tired, why won't life treat him like a normal kid? Was he the only one bearing this pain? were others suffering from the same allergic reaction? Was it born that he was worthless and nothing more, was he?  We're they? Things were falling apart,  life was falling apart!

Cuddling up in his bed was the only thing he could do now,  his soul relied on it,  he needed to think this through. Was he alone?  How many other children are crying and begging for freedom, how many cannot sleep thinking of the things life may do to them in their sleep? How many of them are being engulfed in pain?

That night, he found no comfort, rolling from edge to edge dreaming about, the mysterious.......

He yelled falling down a black hole until it closed up and he fell flat on the ground, thinking the pain was over,  he adjusted to feel his neck but that was a whole lot other story, he saw Beaver with a knife and Collins in his hands, he shifted the knife slowly and let the head roll over to him, that was it, it was time to take full power,  he picked up a gun "Phil, no!" he heard his parent's voice,  he didn't know them but he had heard that name before, he turned to see nobody, and with a second,  a bullet was piercing through his body,  he fell down, half unconscious, blurry sight "Jana and Eric," he felt his mouth move "Jana and Eric" he mumbled in his sleep, to wake up he found himself surrounded by many children, he adjusted still murmuring "Jana and Eric" the crowd dispersed remaining only two people ".....Jana and Eric?" he heard the boy say "yes, I think those are the names of my parents...who are you two?" he spoke at last "Greg and Josh, at least that's what we know about ourselves" the other answered "you know your parents?" Josh asked "no, I only know their names" he sighed in disappointment "We can help you"
"really?"
"welcome aboard mate"