Heartless Ending Book 3 of the Heartless Series

Chapter 1 - Chains

Chapter 1 – Chains

Unknown POV

A life in chains is no life at all. I suppose the chains are my own fault, but a prison cell still looks the same with or without them. I was no longer a young and naïve girl, I no longer hoped to see my family or have any friends. I was just a body, a shell of a person that graced these halls as if I didn't exist. No one stopped me to ask how I am or ask if I were okay. I even forgot what my own voice sounded like as I have been mute for many years, I could talk if I wanted too but I never had the need.

I barely ate so looked gaunt, I didn't recognise myself when I looked in the mirror. My once beautiful long silky brown hair, now looked like straw, an unwashed tangle matted to my head. My brown eyes that I inherited from my father once golden now, a dull lifeless brown. My lips were cracked and dehydrated, my skin pale and almost translucent from not seeing the sun in years. I barely resembled my parents anymore, I guess I grew up, but I know deep down that again it's my own fault.

I was being trained in gymnastics when I first arrived here which I liked and got really good at it, then they moved onto acro and aerial acrobatics which were just as fun. The days were long and gruelling, but I loved every moment of it. I asked if I could do ballet, I knew I'd be good at it like my older sister, but the strike I received across my right cheek had my head spinning and my body hitting the floor hard. I never asked for anything again. I just did what I was told.

My next set of skills to learn were disciplined and structured, from basic martial arts to mixed and street fighting. These quickly progressed before I had the chance to master the previous one. Weapons were introduced and I received so many beatings from fists, powerful kicks and wooden staffs. I was black and blue and in a lot of pain, but they never let up. I was to fight through the pain to become a better fighting machine, but I were too weak to try. My punishment was to kneel for hours at a time with no food or water until 6pm every day for a week. I quickly withered to nothing.

After the week was done, I had to be taken to a medical centre to be force fed through a tube to build the weight back up, because every time I tried to eat by body rejected it and I vomited it back up. I was told the boss wasn't happy with my progress and he would personally be coming to see me when I was out of hospital. I didn't know what to think of this. Could t get any worse?

5 days later I was released but I'd only put on 25% of what I lost, so I wasn't exactly well but well enough for them to restart my fight training. It took me a while to get back into things, but I wasn't allowed to be punished by denying me meals. Instead they made me hang by my arms from the ceiling. In my mind this was a losing battle because my arms never recovered in time to get any better at fighting, and the staff was always too heavy for me to lift.

The boss was coming today to see my progress, I was scared of what twisted punishment he would think of, when he saw me fail today's training regime. A man in a white suit kept to the shadows watching me, I couldn't see his face, but I could tell he was tall, broad and exhumed power. "Enough." He shouted after I had been thrown to the floor for the fourth time in a row. "She is useless. Have you even been teaching her properly?" He shouted at my trainer. "Yes sir but this is as good as it gets. She is weak." Their words hurt, but it wasn't like I hadn't heard them before. "What is her punishment for failing?" My trainer looked down at me with a proud smirk on his face. "She hangs from the ceiling at night by her arms." The man in white stalked quickly forward and punched my trainer in the face, following him to the floor continuing his assault. Blood splattered up the arms of his suit and across his chest staining it where they landed, I was in shock but couldn't peel my eyes away from the massacre that was happening in front of me. My trainers body was a beaten crumpled mass of flesh in front of me, but the man wasn't finished. He stood wiping his hands on his handkerchief before pulling out a gun and firing a single shot into what I think was the man's brain.