Chapter 3: The Depths of Despair

In the dimly lit basement of his house, Alex sat bound to a chair, the cold, unforgiving metal of the chains biting into his wrists. The air was musty, thick with the scent of neglect. This basement, a place he had avoided at all costs, had now become his prison.

His parents stood before him, their faces twisted into masks of anger and disappointment. "You've always been a burden, Alex," his mother's voice was harsh, echoing off the bare walls, his mother raised her right hand and struck him ion the face. "We gave you everything, and yet you've brought us nothing but shame."

His father's eyes were cold and distant. "You need to learn discipline," he said. "You need to understand the consequences of your actions."

Alex's heart pounded in his chest, tasting blood in his mouth and fear mingling with a sense of injustice. He had done nothing to deserve this treatment, nothing to warrant such disdain.

This time Alex's father grabbed one of his fingers and bent it in a way that it should not, Alex screamed in pain as the room was filled with a loud snap.

"We're going to leave you here to think about what you've done," his mother continued, her tone unyielding. "Maybe a night alone in the dark will teach you some respect."

With those final words, they turned and ascended the stairs, leaving Alex in the suffocating darkness of the basement. The sound of the door locking echoed in the silence, a definitive click that sealed his fate.

Alone, with one of his fingers broken and in pain Alex struggled against his restraints, but it was futile. The chains held firm, unyielding. He realized that physical strength alone wouldn't free him. He needed to be smart, to think his way out of this.

As the hours passed, he became numb to the pain, Alex's mind raced with possibilities. Each plan was more desperate than the last, but he refused to give in to despair. He thought about the dream he had, the magical world where he had felt powerful and in control. He clung to that feeling, using it as a beacon in the darkness.

He remembered the lessons from the dream, the martial arts techniques, and the sense of inner strength they had given him. He focused on that strength now, using it to remain calm, to keep his mind clear.

Alex also thought about his parents' words, their cruel intention to leave him here. He realized that this was more than just punishment; it was a test of his will, his ability to endure. And he was determined to prove them wrong.

Time lost meaning in the darkness, but Alex's resolve only grew stronger. He worked at the chains, searching for any weakness, any flaw he could exploit. And as he worked, he planned what he would do once he was free. He knew he couldn't stay in this house, in this life, any longer. He needed to escape, to find a new path.

The night stretched on, an endless cycle of hope and frustration. But through it all, Alex's spirit remained unbroken. He was no longer the scared, helpless boy his parents saw him as. He was something more, something stronger.

As the night wore on, the silence of the basement was broken by the sound of the door creaking open. Alex, who had been lost in his thoughts, tensed as he saw the silhouette of his father in the doorway. The faint smell of alcohol wafted in the air, creating a sense of unease.

His father stood there for a moment, swaying slightly, his eyes not quite focusing. There was a heaviness to his presence, a sense of pent-up anger and disappointment. "You know," he began, his voice slurred, "I always thought you'd be different. Be better."

Alex remained silent, watching his father warily. The air between them was thick with unspoken words and years of strained relationship.

His father continued, each word laced with bitterness. "But you're just a disappointment. A burden." He shook his head, a mocking laugh escaping his lips. "You're not my son. My son would have been... more."

The words cut deeper than any physical blow. Alex felt a coldness settle in his chest, a realization that the approval and affection he had craved from his father would never come. Yet, amid the hurt, there was a growing sense of clarity. This was not about his failures; this was about his father's own unfulfilled expectations and frustrations.

"You never understood me," Alex finally spoke, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. "You never tried."

His fathers face contorted and he marched over, as he stood over his son anger built up further seeing him speak back was something he would not tolerate, he reached down and grabbed another finger, alex's eyes widened not wanting to feel that pain again and looked at his father with pleading eyes.

His father did not care and suddenly "SNAP" as soon as he had done it alex screamed in pain once again, the pain from the second break reigniting the first one and intensifying the pain, Alex couldnt stop the tears falling as his father moved onto the next finger and said with a low growl "this is what happens when you talk back and are a failure of a son".

Alex's mind was in turmoil as each finger that his father had broken the further his resentment and hate for this family was, as he finished with the fith finger his mother walked in with a scowl on her face but there was something hidden under that scowl that only slightly rose to the surface on that Alex had only just been barely able to see, a smile a smile of satisfaction.

His mother walked in and up to his father and gave him a long kiss, she retracted and said "we should really do something about his screaming the neighbors might hear", his father smiled and went to a box near the corner of the room and grabbed duct tape, his father walked back with an evil grin as his mother giggled.

Once the tape was over his mouth his parents did not stop the torture there as if they were posessed that tortured him cruelly, pulling out fingernails breaking bones and many other torterous methods that no 17 year old should be subjected to.

All alex could do was imagine himself back with the masterious yet familier man practicing techniques, but it was very short lived as every time he was hurt he was pulled back to reality and grim situation that he was currently living.

After hours of torment they had finally left alex's broken, blodied and bruised body in the basement, although alex many hours before had been confident and full of life on the inside currently this was not the case, he hated the world for how he has been treated, all he could think was that this was unfair.

The basement's stagnant air was suddenly disrupted by the sharp sound of the door opening once more. This time, it was Alex's mother who stepped into the dimly lit space. Her expression was hard, unreadable, but her eyes held a glint of something that made Alex's heart sink.

Without a word, she approached Alex. Her hand moved swiftly, striking him across the face then again and again and agian she relentlessly hit him taking enjoyment out of her sons misery. The force of the blows was startling, sending a wave of pain across his cheek and jarring his senses.

The world around Alex began to spin, his vision blurring as he struggled to maintain consciousness. His mother's figure became a distorted shadow, her voice a distant echo. "You've always been weak," she said, her words cutting through the haze of pain.

Alex tried to respond, to defend himself, but his words were lost in a growing blackness that crept into the edges of his vision. His mother's figure faded into the darkness, and Alex felt himself slipping away, his consciousness fading into a void.

In this void, time and space lost all meaning. Alex drifted in an endless expanse of darkness, a solitary figure lost in an abyss. It felt like years passed in this timeless place, years of isolation and introspection.

But then, something changed. A distant light appeared, faint at first but gradually growing brighter. It beckoned to Alex, a beacon of hope in the unending darkness. He felt himself being drawn towards it, a sense of anticipation building within him.

As the light enveloped him, the darkness receded, and Alex found himself lying in a field of lush, green grass. The sun shone brightly overhead, casting a warm glow on his skin. He sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings with a sense of wonder.

The field stretched out around him, a sea of green under a clear blue sky. Birds sang in the distance, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers. It was a stark contrast to the darkness of the basement, a world apart from the pain and suffering he had known.

Alex stood up, feeling a sense of lightness he hadn't experienced in a long time. He was free, at least in this moment, in this place. The field seemed to stretch on forever, a symbol of the endless possibilities that lay before him.

In this surreal and peaceful setting, Alex felt a profound sense of clarity. He realized that his struggles, while painful, had shaped him into who he was.