Until He's Gone

Prologue

" The bravest thing I did was continuing my life when all I wanted to do was die "
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Author's Note: Welcome to my first book!
Until He's Gone is now edited and updated to a better new version (which has led to the disappearance of all in-line comments, not that I'm complaining or anything :p).

I'm so happy I finally completed this book and so grateful for your support and love. I hope you enjoy reading as well as interacting with the story. Happy reading!
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The darkness of the prisons of Normandy was more profound than any darkness the boy had ever known. Had it not been for the dim glimpse of light coming from the barred gate of his cell, he wouldn't have even seen the shape of his hands.

  He still couldn't believe how he'd spent five treacherous years in jail. He couldn't yet accept the fact that he hadn't seen the sunlight or the sky for that long. He didn't even think he would see them again, and even if he ever did, darkness would remain within.

He was walking slowly across his cell, when he heard faint voices in the air and froze in his tracks. It was the mumbling of two jailers as they approached his cell. Over the years, the boy had gotten used to a lot of insults and oppression. One of the jailers unlocked the barred door.

"You're leaving tomorrow to the nearby court. Monsieur Elliot wants to get it done with you," the officer told him in a flat and emotionless voice.

  He then turned away to lock the door and leave, but the boy staggered forward, shouting "Tell him that I'm not going anywhere. I've already explained the truth a thousand times. I'm not really ready to tire my vocal cords again for shitty deaf people who don't want to listen." His wrists hurt as they rubbed against the manacles.

"Funny," said the jailer in a voice as blank as his face was. Then, the two of them locked the boy's cell door and turned around, laughing mockingly.

The boy felt a rush of anger flow through his nerves. He put his hands to the bars. "Let a plague fall on you! You have ruined my life. I swear I wasn't the same person before," he broke off and cried like he had always done during the past five years of suffering.

The Nazi soldiers had always treated him like some sort of criminal, and he had always spent the rest of the day screaming and shouting in his dark cell. He didn't even know if he was still a normal person. He thought he needed a psychologist very soon.

He looked down at his torn wrists which were bleeding beneath the manacles. They have been bleeding every single day, he thought. How come was he still alive? Deep down, he wished he could get rid of his life. He blinked away the burning tears and banged his head against the cell's rocky wall. The whole world swirled before him as he slid slowly to the ground.

"Stop hurting yourself, boy," yelled a familiar authoritative voice in the distance.

The boy blinked his eyes open and saw only darkness. He shivered. The dark figure approached his barred door and he could see, in the faint light, Monsieur Elliot's emotionless face. Terror gripped him, and he stood to his feet at once.

"It's not like you haven't hurt me every single day," the boy managed to say.

Monsieur Elliot smiled as he stood on the other side of the bars. "So, you've refused to go to court and face the judges?" he asked, his voice threatening.

The boy gulped, "That's right. I won't face anyone but you." His voice sounded firm and confident. He felt proud of himself. He walked towards the bars of his cell until he was a few inches away from the high officer; it was as near as his chain would let him get. He despised the look of amusement on the officer's face.