In a world where the rich and poor are separated, King Elon rules with an iron fist. Ever since the death of Queen Seraphina, he has realized there has always been something missing.
Aurora Banks has lived her entire life with less than a dollar in...
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You can read all of Forgetting Arlo and Liberty. You can also read ahead of my new stories Destined, Shattered Souls, and The King's Lost Queen plus many more stories. You will always be supporting me. To find out more, please click on this link: patreon.com/littletroublemaker_
"Well, nobody's perfect." - Some Like It Hot, 1959
Word count: 2214
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ELON stayed close to me, wanting to protect me as we began to descend to the prison. Coldness, mold, and darkness greeted us, creating a foreboding atmosphere. I could hear the cries of prisoners as they pleaded to be freed. I had a small ounce of sympathy for them—there was nothing worse than being locked up in a cold cell for the rest of your life. It would definitely drive you mad.
We walked past several corridor entrances, heading towards a metal door at the end of the hall. Elon nodded at the two guards stationed outside of it. They unlocked it, each using different keys for different locks.
The first thing I saw was a dirty metal table. Sitting behind the table, was a man wearing black clothing. He was chained to the floor, his hands tied behind his back. Gashes were covered over his ghostly face. Blood dripped down onto the concrete tiled floor, coming from him.
He had been beaten since I last saw him. Probably interrogated.
It wasn't the first time I had seen someone beaten to a pulp and yet, I felt sick to my stomach.
Cale was already inside the room with Hugo. Both of them were wearing stoic expressions on their faces, unbothered by the scene. My eyes glanced down at the hands and noticed the grazes on their knuckles.
I fisted my fingers together and swallowed the bile that threatened to rise.
My conversation with Elon earlier still lingered in my mind. I was furious at him for the things he said. I could see where he was coming from, but it pissed me off that he could be so cold about this. Could he not have some sympathy for a man who had suffered his whole life?
"What is your name?" Elon's sharp voice cut through the silence. I stared at the man softly.
His face was long and thin, with heavy purple bags under his eyes. I used to look like that. It pained me to see him look the way I used to.
