#londonsmasterassassin

Taking a seat across from Evie, he leaned back a little and looked to the side a little. “I remember the days when the house use to smell so sweet, like flowers but also as though someone was baking something sweet, you could taste it on your tongue every time you opened up you mouth.” A time he wish he could go back to, being a child, not having to worry. Not having to be an ASSASSIN.

Head hanging low he could barely keep himself awake, the rationed food and water was keeping him alive as his body was worn out already, cuts, bruises and injuries of all kind freckled across his back, chest, everywhere where they could possibly hurt the Assassin for information. How he’d been so blind and walked into their little trap was beyond him by this point, how long has he been here..? days, weeks, months?

Time didn’t work fluently here, it was slow and painful like his torture, punishment. Wrists shackled to the wall from the chains that attached to it, placed on his knees and body forward enough that it began to hurt. Hearing the click of that door made Jacob become rigid and close his eyes, the last “session” as they called them, left him trembling in pain still. Not even daring to look up as he knew he would see something he didn’t wish to see.