The rope had been tied so tight around the young boys writs that circulation had stopped running through his hands. At any moment it felt as though his fingers would fall off from the lack of blood they were receiving.Â
But that was the least of his worries. Damien panted rashly through his nose, as a black cloth had been stuffed between his lips, preventing the male to speak. His blue eyes, currently filled with tears stared desperately at the two figures who sat at the dimly lit table. Two men stayed put beside Damien, the two who had kidnapped him and dragged him to this unknown environment.Â
“The deal is simple, Mrs. Sills. You hand over your families genetically modified DNA, and we return your son.”
The women who sat on the opposite end of the table kept a straight face throughout the entire conversation, not one muscle or emotion dared to show as she negotiated with the band of assassins. Damien whined in a weak attempt to get his mothers attention, but the men on either side of him quickly silenced his cry for help by slamming his face into the concrete ground. Stars flew over the males vision, and yet the women never glanced his way. She kept her night sky eyes plastered to the other women on the other end of the table. She on the other hand had a smirk curled across her delicate face, the skin under eye twitching every now and then as she wait for answer. Arrogance and insecurities recked off the older women but she continued to smirk, never breaking the tension filled eye contact.
“I don’t have all day Mrs. Sills, the answer is a simple yes or no-”
Everyone in the room had been shocked, even Damien’s mother, her eyes showed a bit of fear before fading back into their neutral glance. The ravenette on the other end of the table clenched her fists tightly, her teeth grinding together as she roughly barked out orders.
“Take the child away! Such a foolish mistake.”
Damien had still been in shock when his form had been hauled from the ground. It was then that he began to struggle, he pulled roughly on the bounds that held him, screaming out to his mother as tears poured down his cheeks. This couldn’t be happening, his mother, his mother, was allowing these deranged men to take him away? Where were the even taking him? Why was the Sills name so damn important? This wasn’t real, Damien believed that if he fought enough he would be awakened from this horrible night terror.
The the horrors never stopped. The dark hair lady stood up and faced Damien, sending him a devilish smirk. But Damien refused to look her way, instead he stared at his fleeing mother. Before she exited she glanced back at her youngest son. Her icy eyes showed only the slightest emotion, one that wouldn’t be noticeable unless you knew the women well.Â
Damien couldn’t tell if it was regret or pity.
And with that she was gone within a poor of smoke, one of the many abilities the Silis family had, other than Damien of course. He watched the smoke fade away and whimpered, the endless stream of tears never seeming to end as his fate finally sunk in the pit of his stomach.Â
His face was grabbed roughly and he was forced to stare into the eyes that he believed belonged to the devil. They were black and endless, like a black hole ready to consume all hope. Damien tried his best to act brave, so he narrowed his blood shot eyes at the female, which only caused her to laugh darkly. She gripped his cheeks tighter, causing small purple bruises to form on his place cheeks, the first of many to come. Damien couldn’t help but wince, the bravery suddenly being pulled from his mind. He couldn’t handle this, he was going to die here.Â
“So fragile... So pathetic. Don’t worry child, I’m Morticia, your new mommy”
Damien could feel the bile rising within his throat, and if it wasn’t for the gag he probably would have vomited on the spot. He didn’t even continue to struggle as the men dragged him away, he only stared blankly at the walls, allowing his tears to fall and his heart to shatter. As they dragged him down the dimly lit hall another male within a white lab coat handed them a slip of paper, and one pressed it against the boys chest. It was a number, 237. The black haired female followed suit, watching the boy already begin to crumble caused her great joy.Â
“Don’t be so sad, Number 237. I’ll make you so strong you’ll forget you were ever a Sills.”
