Chapter fifty-three

Inside the poorly lit cold room lay a young boy on a big, soft, and luxurious bed, whimpering and cowering in trepidation. For someone who’d voluntarily come to a place, the treatment he received so far differed from that of a prisoner.

Dressed in a sweatshirt that had ridden up to expose the pale skin of his abdomen and low-hanging ripped jeans, he wished the temperature of the room could be increased a bit to ward off the cold settling on his exposed skin.

The young boy had smooth, almost translucent skin that reflected the dull glow of the red bulb located in the center of the room’s ceiling.

His small oval shaped eyes were blindfolded tightly with a black piece of fabric that felt rough against the softness of his cheeks. One could tell he was terrified from the way he clenched and unclenched his fists which it was tightly strapped to the bed.

His feet and hands were splayed apart, and tied to the bed posts.

With a small "click", the door opened and his soul almost left his body.