Alessio walked toward the recreational area which was a large open room with mismatched tables, chairs, and game equipment scattered around. Elian trailed behind him, his face set in disinterest.
He didn't want to be here neither did he want to follow Alessio around like some kind of pet. But what choice did he have?
The room was busy when they entered. About twenty inmates were scattered around; some playing cards, some engaged in hushed conversations, some just sitting alone staring at nothing.
Alessio stopped just inside the doorway and he uttered one word- just one;
"Out."
His voice wasn't loud. Just calm yet maddeningly commanding. And the effect was immediate and dramatic. It was as if his presence alone was commanding enough.
Chairs scraped violently against concrete. Playing cards scattered across tables, fluttering to the floor. Men scrambled to their feet like the room had caught fire.
They rushed toward the exits, shoving past each other, nearly trampling one another in their desperation to leave. Some didn't even look back and some cast fearful glances at Alessio as they fled.
Within thirty seconds, the room had nearly emptied.
Nearly.
Ten men remained, huddled together in the far corner. They pressed against the wall like cornered animals, their faces drained of color. Their bodies were so tightly packed together it looked like they were trying to merge into the concrete behind them.
Alessio's gaze swept over them slowly. Assessing and measuring.
Then he gave a single nod.
He walked further into the room with measured steps. His shoes clicking against the floor was the only sound in the now-silent space. He pulled out a chair from one of the abandoned card tables and sat down slowly, crossing one leg over the other. He settled in like a king taking his throne, his posture relaxed, his expression calm.
Elian, not still interested in whatever was happening moved to stand behind him, robotically.
The ten men shifted nervously. Their eyes darted between each other and Alessio. Silently, they began to move toward him.
As they tried to form a line, chaos erupted. One man shoved another to get to the front position. Someone else pushed back. A third man tried to squeeze between two others.
Their movements were frantic, desperate, like being first in line might save them from something terrible.
Alessio cleared his throat.
It was a quiet sound. Barely more than a whisper of air yet every man froze mid-movement.
The shoving stopped instantly. Bodies went rigid. The desperate scrambling ceased as if someone had pressed pause on a video.
In complete silence, they arranged themselves into a perfectly straight line. Their heads were bowed and their shoulders hunched forward. Every single one of them trembled visibly- hands shaking, knees barely holding them upright.
At this point, Elian became interested. His brows furrowed as he watched with growing confusion;
"What the hell is happening here?" He thought with curiosity.
Then Alessio's face changed. The casual, almost pleasant expression melted away like wax under heat. What replaced it was cold.
His jaw got set into a rigid line. His eyes went flat and emotionless, like looking into a shark's gaze.
He stared at the line of men... Five seconds passed. Ten. Twenty.
Nobody moved. It was as if nobody was even breathing.
The tension in the room was suffocating.
Finally, Alessio spoke, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade: "Don't waste my time."
The first man in line stepped forward. He was older, mid-forties with deep lines carved around his eyes and mouth. His prison uniform hung loose on his thin frame.
His legs shook so badly Elian thought he might collapse.
Alessio stretched out his hand slightly, palm facing up. The gesture was almost gentle. An offering. A question asked without words.
The man stared at Alessio's outstretched hand. His face twisted with something that looked like grief. Like he had been offered salvation and couldn't accept it.
Slowly, he shook his head. Pure regret saturated every line of his expression.
Alessio's hand dropped back to his lap. He nodded once, his face remaining impassive.
"Let's have it then." He muttered.
The man closed his eyes, took a deep, shuddering breath then he opened his eyes and slapped himself across the face.
Hard.
The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot. His head snapped violently to the side. His cheek turned bright red instantly, the outline of his own fingers visible on his skin.
Elian jerked backward slightly, his eyes widening.
Alessio didn't blink. He just watched with that same cold, empty expression.
The man didn't stop. His other hand came up and he slapped his opposite cheek with equal force. His head whipped to the other side. Spit flew from his mouth.
Then he made a fist.
He punched himself in the jaw.
The impact was brutal. His head rocked back. A strangled scream tore from his throat- raw pain and desperate anguish mixed together.
But he didn't stop.
He punched himself again. And again. His face. His ribs. His stomach. Each blow landed with sickening force, his own knuckles splitting open from the impacts.
Blood appeared. First from his nose, starting as a thin trickle that quickly became a stream. Then his lip split open, red spreading across his teeth.
Elian's stomach churned. His hands clenched into fists at his sides so tight his nails dug into his palms.
The man dropped to the concrete floor and started rolling around, thrashing like he was being attacked by invisible assailants. His body contorted. His limbs flailed.
Alessio made a small sound- just a quiet hiss, barely audible.
Displeasure!
And the man stopped rolling immediately. His eyes flew open, pupils dilated with terror.
"I'm sorry!" The words burst from him in a desperate rush. He scrambled to his knees, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. "Please, I'm so sorry, forgive me, please, please..."
He started slamming his forehead against the concrete floor.
Bang.
The sound echoed. Bang, again and again.
Blood appeared on his forehead after the third impact. The skin split open in a jagged line.
Bang
The wound widened. Blood ran down his face, dripping onto the floor.
Bang.
"Please punish me," the man sobbed between impacts. Tears and blood mixed on his face. "I deserve it, please, I need...I'm sorry..."
The banging continued and the blood pooled on the floor.
Elian's vision blurred. His breathing became shallow and rapid. The room suddenly felt too hot, too small and the memory he didn't always wish to remember, surfaced sharply.
Blood on the floor. Blood everywhere...