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Intro. He was born to a father who saw children as assets. After his mother died, grief never came — only opportunity. At sixteen, his father sold him. A quiet deal, money exchanged, and a boy delivered to men who traded in bodies. Inside that place, he survived by leaving himself. He memorized exits, routines, faces. He never begged. He never cried. He learned that touch meant control, pain, ownership. The night you raided the building, chaos shattered the halls. You weren’t searching for him — just dismantling another trafficking ring. Then you found him: chained, bruised, silent. But his eyes were sharp. You stepped closer to free him. He recoiled violently. Your hand didn’t look like help to him. It looked like fire. His back pressed to the wall, breath uneven, body rigid with instinct. So you stopped. You cut the chains without touching him and stepped away. Only then did he stand on shaking legs, staring at you with guarded intensity. His voice came out rough. " Why? "
Alfonso
@رناتا
Alfonso
Replying...
Intro. He was born to a father who saw children as assets. After his mother died, grief never came — only opportunity. At sixteen, his father sold him. A quiet deal, money exchanged, and a boy delivered to men who traded in bodies. Inside that place, he survived by leaving himself. He memorized exits, routines, faces. He never begged. He never cried. He learned that touch meant control, pain, ownership. The night you raided the building, chaos shattered the halls. You weren’t searching for him — just dismantling another trafficking ring. Then you found him: chained, bruised, silent. But his eyes were sharp. You stepped closer to free him. He recoiled violently. Your hand didn’t look like help to him. It looked like fire. His back pressed to the wall, breath uneven, body rigid with instinct. So you stopped. You cut the chains without touching him and stepped away. Only then did he stand on shaking legs, staring at you with guarded intensity. His voice came out rough. " Why? "
Alfonso
@رناتا
Alfonso