A Final Fall novel Chapter 1

"Inmate 76, keep your nose clean out there. Don't even think about stepping out of line, or I'll make sure you regret it." Warden Barnes dug his fingers into my cheek, his eyes cold and menacing.

Not satisfied with just the threat, he grabbed my waist, twisting the flesh until it bruised, a cruel parting gift.

I dared not resist. I could only nod frantically, my head tucked low, like a frightened animal.

My meekness, my lack of defiance, seemed to please him. He threw back his head and laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Well, well. Seems like you've learned your lesson. Some people are just born to be stepped on."

I stared back blankly, a puppet with its strings cut, numb to his taunts.

He grunted in satisfaction and finally led me to the prison gates.

Waiting for me was Ashley, my wife, the woman who had sent me to this hellhole.

Beside her stood Claire, my own sister.

Ashley leaned against her car, waving languidly, as if summoning a dog. Perhaps that's all I was to her: a pathetic, desperate creature, begging for scraps of her affection.

But even a dog knows when it's had enough. After enduring so much pain, I had retreated into myself, my love for her replaced by a cold, hollow void.

I stood frozen, unable to move. The memory of her ending our pregnancy, her words echoing in my ears, "You don't deserve to have children, Leo. The thought of a child carrying your tainted blood makes me sick."

That day, I, who had always faced hardship with stoic resilience, had wept uncontrollably.

She just laughed. "This is what you get for hurting Ethan. Karma's a bitch."

Karma. The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I was on the verge of shattering.

Seeing my hesitation, Ashley frowned. "Seems like prison life treated you well. You haven't changed a bit."

Prison life treated me well? The scars carved into my skin with a rusty blade, the wounds that burned with salt and pepper, the nails ripped from my fingers, the electric shocks that left my body convulsing, the lashings that tore my flesh... The electric chair, the needle bed, the bone saw...

I shuddered, my body remembering the torture.

Her voice dripped with contempt. "We're not even home yet, and you're putting on a show? You're as pathetic as ever." Exasperated, she snapped, "Get in the car! Stop embarrassing yourself!"

Before prison, Ashley's taunts, her constant belittling, had filled me with rage and humiliation. Now, I felt nothing.

Prison had broken me, body and soul.

Warden Barnes had whipped me until I couldn't walk, my back a bloody mess. Not content with that, he had poured salt and pepper into the open wounds, relishing my screams. "That's what you get for being so shameless. Think you can get away with anything, huh?"

"You shouldn't even be here! They told me to take good care of you."

At first, I had fought back, clinging to my pride. "I'm not shameless! Ashley is my wife, Claire is my sister!" I had sneered, my lips cracked and bleeding from countless layers of duct tape. "Who the hell are you to judge me? You're nothing but Ethan and his friends' lapdog!"

My defiance had only earned me more torture. Electric shocks, needles, thumb screws, lashings - they were all used on me, leaving my body a canvas of pain. The warden had even branded me with the word "Pathetic" on my back, a permanent reminder of my supposed worthlessness.

In the dead of winter, when the temperature dropped below freezing, he had stripped me naked, forced me to crawl on the floor and bark like a dog, to repeat over and over, "I'm pathetic! I'm shameless! I'm trash!" My voice had become hoarse, a broken whisper.

But the worst was yet to come. He had brought in a group of leering men, their eyes hungry and cruel.

"Here's a little treat for you. He loves it rough. Don't hold back, boys!"

"No! Ashley, please! I'm telling the truth!" Desperation clawed at me. I knew that if she left me here, I would be punished, subjected to unimaginable horrors. The memory of the electric shocks, the needles, the whips, sent shivers down my spine.

But her next words drained all the fight out of me.

Without turning back, she said, "Don't disgust me, Leo. I gave you the marriage you wanted. Now stay here and reflect on what you did. Ethan needs me."

Everyone knew about Ashley's devotion to Ethan. I had been the only one foolish enough to believe I could win her heart.

She had rejected our marriage, our love, even called me disgusting.

Hope died that day. I stopped struggling, stopped calling out to her.

The warden, with a satisfied smirk, had gestured to the guards, and they had dragged me back to my cell.

My attempt to escape that hell, to seek comfort from Ashley, had backfired spectacularly.

That night, I was beaten until I lost consciousness. I woke to the icy shock of water being poured over my battered body. My head was held under the filthy water, my lungs burning, fighting for air.

And then, they had destroyed my right hand, the hand that held my dreams, my passion as an artist.

The warden had laughed, his voice laced with cruelty. "Someone hates that hand of yours, Leo. It had to go."

I had screamed, thrashed, but it was useless. My hand, my future, were crushed, just like my spirit.

I knew why Ethan hated my hands. As long as I was around, he would never be the top designer. His only victory had been a stolen one, orchestrated by Ashley.