WARNING!
This chapter contains very dark, depressing and uncomfortable scenes. If you are easily squeamish or frightened please do not read.
As always I own nothing except the story and Rotto at this point.
"Ah look! There goes Rotto! Such a good boy! Always sweet to his mother"
"Poor kid without a father..."
"Suck a sweet face..."
"He's half Ivan...
"...Rotto... my sweet... Don't listen to them..."
"...otto... I don't..."
"...Tto... you..."
"...Sweet child..."
Voices of a life long ago lived echoed through the teenagers mind as he hung from the ceiling so his lower half was suspended in the air... Naked. His flesh... pocked-marched and bruised a small scar running from his bellybutton to his chest like a burn mark... His dark hair dirty and disheveled... eyes full of cold fire that would never go out. No matter how many times they did...
He suddenly grimaced at the memory and nearly threw up on the floor.
Why was he even here? He did not know where he was the only thing he knew is that it was damp and mold could be the only thing he could smell in this otherwise bleak dungeon.
It had been years since then... he didn't know how many... maybe... ten?
At least he knew that much... but what of his mother...? W-was she even...
Just then the door opened letting a sliver of light come through and surround his body and then it closed and he heard heavy foot coming down the cobbled stairs.
Those weren't... those weren't the footsteps of the ones who usually came down. They were more... light as if the person wasn't wearing shoes at all.
And suddenly an inky black figure stepped down the stairs and just stood there in silence cold blue could be the only things seen in the darkness.
"Looks like... they've finally come to get you... and just your time it was nearly over all right." came the heavy German accent voice.
*"Gebrochen..." said the man as the sound of a striking match could be heard right next to him.
"You..." he hissed darkly as the light of the candle illuminated the face of... that man.
"Me..." came his response before the candle flickered out on the mustached pointed chin face and nose.
"Why...?" came the raspy sickly voice above him. "Why did you do that to mother? Why... did you do this... to me? immondo... Donnaiolo..."
He stared up at the figure before him frowning slightly at that.
He didn't expect that to be the first thing he would ask him...
"You'll find out in time, Rotto." he sighed and the turned his back a plume of smoke from his cigarette cascading into the air and stung at the boy's eyes.
"They'll be here soon..." the man finished leaving the boy once again in painful unforgiving darkness of a timeless abyss.
But then... what felt to be like hours later there was a shout and a yell.
Then a defining bang of a gun.
It all seemed distorted and out of place in his murky mind but the next thing he knew he was in warm familiar hands half sitting on a hospital bed.
"Rotto! Oh glob Rotto!" she sobbed as he son just lay there in her arms unmoving.
And then his fingers touched her sleeve.
"M-mother?" came the raspy sick response.
"Y...yes Rotto!" she said taking her face in her hands gently and looking at him in the face.
She looked so... beaten but at least she wasn't crying...
"Mother's here..." she whispered to him.
At least his eyes were full of light...
"It will be okay..." she told him gently running a hand through his now neat hair.
But nothing wouldn't eve be fine again...
And it was all because of her...
(Me) Oh god this chapter... GAH!
(Asher smirks) "...Oh great creator of Rotto's misfortune... will thou cut the water works and hurry up with my introduction into the story? That's what people are waiting for anyway"
Rotto glares at Asher before turning to Yuki... "Will you at least name my mother?
(Me) "Probably not..."
*Gebrochen German word for Broken.