![]() He punched, kicked, and slapped you, over and over while he shouted words that you couldn't hear, as if you already knew what they were and your mind had intentionally blocked them out. ![]() He kneeled in front of your slightly quivering form, and started beating you. He stalked over towards you, each step echoing off the walls like an earthquake, making you wince, only getting worse as he got closer. He completely terrified you, but you tried to show no fear. His whole figure emanated with authority and power, leaving you with only a sense of fear and dread. He unlocked the door and stepped inside the cell. A distasteful scowl that seemed so familiar was spread across his stone cold face. And you knew there was no escape.Ī man stood in front of the cell door, looking through the tiny window with a few small bars, directly at you. This place felt strangely familiar, like you knew it well. Besides your neck, you couldn't move an inch, since the chains bound you everywhere. You were locked in a dungeon like cell, heavily chained and gagged to the dirty, musty wall behind you. When you lifted your head from your knees, you found that now you were in a different hell-hole. You were all alone, and you knew it was going be like this for the rest of your life. There was no one around to help or comfort you. You had no friends, family, or people that didn't think you were a wild beast. You collapsed, exhausted from the pain, and curled up into a ball, hugging your knees and lowering your head into them. They followed you until you finally lost them in a place of the village you didn't know, all you knew was that it was somewhere dark. Couldn't they all see the weak and pained child crying right in front of them instead of the monster they claim you to be? You couldn't take it anymore, and even though it hurt, you picked your weak, damaged, and trembling legs up, and started to run away. ![]() This is what happened everyday, and didn't why they did this, why they hated you so much. Some had started throwing things already, anything they could find: food, trash, rocks, even glass bottles. You stood in your weak 7-year-old body in the middle of the Leaf Village, tears pouring down your face from your now dull (E/C) eyes like a water fall. The people started advancing towards you, ready to beat you for the second time that day. Everyone around you was yelling, shouting names solely directed at you, ones that you knew all too well.
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