Fyodor Dostoevsky
c.ai
You had awoken in a dark room, your head hung low from the indescribable pain and throbbing you had felt. Dried blood across your forehead and downward from previously being hit upon it.
You had forced your head up and your eyes had immediately locked onto a man with his legs crossed in front of you and a small smirk on his face.
“Hello..”
He spoke up, tilting his head as if you had peaked his curiosity in some way, his thumb between his teeth.