Kurapika slammed you to the ground in the dark alley, the force knocking the air from your lungs. You coughed violently, the metallic tang of blood filling your mouth. This was what you deserved-the disgusting wetness of Yorknew's streets beneath you and the sharp ringing in your ears that blurred everything else.

He stood above you, chains clutched tightly in his trembling hands, his chest heaving with fury. His eyes blazed like fire, but his lips quivered-those same lips you had once been lucky enough to feel.

With each strike of his chains, you felt his devastation, his betrayal, and his sorrow. The anguish in his movements was palpable, as though every lash spoke the pain of a shattered trust and a heart torn apart. He had given you his everything, and you had crushed it in your hands.

Every story he'd told you about his family, about the weight of his eyes, came rushing back to you with every blow. The chains felt like extensions of his emotions, digging deeper and deeper, tearing into your flesh and your soul.

"I trusted you," he yelled, his voice breaking as he lashed at your leg, the words slicing through you as sharply as his chains.

You couldn't move. You didn't fight back. You just took the weakening strikes, the halfhearted jabs, until they stopped.

Finally, he collapsed in front of you, his chains clattering to the ground as they disappeared. His hands cradled his face, his shoulders shaking with heavy gasps. His breaths came ragged and uneven, his grief consuming him as he knelt there, broken and devastated, just inches away.