Dark Paradise

Just let me go!

Peter opened his eyes and looked around the room sleepily. He wanted to sit down, but the man's arm prevented him from doing so. He turned his head to the left and, in the darkness, recognized the outline of his captor's sleeping face, the man hadn't let him out of his sight since his suicide attempt. Carefully, he lifted Tony's rather muscular arm and pulled himself out of his arms. He pulled back the blanket and stood up slowly. With a pounding heart, he picked up his T-shirt and pants from the ground and slowly quietly left the room, closing the door carefully behind him. With a click of the clique, he closed his eyes and breathed. He dressed in the hallway, made sure the bandage wrapped around his forearms was in order, and went down the stairs to the ground floor. He tried not to make the slightest sound, but the farther he was from the bedroom, the more he realized he was making noise. He ran to the front door and tried to open it. Locked. How else? He looked around the hall desperately. He began rummaging through the table next to the hanger, looking for a bunch of keys, a key, whatever. His efforts were eventually rewarded, and the boy triumphantly pulled a bunch of keys from the pocket of one of his coats. He didn't wait for anything and began inserting the keys into the keyhole one by one. He finally found the right one and turned it over. He took a few steps back and reached for his sweatshirt.

"You're not going to stop, are you?" Came a hoarse voice behind him. God, he never sleeps! Peter winced and turned sharply.

"What are you doing here ?!"

"Nothing."

"Want to run away again?"

"No?"

"Is that a question or an answer?"

"Answer?"

"Oh, come on," Tony whispered. "You might like it here if you want to." He stepped forward. Peter, on the other hand, backed away. Eventually, the boy ended up huddled in the doorway, staring in fright at Tony standing just inches in front of him. He felt the clique behind him, squeezed it, and ran out into the cold night. He didn't know where he was going to, but the only thing for him was to escape.

He wasn't even four meters from the door, and the man was already pushing him against the shiny hood of his car. He didn't even sweat. He trapped the brunette under his body and held out his hand to Peter's cheek. The boy closed his eyes and waited for a painful slap or any other sign of punishment, but the foreign fingers just gently ran over his cheek and then they stuck a strand of brown hair, twisting slightly into curls, behind his ear, and moving to his chin, which they lifted slightly. Immediately, they grabbed him tightly by the neck and slammed his head against the car. The young man screamed in fright.

"Am I a jerk for you?!" the man growled.

"N-No," he said, startled. "Of course not." 

Tony was tired from Peter's attempts to get free. After the play the boy performed a few days ago, during which he managed to scare Stark to death, he was no longer in the mood for any more games from his workshop. The boy fought desperately for breaths, his lungs longing for oxygen. Instinctively he tried to get the man's fingers out of his throat, but this fight was lost from the very beginning. His pupils widened in horror, and he thought that Tony's cup of patience was probably slowly but surely getting into an overflowing state. He began to panic.

"You haven't figured it out yet, have you? The world swallows thousands like you every day. Before you know it, you'll die before you live. I'm just trying to protect you, no one out there will do that. You may think that your "beloved" aunt, who you keep talking about, loves you and cares about you, but try to strain your head. Did you mention that you have financial problems, won't she be better off without you?" he paused, waiting for a response. 

The young man didn't answer, just continued to fight for the breath.

"Sure, it'll hurt for a while and she may mourn, but then, after a while, she'll find out she doesn't miss you at all," Tony continued his emotional blackmail. His goal was to finally get under the boy's skin and do it through his aunt was great idea.

"T-That's not true." Tony shook his head at the boy's sentence. Wrong answer.

"I didn't want to do it, but you don't give me a choice. I want you to understand that, so I'll tell you clearly, "he muttered, leaning over the boy as they touched their noses,  "you'll show something like this one more time and you'll go to the cellar, understand?" He let go of his throat and the boy, who was already half unconscious, slipped to his knees and began to cough as he gasped for breath.

"I was beginning to worry that the cellar wouldn't be," said younger sarcastically, trying to not let Stark's words hit him like a sharp arrow right in his heart. He just managed to fan the man's anger even more. Tony's eyebrows took a V-shaped position, he grabbed Peter's wrist and pulled him back into the house.

"Let me go," the brunet swung to his feet, pounding Tony with his free hand. "Just let me go!"

The man led him to a flight of stairs on the other side of the house, which was not easy for them to reach, and opened a dark door at the end. He pushed Peter mercilessly onto the cold floor and snapped his hands into the chains that were attached to the wall, before the brunet could recover or defend himself. With the words "I'll give you time to think," he was about to leave, but Peter suddenly stood up again and with a shout he ran to Stark. But his hands stopped just in front of the man's body, the chains refuse to let him go. Tony smiled as he looked into his dark eyes full of despair.

"So I guess we'll have to spice it up and I'll probably have to raise you a little," said the stony-faced man. "You know what people say ... A word to the wise is sufficient."

He walked over to the closet a short distance from him. As he rummaged through it, Peter looked around. It was dark in the room, but the light from the hallway revealed the outlines of things in it. He swallowed hard when he realized that it was no ordinary cellar.

Tony pulled out a whip and Peter winced.