Chapter 154 Family Frame
Darius woke slowly with a heavy breath pressing against his chest as if sleep had wrapped chains around his lungs and was reluctant to release them. His eyes opened to a ceiling that looked unfamiliar, smooth and bright with soft light spilling across it from a window somewhere in the room. For several seconds he remained still, his body adjusting to the quiet surrounding him while his mind struggled to understand why everything felt wrong.
The silence was strange.
He was used to noise, used to rough environments and unpredictable surroundings, but the calm in the room felt controlled and deliberate. The air smelled clean, almost expensive, and that alone made suspicion crawl slowly through his chest.
Darius pushed himself up on the bed, his hands pressing against the mattress as he sat upright. The bed beneath him was far too comfortable compared to what he had grown used to lately. Thick blankets rested around his legs and the pillows behind him were soft enough to swallow his weight.
His eyes moved around the room.
The place was furnished with careful attention. A tall dresser stood near the wall with a polished mirror hanging above it, reflecting a portion of the window that allowed daylight to slip quietly inside. A small table rested beside the bed with a lamp that looked untouched, and a chair sat near the corner as if someone expected him to use it at some point.
But none of those things held his attention for long.
His gaze slowly shifted toward the wall beside the bed.
The moment his eyes settled there his entire body stiffened.
Several picture frames hung neatly across the wall.
Darius stared at them with growing confusion before he slowly pushed the blankets aside and stood up from the bed. His feet touched the floor carefully, his steps measured as he approached the wall like a man unsure whether the images before him were real or part of some strange dream.
He reached the first frame and lifted his hand slowly.
His fingers brushed the glass surface.
The photograph showed a small boy sitting proudly on the shoulders of a tall man. The child held onto the man's hair while laughing openly, his face bright with excitement as if the entire world belonged to him.
Darius felt his chest tighten.
The boy in the picture was him.
There was no doubt about it even though the child was younger and smaller. He recognized his own eyes immediately, and the sight forced a strange ache into his throat.
His gaze shifted to the man holding the boy.
His father.
The memory struck him harder than he expected. The man in the photograph looked strong and confident with steady arms holding his son high while pretending to stumble forward. The expression on his face carried warmth that Darius had not seen in years.
He swallowed slowly before moving toward the next frame.
His hand trembled slightly as he lifted it from the wall.
A woman sat in a wooden chair with a gentle smile resting on her face. The same little boy stood beside her proudly with one hand wrapped around her arm as if showing the world how lucky he was.
Darius froze.
His mother looked exactly as he remembered her, his eyes got cloudy immediately staring deeply into the woman's eyes.
She had died when he was six years old.
The thought pushed against his chest like a quiet wound reopening.
He carefully returned the frame to its place before his eyes moved to the largest picture hanging in the center of the wall.
This one was different.
It showed all three of them together.
His father stood behind his mother with one hand resting on her shoulder while the boy stood proudly between them. His mother had placed her hand gently on the child's head while his father looked down at them with quiet pride.
Darius stared at the image for a long moment without moving.
His father died when he was seven years old.
The memory settled heavily in his chest as he slowly stepped back from the wall.
"What the hell is this?" he murmured under his breath.
His voice sounded rough in the quiet room.
Confusion quickly twisted into frustration as he looked around again. Someone had placed those pictures here deliberately, which meant someone knew exactly who he was and what those memories meant to him.
The thought ignited anger almost instantly.
His gaze snapped toward the door.
Darius walked across the room quickly, his steps no longer cautious as irritation grew stronger inside him. His hand grabbed the door handle and twisted it sharply, but when it did not open immediately his patience snapped.
He slammed his fist against the door.
The sound echoed through the room loudly.
"Hey!" he shouted.
His voice carried frustration as he struck the door again with the side of his fist.
"Who brought me here?"
There was no response.
Darius hit the door harder.
"I know someone is out there," he continued, his voice rising with anger. "So why don't you stop hiding and answer me?"
Silence answered him once again.
His jaw clenched tightly.
"Open this door," he demanded, banging the wood again with growing force.
"Why am I here?"
Still nothing.
His breathing grew heavier as frustration filled his chest.
"Who are you people?" he shouted through the door. "And why are my parents' pictures hanging in that room?"
The silence on the other side only made his anger burn hotter.
Darius grabbed the door handle again and twisted it with irritation.
This time the door opened immediately.
He froze.
The sudden movement caught him off guard and he blinked slowly as the door swung open without resistance.
The door had not been locked.
Darius stood there for a moment before stepping forward into the hallway.
Two guards stood outside the room.
Both men looked calm and uninterested as if nothing unusual had happened.
Darius stared at them in disbelief.
"You heard me banging on the door," he said with clear irritation in his voice.
Neither of them reacted.
His eyes narrowed.
"So why didn't either of you answer me?"
One of the guards slowly rolled his eyes before shifting his weight against the wall.
"Maybe because you could have tried opening the door first?" he replied casually.
Darius stared at him.
The guard shrugged as if the answer was obvious.
"It isn't exactly complicated," he continued. "You turn the handle first and see if the door opens before you start yelling."