Note: I own nothing, I wont ever own anything. I thank you for reading though.

The Deceiver Chapter 1: Dreams and Reality

The door swung open, darkness being cut by blinding light. A flinch, a sudden silent whimper of fear, tears breaking forward.

A footstep stepping forward, a click, the light disappearing.

No sound from the prisoner, no sound from the tormenter. Just footsteps. Quiet remorseless footsteps. No chance of escape. No chance of freedom. Hesitation? Yes, hesitation from the torturer. Why?

Guilt? No. Terror? Yes. Shock? The evil being that has done this to him is now scared? But why?

A hand coming towards him. The hand that made blood spill from his emptying veins, the hand that hurt him for a year, his own hand.

He cowered in fear and pain. These cuts, every single cut, was made as a reminder that he was here forever. His soul would be dragged to hell from the sin he created, no. He would never die. His enemy won't allow it.

"Link" The questionable voice. The person that was coming and bringing more pain spoke his name. He didn't need to question to know, something was off.

The hero couldn't take the pain; he couldn't take the torture no more. He moved against his bonds closer to the wall but the hand followed. He shook in fear. His hands were pulled painfully above his head stretching against gravity's unbreakable grip.

"Please no more… I can't take any more today…" The hero whispered. Fear clouded his senses; he just knew that he was going to be hurt. He shook in fear as he sobbed. The ground was cold and wet, just like the heart of the demon. His hands were suddenly released from the bonds above his head.

"It's ok…" The voice lied. Why would he be okay now? Those hands reached for him and he used his free ones to protect himself. He listened to his instincts, his instincts said to run.

For all he knew, he could play another "fun" game of screaming, or perhaps his tormenter would be kind and only throw him in the pit with the yellow chu chus, or the Remlits.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you." The voice broke his prayers and shocked him. A hand gently brushed the hair from his face.

The young hero shrunk deeper to the ground. All bad things happened to him. Nothing good. This voice deceived him, tricked him, and made him think there was a way out when there was nothing, not even a crack in the walls.

His hands hurt from being hung from the ceiling, his left ankle, shattered from where the demon stepped, making it snap like a twig. His throat was the worst, it burned like fire every time he inhaled and exhaled. A combination of rarely getting any liquid, and screaming his loudest, it didn't surprise him. The hand returned and brought his head up, causing chills to run through his spine.

"What happened to you?" The person asked. What happened was 365 days of torture, his body being broken piece by piece. His spirit, crushed. His hope was stolen by the greedy hands of the devil, his heart was too broken to even fix. Yet this person still asked what happened.

A gasp. A simple small gasp filled with horror and amazement. Does he not see his creation? The hero, the torture's creation. If maybe he wouldn't have left home… maybe he'd be okay. If only he had listened.

Link jerked his head from the hand and whimpered as the person got down to his level. What was going to happen? Would he finally be granted the death he longed for?

Not possible…

"Open your eyes. You must trust me. I am here to help." Yes, the voice said that to him a lot. They were here to help. In other words, they were here to "discipline" the boy.

"Please… leave me alone." He begged with all his strength, not that the demon would listen. He was exhausted as he turned his head away, barely floating along the lines of consciousness. Hardly any sleep was granted to him. Maybe after three days, he would get some sleep.

"Link, you must trust me. We must hurry before the person returns." The person? His rescue? No, he didn't want to leave if someone was here for him. "Link, I need you to trust me, look at me." The voice was irritated.

Reluctantly, Link turned his head back. Using all his remaining strength, he looked up. Not only did he see illusions, he saw two. This game was too familiar. Last time it was Headmaster Gaepora, now it was Groose and Zelda.

"Stop…" Link dropped his head again.

"Link, can you walk? We're here to rescue you! Please respond." The voice was desperate. Almost real, but still an allusion.

"Hey, it looks like he won't be able to, not with that broken ankle." The person sounded like Groose. Just like the first time "rescue" came.

"You'll have to carry him. Maybe I can calm him. He doesn't see us." The person like Zelda suggested.

Glass hit together from not too far away. It seemed like an eternity before a mist clouded his vision, knocking him out.

He must've died to feel this peaceful.

Review, tell me what you think.

Focus question: Are Groose and Zelda an illusion, a dream, or reality?