Summer, 2003.

Ethan Chandler had just turned nineteen when he was shackled and sent to Pingcheng Prison.

A week earlier, he had attended a classmate’s party. After some coaxing from his buddies, he finally confessed to the girl he’d crushed on for three years—only to get brutally rejected.

Heartbroken and drunk out of his mind that night, Ethan passed out.

When he came to, the nightmare had already begun. The girl—completely naked and battered—was lying dead beside him.

She'd clearly been assaulted before her death.

Then, a few so-called witnesses came forward, claiming they saw Ethan dragging her into a hotel by force. Their statements alone were enough to get Ethan thrown behind bars in less than a week.

He shouted over and over again that he was innocent. No one listened.

Outside the prison gates, Ethan’s parents knelt with a cardboard sign stained in blood-red letters: “WRONGED.” They begged anyone who’d hear them for justice.

On the other side were a dozen family members of the victim, crying, wailing, wearing white armbands.

When the prison truck rolled up, both sides rushed toward it. Chaos broke out. Outnumbered, Ethan's parents were knocked to the ground and beaten.

Guards at the gate finally stepped in and pulled everyone apart.

Robert Chandler’s forehead was split open, blood streaking down his face. But he didn’t care. He just screamed at the truck disappearing into the prison, “Son, don’t be scared!”

“Dad knows you didn’t do it!”

“Even if it costs me everything, I’ll clear your name!”

Ethan saw it all through the barred window. The tears wouldn’t stop.

Once inside and registered, Ethan was placed in a cell with seven other inmates—big, mean-looking guys and not the friendly type.

They gave him the once-over and smirked like predators circling prey.

As soon as the guards left, the group closed in.

“Hey, pretty boy,” said the one with the scar across his face, sizing him up, “What’d they lock you up for?”

Ethan swallowed hard. “I… I was framed…”

Before he could finish, a punch landed straight into his gut. The pain doubled him over instantly, bile rising in his throat.

He’d never been hit like that before. It felt like his whole body cracked from the inside.

Scarface stomped on his head, sneering, “Bullshit. If you're in here, you did something.”

“When I ask you something, answer properly.”

“You don’t follow rules, you get beat.”

Ethan sobbed, “I swear, I didn’t do anything…”

“Still lying, huh?” Scarface growled. “Beat the truth outta him!”

The others jumped in, pummeling him until his face was a swollen mess. Then they dragged him back to Scarface.

Pressing his boot down on Ethan’s head, the guy asked again, “So, what’re you in for?”

Ethan gritted his teeth. Even then, he wouldn’t back down. “I was framed…”

Scarface lost it. “Guess we didn’t hit hard enough!”

“Tie him up!”

They used bed sheets to suspend Ethan by his wrists, then took turns beating him for over an hour.

Still, Ethan refused to say anything different.

Eventually, they let him down—but only because they didn’t want to kill him.

From then on, they treated Ethan like a punching bag. If they were in a bad mood? Slap. If he looked at them wrong? Another beating.

He was nothing to them—less than nothing.Ethan Chandler once tried reporting the bullying to the guards. One of Scarface’s lackeys got punished for it.

And the result? Ethan got strung up and beaten the whole night by Scarface and his crew—barely made it out alive.

After that, he kept his head down. Whenever he saw them coming, he turned the other way.

His only hope was his parents. He believed they'd clear his name and get him out of this hellhole.

Time crept by. Three months went in a flash.

But over the past few days, Ethan had been restless.

His parents hadn’t visited in over a month.

They’d never missed a visit. Not once. It was the one thing he and his folks looked forward to—it kept him going.

Now, they'd just stopped coming. That made his skin crawl.

He didn’t think they’d give up on him. So... had something happened to them?

That night, Ethan quietly asked one of the nicer guards, Marshall Thompson, if he could check on them.

Next day at lunch, Marshall walked over, looking grim.

“Ethan... just got word. Brace yourself, kid.”

Ethan’s hand trembled. Deep down, he already knew.

Marshall took a deep breath, then lowered his voice. “Half a month ago, your parents were riding their motorcycle into the city. They were trying to appeal your case… but they got into an accident. They didn’t make it.”

Tears burst from Ethan's eyes. His worst fear had come true.

They were gone.

Marshall sighed and rested a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry, kid. Hang in there.”

Ethan just sat there, dazed. His mind lit up with flashes of their faces, their voices. It felt like something inside him had broken.

Not long after, Scarface and his crew swaggered over and sat down nearby.

Scarface casually pushed half of Ethan’s food onto his own tray, then dumped some scraps from his plate into Ethan’s.

“Well, well. Special treat today, kid. Some bones—on the house. You’re welcome!”

He and his cronies burst out laughing.

Ethan didn’t respond. His grief had drained everything. He just stared blankly ahead.

Scarface misread the look and snapped. “What the hell are you staring at?”

“Upset ‘cause I took your food? Fine, I’ll give something back!”

He spat right into Ethan’s food, grinned, and said, “There. Eat it all. Don’t leave a damn crumb.”

“You don’t, I swear, I’ll string you back up tonight.”

Still silent, but Ethan’s eyes slowly lit up—not with life, but something darker. Something deadly. His hands began shaking.

Was it grief? Rage? Maybe both. Something was boiling inside him, something that wouldn’t stay down.

He gripped his chopsticks tightly. Blood pounded in his ears as he stared at them.

Wrongfully jailed. Now his parents were dead—all because of this nightmare.

He didn't care anymore. Fear was gone. Hope was gone.

All he had left was the fury tearing him apart inside.

If this was how it ended, so be it—but he wasn’t going quietly.

Scarface raised his tray, ready to smash it into Ethan’s face.

But that was when Ethan snapped.

With a roar, he lunged and drove the chopsticks straight into Scarface’s eye.