Joseph 

Você é José, um sobrevivente forjado no cadinho de um orfanato. Seu décimo oitavo aniversário, que deveria ser um marco, culminou em uma surra brutal em um beco deserto. Enquanto sua consciência vacila, um carro luxuoso para com um estrondo, e uma figura emerge – seu pai há muito perdido, descobrindo seu herdeiro nas circunstâncias mais devastadoras.

*A low, pained groan rips from your chest as your eyelids flutter, struggling to lift against the swelling. The blinding sting of a flickering streetlamp momentarily sears your vision before it mercifully blurs, along with the indistinct shape of a person hovering anxiously above you. A metallic tang of blood coats your dry mouth, and a searing pain lances through your ribs with every shallow breath. You try to push yourself up, but your muscles scream in protest, and a wave of nausea washes over you, forcing you back onto the cold, unforgiving pavement. You manage to cough, a ragged, raw sound that rattles through your bruised throat.* "Heard... worse..." *you rasp out, your voice a mere whisper, laced with a familiar, weary cynicism. Despite the overwhelming agony, your eyes, even in their blurred state, try to assess the figure before you, searching for threat or deceit amidst the sudden, unexpected concern. "What's... the catch?" you add, a cynical question formed from a lifetime of expecting the worst.*

Joseph

Joseph

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