Chapter 25
Iwake up.
Not gently. Not with the soft light through curtains or the comfortable press of a pillow. I wake up to light. Harsh, unforgiving, white light that seems to burn right through my eyelids even as I try to blink it away.
It’s too bright.
Too loud.
My eyes fly open, but even that’s a mistake because the light is everywhere, reflecting off cold, hard surfaces.
Rough, grey concrete walls stretch around me like a cage.
The floor is freezing cold beneath me. I try to move, to push myself up but my limbs feel heavy and unresponsive.
Panic starts to bubble in my chest; a cold, sharp thing, and then I register that awful burning between my legs, in my arse too.
Where am I?
The last thing I remember… Antonio. The dark, suffocating weight of that room, the despair… then… his hands? Voices shouting, taunting words… then… nothing.
Blankness.
Silence, except for the frantic hammering against something…
No. Nooo.
I try to scream, but no sound comes out. Just a dry, pathetic gasp. My throat feels tight, raw. My mouth is incredibly dry, my tongue thick and heavy. I lick my lips, tasting nothing but dust and despair.
I think I’d give anything for a drink of water right now.
I am naked. Utterly, completely naked. The shock of it hits me hard, stealing the last of my self-control. There’s no shame, no embarrassment in this moment. Only a raw, primal terror mixed with the dawning horror of my situation. How did I get here? What is this place?
My eyes adjust slowly to the harsh light, scanning the concrete walls. They’re bare, featureless. No windows, no doors visible. Just the four grey walls and the unforgiving floor.
It feels like some awful repetition of my previous cell, only there’s grey now instead of white.
As I try to stand, something goes off. It’s a noise, a sound. A high-pitched, grating shriek that seems to pierce the air itself, vibrating through my very bones.
It’s so loud it feels like it’s going to make my eardrums burst.
I instinctively clasp my hands over my ears, pressing my palms hard against my temples, trying to block it out.
It doesn’t help much. The sound is everywhere, wrapping around me, suffocating me.
It’s like nails on a chalkboard but a thousand times worse; a continuous, agonizing whine that threatens to shred my sanity.
And then it stops as suddenly as it started, leaving a deafening silence behind.
The silence is almost as terrifying as the scream. It amplifies the emptiness of the room, the coldness of the concrete. I stay frozen, hands still pressed to my ears, listening intently while waiting for that awful noise to start again.
I push myself up slowly, using my hands to lever myself onto shaky knees. My legs feel weak, unsteady. The movement sends a jolt of dizziness through me. I sway, catching myself on the cold wall.
The door slides open with a soft hiss, and a shadow falls across the concrete floor.
He’s tall, lean, and moves with a predatory grace.
I know from the second I see him that this man is not Antonio.
He wears all black from head to toe. Black trousers that fit him like a second skin, hugging his long legs.
Black boots that scrape faintly on the concrete floor as he takes one step after another, and a black t-shirt that absorbs the little light that reaches the bottom of the walls.
His face is a strangers, his eyes are dark, and they seem to catalogue me, to measure me as he takes in the room and then focuses entirely on me.
He stops a few feet away, just out of reach.
Who is he? What the fuck is going on here?
He doesn’t speak immediately. He just stares.
And the air shifts. Changes.
The oppressive silence is broken by his breathing. A low, steady rhythm that somehow makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and a voice in my head scream that I’m in danger.
Only, there’s nowhere for me to go. Nowhere I can escape to.
He raises a long, thin metal looking staff in his hand. It’s polished chrome, sleek and menacing. The end glows with a faint, eerie blue light, humming almost imperceptibly.
He looks at me and I feel a jolt of pure, unadulterated fear shoot through my system. I want to run, I want to scream, I want to disappear.
But I can’t.
I can’t do any of those things.
He raises the staff, the tip aimed the way one does a sword they’re about to impale you on. The humming sound intensifies slightly. I close my eyes, bracing myself for the impact, for the pain I know must come.
Crack.
The sound is sharp, loud in the sudden silence. The staff connects squarely with my shoulder, the metal biting into my flesh with shocking force. Pain explodes outwards, a white-hot agony that makes me cry out, but no sound escapes my throat.
I gasp, stumbling back, clutching at the injured shoulder, the shock of it stealing my breath.
“Never look at a master...”
His voice is low, rough, devoid of any emotion I can comprehend. It’s a command and a threat all wrapped into one.
He doesn’t wait for me to process his words.
He raises the staff again, the blue light pulsing.
This time, it connects with the soft flesh over my ribs.
The impact is less focused, more of a jarring blow meant to punish my defiance, my inability to obey the first command.
Pain radiates outwards, sharp and stabbing.
I double over, gasping, my vision blurring at the edges.
“…without permission,” he adds, his voice flat, bored even. Like this is just another Tuesday for him.
I stay doubled over, trembling, the pain washing over me in waves. Tears burn my eyes, stinging hot and sharp. I want to beg, to plead, but something deep inside me screams against it. Against showing weakness. Against giving him the satisfaction.
He sees my slight movement, my attempt to recover, and he raises the staff again. The blue light glimmers.
“Where is Antonio?” I practically scream the words, scream them so quickly to get them out. I don’t understand where I am or what this is, and why he is not here.
He doesn’t wait. The cattle prod is pressed firmly against my side, and a jolt of electricity courses through me. It’s a deep, penetrating pain that makes me cry out. I collapse back onto the concrete, the air rushing out of my lungs in a sob.
“Silence,” he says, his voice devoid of any trace of humanity. “You are not allowed to talk.”
“But…”
He brings the staff down again, not on me, but on the concrete floor right beside my head. The metal strikes with a sharpness that makes me flinch, expecting another blow.
“Look at me.” he snaps, the anger in his voice unmistakable now.
I obey, my eyes fixed on his dark, unreadable face. He leans in slightly, invading my personal space, his presence overwhelming, suffocating.
“Now,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper that is somehow even more menacing.
He gets up close to me now, his shadow falling over me completely. He looks me over, his eyes scanning my face, my body. He grabs my cheek, and it’s not a reassuring touch; it’s possessive, invasive.
“You are a dog,” he says, his voice calm, matter-of-fact. “And all dogs have to learn.”
He raises the cattle prod again, the black tip hovering near my shoulder. I flinch violently, my eyes wide with terror.
“Do you understand?” he asks, his voice dangerously soft.
I shake my head, unable to find my voice, my body trembling uncontrollably.
He presses the prod against my skin again, and a searing pain lances through me. I scream this time; a raw, guttural sound of pure agony.
He moves the prod away but the fear lingers, thick and heavy in the air. He bends down, his face inches from mine. His eyes lock onto mine, boring into my very soul.
“Remember this,” he whispers, his breath warm against my face. “This is what happens when you disobey. When you speak without permission, when you look at your master without his leave.”
He straightens up, his expression unreadable again.
“Get up,” he commands, his voice returning to its earlier flat tone.
I try to obey but the pain, the sheer terror makes movement impossible. I lie there trembling, my body aching, my mind reeling.
I know he’s going to do it, I see the flare of electricity before he presses it against my skin but there’s nothing I can do. I scream as he hurts me, as he shocks me, as he hits me with so much pain I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t do anything.
And then it stops.
The fear is so profound, so absolute that I can’t summon the strength to move. I stay there, naked and broken on the cold concrete floor, the echo of his words and the fresh sting of pain branding me.
His eyes are empty, calculating as he stares back at me. “Your training begins now,” he says, his voice flat and final. “And you will obey.”