Chapter 14
Sean
I pull at the restraints that chain me to the concrete wall, spreadeagle, the metal clinking as I fight to break free.
Blood trickles down my forearm from where the iron cuffs have sliced into my wrists.
I scream into the cloth gag stuffed into my mouth as I’m forced to watch my best friend be tortured in front of me.
They’ve jacked with the thermostat again.
This time, the room is freezing as the air conditioning blasts us with icy air, but I hardly notice as I focus all my energy on the impossible feat of escaping my binds.
I could handle this, could tolerate the agonizing torture, but the last twenty-four hours have pushed me to the precipice of my breaking point.
Jace has been beaten to unconsciousness several times, and scarlet tears stream from his abused body.
His blood is now a permanent stain in my mind’s eye as I was conscripted to watch the once-gray cement turn the shade of red wine.
I’ll hear his shrill, piercing screams when Jennings threatened his mother’s life until the day I take my last breath, which at this point, is seeming sooner than later.
Over the last day, I’ve been required to stay awake and forced to watch every moment of his turmoil.
If I closed my eyes or looked away, they’d pelt me with ice cubes or beat me, then make things worse for Jace.
He got punches to the gut because I refused to watch him continue to be assaulted after he’d begun to bleed.
“I wonder,” Thompson sneers, “how many buckets it takes for your balls to shrivel up and disappear?”
Jace is hooded now with a black bag over his head, and he thrashes in the metal chair, tossing his head back and forth, unintelligible words falling from his throat.
He wails as the bucket of icy water is dumped into his lap, the cubes of ice clattering to the floor sounding like gunshots. It’s already sub-arctic in here, and I yank on my chains so hard that I wonder if I’ve broken my wrist.
They dump another bucket onto his exposed genitals, and I watch as his body visibly shakes from repeated exposure to the freezing temperature. Fuck, this is bad.
I don’t know how much more of this either of us can take.
The only thing keeping us alive is the sick enjoyment and twisted sadism of Jennings and Thompson.
If I’d known how utterly deranged Jennings was, I might’ve moved him to the unit that worked directly with me.
Would things have gone differently with Borman, Jones, and Davis if I had?
No use dwelling on that, though. He’s clearly where he belongs now.
By no means am I a good person. I’m fucked up, and I recognize that.
I like inflicting pain on others. Shit, hurting Louhi gets me harder than the wall I’m chained to.
I’m not necessarily proud of that fact, but I’m coming around to accepting it, especially after seeing the way Lou owns every dark corner of herself.
While I want to deny it, I understand how they’re able to do this. If the roles were reversed, I’d have no problem torturing either of these men. I’d even enjoy it.
But the roles aren’t reversed, and I refuse to let Jace die because he wouldn’t kill me. I knew that was a test, but his loyalty and friendship came first, and he wasn’t going to take that risk. I would’ve done the same thing if I’d been in his position.
They dump three more buckets of water with cubes of ice on his crotch in quick succession. I imagine that it’d be like being punched in the nuts repeatedly with a frozen fist. He screams, and my insides curl as I silently plead with Louhi to get here soon. Where are you, baby?
“Should we switch to dry ice? I bet we can make your balls fall off, but they’ll get nice and blistered and burned first.”
Horror slaps me across the face. I screech into my gag, begging them to stop as Jennings disappears into the storage room, presumably to get dry fucking ice. I don’t recall us having that when I was here.
As soon as he returns, crouching between Jace’s spread knees, there’s a knock on the metal door, and Thompson opens it. From this angle, I can’t see who it is, and they speak too low for me to hear, but the major is suddenly barking, “Jennings, get them back to their cells. We’re done for today.”
Jennings grumbles something I can’t make out, but does as he’s commanded, and I sag against my restraints, but my relief is short lived.
When I’m finally unshackled, Jennings twists my left arm behind my back painfully, then knees me in the lower back while pulling up on my arm until it’s dislocated from its socket.
He grins as I howl in agony, crumpling to the floor as I cradle my lame limb.
Less than a handful of moments later, I’m locked back in the box that’s too small for me, causing a stress position that’s compounded by my now-injured shoulder.
Luckily, Jace is in Cell Seven, directly next to mine. And I shout over the blaring music, “Jace, are you alright?”
I wait until I hear a groan in reply, before adding, “Hang on, alright.”
If Louhi doesn’t get here soon, I’ll be begging for death.
If I’m honest, I’m already beginning to plead for the reaper.