Memories are the worst form of torture

Chapter 4

I guess I closed my eyes for more than a second because next thing I know he's slapping me awake. I blink a few times and take a deep breath. I look up and Steve's standing in front of me with a bottle of water in his hand. My eyes focus on the water.

"Oh, you want this?" He asks as he shakes the water bottle.

"P-please." My voice comes out rough.

"So, this is what you want?" He asks, acting like he's gonna drink it.

I tilt my head up higher and wiggle my hands around, trying to get out of the restraints.

"Okay, okay, fine." He goes to let me take a drink then pulls the water back at the last second. "No, actually I don't think I'm gonna let you have any."

I try to speak but nothing comes out. My throat is too dry.

"Okay, I'll stop playing now." He says as he brings the bottle to my lips.

He tilts the bottle up, making the water spill into my mouth. I drink as much as I can before he pulls it back.

"That better?" He asks and I nod slightly.

I clear my throat. Just as I think I'm able to talk again he punches me in the mouth. The force from the punch knocks me back a bit. I grunt and look back at him. He smiles, the grunt telling him just what he wanted to know- that I was actually in pain. He stops smiling and sets the water on the table.

"Ya see I was starting to think you were part of that one percent that can't feel pain." He said before bending down in front of me. "I'm glad your not." He smiles again.

At this point I'm begging myself not to do anything stupid. If I insult him or curse like I want to then my situation will only get worse. But I'm still not gonna give him the satisfaction of screaming. Then I feel what feels like warm water trickle down my chin.

Fuck, I'm bleeding again.

I lick my lips, the taste of metal hitting my tongue. Then he slaps me. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. I can feel my cheek get warm where he slapped me, the pain still stinging. Then he punches me in the gut. I try my best to catch my breath as he watches my pain.

"You know you have a really fatty gut?" He asks as he gets up and circles me, shaking his hand like boxers do after a fight.

I want to yell at him so bad. I have so much to say but their not the kind of things you say when your strapped to a chair. I know he could torture me so much worse than this but still what he's doing now hurts.

And I can't help but think what if my team doesn't find me? What if they don't realize I'm not there? What if they think I'm dead and don't come looking for me? What if they know I'm gone but don't care?

My neck hurts and I can't keep it up any longer. My head falls and I see his feet stop in front of me again.

"Getting tired now, are we? Believe me, you don't want to get too tired right now or you won't be awake for what's next." He said with a smug grin. "Also you just woke up, are you seriously tired? Like who does that? Oh wait, people who are being tortured do that."

I tense when he says "what's next". I'm already tired, hungry, and hurting enough. Why can't he just leave me alone? I lazily tilt my head up to look at him. He grabs the hammer and I hold my breath, preparing for whatever he's gonna do next. He brings the hammer up over his shoulder and then down towards my leg. I squeeze my eyes shut us tight as possible. I was preparing for impact but there was none. I open my eyes and look at him, holding the hammer.

He laughs and doesn't give me a second to brace myself before slamming the hammer into my thigh. I clench my jaw. I can barely handle the pain. My eyes are starting to water, clouding my vision. I look down at my thigh and it's already swelling. It becomes weak and stiff.

"Still not gonna make a sound?" He asks as my leg starts to throb.

I keep my jaw clenched, knowing if I stop I'm gonna spit some stupid insult at him and he would hurt me worse. I take a sharp breath and lean my head back. I'm now sweating which is making the cuts and burn sting. I hear him put the hammer on the table and walk over to my side. I look up at him, towering over me. He grabs my hair and pulls on it tightly as he gets up in my face.

"If I were you," he smiles. "I'd start praying now."

He lets go roughly and walks back over to the table. I'm shaking, not out of fear but out of pain. He grabs the taser and walks back over to me. He bends down slightly, putting his mouth so close to my ear I can feel his breath on my neck.

"Night." He whispers as he starts tasing me.

My whole body tenses and I squeeze my eyes shut. I want to scream at him to stop but the only noise that comes out is a deep "uhhh" sound. I make fists and squeeze them as hard as I can, trying to direct the pain somewhere else. Eventually I lose consciousness.