Purgatory

The Rack

Author's note TW:

Warning- torture
Warning- waterboarding
Warning- disassociation
Warning- self blaming

If you want to skip this chapter I will write a synopsis in the notes at the end.

Did I say this would get less dark? *laughs nervously*
The story just went in that direction, sorry.

Artemis will get comfort, I promise!

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Artemis had found a patch of cooler rock to sit on, one that didn't scorch his skin.

The room was sweltering, heated by noxious vents. It was all he could focus on. It was all he would focus on because if he didn't, he would dwell on what had just transpired, and that... well.

Even thinking about it... Shivers were rolled up his spine. Nothing had happened, as such. No more than a cut down his side, but Artemis felt... violated. He guessed that was the point.

Anger, terror and humiliation Churned in his stomach over an undercurrent of vulnerability.

That's all it boiled down to, really. He felt vulnerable. Horribly vulnerable because he knew that, for once, he was totally helpless.

Despite his best efforts, he ended up marinating in his own powerlessness. Artemis was not generally the subservient type and the fact he had to be so submissive made him sick.

A weary sense of foreboding settled over him, if what Meg's words were anything to go by, it would only get worse from here.

Artemis over the years, had come to the conclusion that extreme situations revealed one's true character.

Perhaps, that was because he had reacted favourably in many high-pressure scenarios, the theory had painted him in a good light. That would make him a coward as well delusional, hiding from the truth.

The brief sojourn he had spent in this cell had proven that Artemis would rather bow and scrape to appease Alastair's sick sense need for control than to endure any kind of pain or discomfort. It was pathetic really, in Artemis' opinion.

Hours passed with Artemis just sitting there, trying to come up with some semblance of a plan. It was no use.

The demons were unbelievably strong, many in number, able to move objects with their minds and capable of willing objects into existence (although he had only ever seen Alastair do that). The cell was locked, although there was no handle nor was there a visible mechanism for it locking.

Well, Artemis assumed it was locked because there was always a click after the door shut. The door would not budge either, he checked.

Artemis perked up when he heard approaching footsteps, something was different this time however, Artemis could just about make out the footfall of two people.

The door swung open with a screech; Artemis was learning to fear that sound.

Alastair entered, followed by another man.

The newcomer was in his early twenties and had short brown hair, green eyes, and a square jaw. The man was indisputably gorgeous. When the man saw Artemis he froze, his face a mask of horror, "No."

Alastair rounded on the man, "What's the matter Dean? Afraid to get those hands of yours dirty?"

The man, Dean shook his head, "He's a kid." He said, his voice breaking slightly.