Catch the Thunder

The Darkest Storm

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter deals with child abuse and ... well, I'm not even sure what to label it, but it's sick and intense. Brace yourself.

You are strong. I know you can handle a fictional story and stay grounded. You've got this.

TWELVE YEARS EARLIER

A cold concrete room.

The stench of chemicals and cleaners.

The whirling noise of machines.

Above him, five blinding lights.

Under him, a frigid metal table.

It was a room Laxus knew, a place he dreaded.

He only felt, not saw. He often kept his eyes shut when his father set up the equipment, since if he got scared at the sight of needles and knives, if he dared to make the slightest whimper, he would be hit. It was better to close his eyes and try to be as still and silent as possible.

He lay there naked, his arms strapped down to the table with belts. That always meant lots of pain, and that made Laxus almost want to cry, yet he couldn't. He was too scared.

Even as a thick needle pierced his skin, he no longer flinched. He was used to the pain, and he had learned long ago that tensing up only made things worse.

He waited for the inevitable drip of chemicals into his blood system. If he was lucky, it was an anesthetic, and he would wake up to bandages and deep aching pain from surgical incisions. If he was unlucky, the chemicals sent liquid fire through his veins that made him beg the Lord to be merciful and send an angel to kill him.

Mercy never came, until he long ago doubted there was a God, since no god would leave a child to suffer like that.

This time, there was no pain. He almost wanted to be glad, but he had forgotten what hope even felt like.

As Ivan set up more equipment for this newest experiment, he spoke in a monotone into a tape recorder, some technical words Laxus did not understand.

Then he felt something completely new, and that shocked him enough to open his eyes.

His father had grabbed his ankle and pulled it sharply to the edge of the metal table, strapping it down with another set of restraints. Then his other leg was pulled to the opposite side and bound. Although he had grown used to nudity, he now felt uncomfortable exposed. His breathing began to come faster in fear.

He could do nothing more than raise his head and look down as Ivan forced some sort of plastic device onto his penis. Although he knew the consequences, Laxus still yelled.

Sure enough, a merciless hand hit him across the face.

"Do you think I want to run a test like this on you, of all people? I've invested too much time on you already, and accelerated puberty doesn't seem to be working. Your testosterone levels are far below expectations. Hell, I wondered if you were even XY, maybe you had XXY chromosomes, but your DNA seems to be normal. I need to jump-start semen production somehow for the next series of tests, and this is the best I can come up with. I'm not about to waste my time explaining masturbation to a child of your age, and I can't trust you to do it right anyway, so I guess we have to do it this way. It's your own fault for being so weak."

Once again, his explanation made no sense, he was saying words way above what Laxus had learned before being taken out of school and hidden away in this sterile place. So he was left without knowing why his father was doing this to him.