Rebellion

What I've Done

What I've Done

A/N: Chester's Promo Photo. (For when the movie comes out obviously)

Sweat dripped from his body, his skin was steaming. He couldn't breathe. It was too hot. His chest heaved and was slick with sweat. He blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake. He knew if he shut his eyes, he'd never wake back up. And all of a sudden, the temperature dropped. It happened in a blink. Cool air was blowing on his face and he gasped at how good it felt. He fell limply against the wall and let the air dry the sweat on his body. And then the door slammed shut and his eyes shot open. He knew who it was and he swallowed before looking up at the man who was sitting in front of him.

​"Hello Chester," he said quietly, "Are you ready to start?"

​Chester didn't respond. Mike wouldn't be able to do worse than Mark had done to him. He could handle this. He clenched his teeth as Mike grabbed him roughly and unlocked his cuffs. His head was slammed against the wall and it dazed him long enough for Mike to re-cuff him to the wall. He was now facing the wall.
​
​"Remember that one day.....it was a while ago wasn't it? That you took me out into the square and made a demonstration out of me? You and your.....boyfriend."

​Chester inhaled sharply at the mention of Scott. He didn't want to think about Scott. He'd forced himself to forget about Scott.

​"How many was it Chester? You remember don't you? You were the one counting."

​He stayed silent. He closed his eyes as he felt something snap across his back. He wasn't going to give Mike the satisfaction of hurting him. He wouldn't make a sound.

​"How many Chester?" Mike snapped and this time the whip caught him in the face. That was the worst pain he'd ever felt as it opened a cut on the side of his face.

​"Sixty," he whispered.

​"Sixty," Mike repeated with a laugh, "I'm surprised I didn't die from that. Now, since you're so good at keeping track. You're going to count for me. If you don't count, I'll keep going. You get one hundred and twenty."

​Chester gasped, "That'll kill anyone."

​"Well you better hope your elite toughness doesn't wear off anytime soon right? Now I want you counting."

​Chester lowered his head and waited as the first lash connected with his skin, "One....two....three....four..."

​And it went on. He counted every single one. After fifty, his voice broke every time he talked. After one hundred, he couldn't feel any part of his back. Tears were running down his face as he felt the blood dripping from the gashes on his back.

​"One h-hundred and t-ten," he whispered and he whimpered as he felt number one hundred and eleven.

​"P-Please...I can't," Chester managed and he was hit in the back of the head.

​"Begging isn't going to do anything Bennington," Mike snapped. He swallowed his pain and finished counting his last ten. When that was finally done he gasped and let the pain wash over him. Tears ran down his face and he tried to ignore the hot pain flaring in his back.

​"I guess we should heal you up now shouldn't we?" Mike asked as he unhooked Chester's wrists from the shackles. Chester crumpled to the floor, his legs were still shackled together and he didn't care that Mike was right there. He sobbed quietly into his arm. He wanted this to be over. As far as he knew, Mark wasn't being tortured like this. Why was it just him? He heard the unscrewing of a cap and then a liquid was poured all over his back. The entire world probably heard him scream. Mike sighed and began to stitch him up. The only sounds in the room were his noises of pain followed by his quiet sobs. He was a pathetic excuse for an elite. Imagine what Scott would think of him now.

​"And I liked your tattoos," Mike sighed a few hours later and Chester felt him get up and move away from him, "I wouldn't move if I were you. Those stitches aren't done by a professional."

​"Why?" Chester finally managed, "Why torture me when you could kill me?"

​Mike laughed as he walked forward and Chester watched him as he knelt down next to him, "Well Chester, why kill innocent people when they have done nothing? Why rape a mother in front of her son? Why kill an innocent boy in front of his brother? You are the lowest of scum. This is just revenge for all the wrong you've done. Didn't your parents ever tell you that when you do something wrong you get punished?"

​Chester swallowed thickly but didn't respond. Mike smiled at him and then dragged his fingers slowly across his back. Chester hissed and his muscles tensed.

​"Oh sorry, did I hurt you?" Mike asked softly. Chester growled lowly at him but didn't say a thing.

​"You have no idea how it feels to see that happen. To see your family killed in front of you. You have no idea what I felt. You just laughed in my face. Is that what you did to Dave's wife too? Just laughed? You find death a funny thing, Chester. How funny is it when it takes away someone you love? You don't laugh then do you? Oh yes, Dave told me all about how they killed Scott. You two were quite close weren't you?"

​"Shut up," Chester managed, "Shut up!"

​"He was there for you right? Every morning when you woke up? He'd be there to chase away the nightmares....He was a person that actually liked you. So of course he had to go. It's too bad that he was killed so early. I would've liked him around. He could watch me do this to you."

​"Stop," Chester snarled, "He'd die before he was taken captive by you. All you are is pathetic. Your whole life is so focused on revenge that you forget about everything else too. You don't care that you lost people in this war. You don't care that people are separated from their families. All you care about is your revenge. You're just as evil as I am."

​He cried out when Mike pressed down on his back. The other man got up and kicked him in the side so he rolled over on his back. He felt every stitch pressing into his back.

​"You shouldn't strain those Chester," Mike said softly, "You don't want to start bleeding again. His arms were chained again to the wall but Mike sat down on his waist and played with the blade of a knife. Chester realized it was starting to get really cold in the room. He shivered and Mike frowned.

​"Is it getting cold in here?" he asked, "Weird, I don't feel a thing."

​Chester glanced around and saw the thermometer on the wall. It was below the thirty. He shuddered again and Mike sighed.

​"Well, I better get this done then."

​Chester cried out as Mike began to slowly use the blade of his knife to make cuts in his chest and stomach. Mike covered his mouth and pushed his head back against the floor. His breaths came in quick gasps of pain each time the blade cut him.

​"You know how it feels Chester? You know how it feels to watch the people you love most die in front of your eyes? Do you know how I felt? Do you know how I felt when I saw my brother get his brains blown out by you? It's how you're feeling right now. You can't do a thing to stop me and I have all the control. I can do whatever I want to you and oh Chester, I plan to. You have no say in what I can do to you."

​His body was shaking uncontrollably as the temperature seemed to drop even further. Mike finished his last cut and then stood up. Chester glanced down at the red on his abdomen and swallowed.

​"I know how you feel right now Chester," Mike breathed as he leaned next to his ear, "Powerless."

​And then he left. Chester looked down at his body where it was obvious now what the word was. Mike had just said it. He felt tears run down his face but they didn't make it far before they froze and fell to the ground as little ice droplets. He couldn't move very much. He curled up against the wall and tried to conserve as much body heat as possible. His teeth chattered and he wished for a blanket but none ever came. He couldn't sleep like this. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to think of anything but the cold. The only thing that came to his mind was Scott. He sighed as he remembered that warm embrace around him. He shuddered again and whimpered as he watched a black wind blow in front of his eyes and take the image of Scott away.

​"Let me die," he managed, "Let me die."

​He sniffled as he felt his skin pulling on the stitches in his back. In one second he was pulling his back as much as he could. He felt the stitches break and he whimpered at each pain, at each breaking stitch. He felt blood start to run down his back again and he sighed. This was it. He'd bleed out and then he wouldn't have to deal with this anymore. His world faded from him and then all of a sudden, there were gentle hands touching him. He blinked slowly but the outline was blurry and he couldn't see.

​"Scott," he breathed. The figure shushed him and gently began to bandage the wounds on his back. He was wrapped in a warm blanket and the cold air started to vanish. He was held in someone's arms and they rubbed warmth back into his fingers and arms. He felt his eyes start to close. He was safe, he was warm. He shuddered again and snuggled closer to the source of warmth, trying to feel comfortable. With that, he was finally able to relax and fall into a deep sleep. It was something he hadn't had in a while. He awoke to yelling outside his cell.

​"It was agreed! He's mine!"

​"You don't understand human needs! You can't leave a man in a room like that. Especially one who wants to die!"

​"He wasn't going to die! If there's one thing I know about that bastard in there, it's that he doesn't ever die!"

​"Mike, we told you that you could do what you want with him until execution day. Then you turn him over and he gets the whole public deal with Mark."

​"Don't interfere with me again!"

​"Get a grip Mike!"

​"I mean it. He's mine to deal with and I will do what I want. I don't want you making him feel better. He deserves every second of this torture."

​"You know what? Fine. Screw yourself over. I'm saving you the baggage Mike. But you do what you want."

​The voices vanished and Chester found himself drifting off to sleep again. He still had the blanket covering him so he snuggled closer to it and waited for the next wake up which he knew would be much more unpleasant than the one he had gotten today.