Hurt (gone fanfic AU)

Chapter one

The stench of burned flesh made his head spin. His arm lay on the floor, charcoaled flesh crumbling away to reveal stark and brittle bone. He couldn't stand to look at it. He felt sick, and had to choke back hiccuping sobs to keep from hurling. 

The new stitches ached where they stretched over his sizzled skin, and despite the burdening and useless arm being gone, he still felt it screaming in pain. He sobbed from his position on the table, covering his face with his remaining arm to try and gain some privacy. He wished they wouldn't look.

"Drake." Caine's voice was cold, uncaring, but it shivered with worry. Not really worry for Drake, but worry for himself and what Drakes injuries would mean. Now, who would be his right hand man? Certainly not an amputee.

Drake spoke, barely repressing sobs. "D-d-dont fucking look at me." His demand sounded more like a plea.

"Drake, you can't just lie there blubbering like a child. Get up." That would get a rise out of him. It was a harsh demand, for someone who had just lost a limb. But Caine didn't feel for others.

Sure enough, the blonde shakily sat up on the table, but only so that he could meet Caine's eyes with a glare seething in black hatred and tears. It hurt that Caine hadn't killed him. The bastard demanded that he live, and Drake hated him for that.

"Alright, good. At least you're not completely useless."

Drake swore obscenely but weakly and only once, before, without thinking, he threw a punch at Caine's face. It wasn't drakes strongest, but his anger and pain was enough to fuel his violence.

It never made contact. Stopped in mid air, held by an invisible fist. Caine's eyes blazed with dark and empty rage, and a vein was visible near his temple. Drake paled, more than he already was, his skin chalky.

"Sam couldn't have gotten far, Drake. I can still give you to him. What do you think, will he start with your other arm or maybe change things up a bit and burn off your legs? You are mine to do with as I wish, and if you don't behave, I have no problem with turning you over to Sam."

Drakes mind churned, muddied and slowed by the recent pain, but still thinking. In his heart, he knew Sam wouldn't do it. He was too scared of his own power, too cowardly. But his brain said other wise. Drake wouldn't put it past Sam, after all he would do the same. It was all he knew, all he expected from others.

Drake trusted his brain. His remaining fist dropped, and his head hung. Defeated.

"Good little thug isn't he?" Diana was beginning to return to her old self, although her voice still shook. It shook like the saw blade still in her grasp, making warping metal noises.