Give Me Love

Chapter 1.

Hello!
This is my first attempt to write a story. I apologize for any mistakes which is totally expected due to this unedited version. Let me know what you think!
Warning: might have disturbing imagery and torture methods. It will get worse, I promise.

Megan inched closer to the machine. It was a large one, with sharpen edges and a platinum suit covered the interior filled with painful deaths. She glanced at the side mirror, shuddered slightly at the stage she was put into.
The prominent shadow beneath her eyes indicated many sleepless nights. Her pink lips were now an ugly purple coated with the scarlet red of her dried blood. She combed her fingers gently into her black hair, feeling the knots halting her movement.
She shifted away, laughing silently of how defeated she seemed to be.
"Maybe I should kill myself tonight." She lifted the knife experimentally. She placed it down on the table and chuckled.
"But that wouldn't be as fun."
Megan walked to the machine again, tracing the outline of the delicate letter that was carved skillfully onto the platinum surface.
'Mortem, 1961.'
She tilted her head slightly to learn the name. Mortem, or death in Latin, was certainly a perfect name for it. The gadget screamed dangerous, which was something she thrilled for.
When she was seven, her attention was unsettling. She liked cutting fleshes of animals, but she masked it with a faux interest in cooking. She didn't enjoy culinary, just the mere joy of dismember another living thing. She felt powerful, having a helpless creature's life wrapped around her little hand.
So simple, so easy.
She grew up in a neighborhood that was populated by drug dealers, prostitutes and any illegal workers. She had seen people being killed many times, with knives, guns or being beaten up to death. She remembered crying at her first encounter with a dead body so misshaped she almost took it as trash littered on the perpetually dirty streets.
Her family couldn't afford to live in a better place, leaving her struggling to protect herself. Her father eventually became a drunken mess. He cheated with the women in within the walking range from their dirty house at the rear of the street. He cut her body with a hunting knife and drowned her in animal blood, along with the help of her equally violent mother. They were meant to be, she thought while running out of the street in a winter night with only a pair of torn jeans and a thick fur coat she got for her birthday from her aunt.
So much for a happy family.
She examined the room and noticed a table at the corner, hiding in the darkness of shadow. She picked up a beautiful brown leather notebook and turned to the first page.

October 25, 1998

1. Physical stimulation. Ignited pain over the nerve system with increasing speed until the subject's body stops responding physically to the signals of environment. Eyes remained open and ears alert for visual and audio experiments.

2. Mental stimulation. 3 hours of continuous bright colors moving in fast pace in a geometric cycle. Background music of off-key violins. After the intensity of senses attack, slowed things down with neutral color and soft music to sooth the subject.

Purpose: to find the breaking point of ones endurance to environmental changes without physical responses. The subject can only communicating within themselves in their mind and therefore reach a spiritual connection within individual, hopefully to the extent of dimensional beings.
"It's pointless to prepare yourself." A voice echoed in the cold, spotless room.
She turned around with a smirk. Slowly, she flickered her eyes to another page and read aloud.
"Subject might experience mental disorder afterward."
"Correct." He answered calmly.
"Brain will failed to function at certain department."
"Mental stability will more likely be affected. Physical activities are simpler to revive."
She closed the leather bound over the papers, eyes training on him with interests. He stared back at her, unfazed by her boldness.
"What if I tell you that I don't want to do this, and I want to retrieve?"
"You want to do this, according to your pupils. They expand slightly when reading the information, but not wide enough to indicate fear or surprise. Your eyes scanned with manner and time, telling me that you're rather intrigued by the proposal and are making an effort in comprehending what I'm about to do with you."
"Fear can be deceiving. Everything you've just told me can easily be the symptoms of fear."
"That, I disagree. Fear is one of the easiest emotion that can be detected from a human being."
"And why is that?"
"Do you want to back out?"
Her lips curved into a haunting smile, but said nothing.
"I'll take that as a no."
He turned the table lamp on. The light illuminated part of his dark feature. A pair of sharp gray eyes that seemed to pierce through everything with a glint of warning. She was entranced with his masculine features and adverted her eyes from his to the dark hair that crowned his head and stubble chin that looked marvelous without any effort.
She wished he didn't want her emotional game, but rather a game of two love sick fools testing the water of deepened desires.
"Those are too easy to acknowledge, don't you think? I think a guy like you should know more than those advance facts." She tried to change the subject, not wanting to think about being in his muscled arms and burning touch.
"It wouldn't be fun if I tell you everything."
Detras grasped the door knob and was planning to leave for a perfectly calculated rest. The project he was going to perform on her needed observation. He was required to have alerted senses to be able to awaken hers.
He recalled the first time they met, on a scorching hot day of May. He had been mesmerized by her outstanding beauty. Her eyes were a light shade of blue that almost shine into silver. Her dark hair long and silky, cascading down her delicate shaped shoulder. Her lips were slightly parted from the heat, sweat grazed over the nape of her neck and her throat.
  Oh, how badly he had wanted to kiss her.
He stopped to wait for her to question him.
"What exactly is 'everything'?
So predictable, my dear Megan.
"That is the only thing I can't tell you."
He left the room.