Red

Chapter 17

Nate

I lay, panting, on the table, breathing coming in ragged gasps through my nose. My whole body ached. The blindfold was stuck to my head with sweat and tears. Everything came as a surprise, making it all the more painful.

I felt something start to vibrate in my pocket. They'd forgotten about my phone! I prayed to God that they didn't hear it vibrate. I somehow managed to stretch my hand into my pocket and accept the call. I couldn't tell who was on the other end; I couldn't hear if they were talking or not.

It was when Adrian, the doctor or whatever who'd been torturing me for the past few hours, started cutting into me again and I started screaming, throat raw, that I really hope whoever was calling was someone I knew, like Mike or Clarissa, and not some stupid telemarketer.

A couple minutes later, still in extreme pain, Adrian, I'm assuming, my father hasn't moved in ages, tore the duct tape of my face, leaving a slight stinging sensation across my lips, painful, but nothing compared to what I've been enduring. I had the ability to form words now. I shouted the only things my tired, over stimulated brain could think.

"Please, please just stop, I can't take it anymore, PLEASE!"

And he did. I heard my father laughing over in his little corner, and I cringed away when he started to get closer. I didn't want him anywhere near me.

He grabbed my chin, the jarring movement sending a wave of pain through my already sore body. I winced when he started talking, venom in every word, especially the last.

"This is what you get. You deserve this. Embrace it, son."

I felt another vibration in my pocket, letting me know that whoever had called had just hung up. Unfortunately, my father was close enough this time to hear it.

He let go of my chin and stepped back. "What was that?" I yelped in surprise when the palm of his hand came in contact with my cheek in one, fluid motion, leaving behind a stinging pain.

"Answer me!"

"I-I-I-I d-d-don't kn-kn-kn-know."

I didn't even recognize my own voice. It was coarse and gravelly, raw from screaming for hours.

"Liar," he snarled. "You're lying."

He was silent for a long time, and I started to shift around. I was really scared. The blindfold made it impossible to tell what was going to happen next.

It was when he placed a hand over the word on my chest that I knew he was going to try and force it out of me.

He pressed down slightly, and my chest started to burn. "Tell me what that was."

I stayed silent, refusing, to let him overpower me, but I was already weak. We both knew I wouldn't last long, but I was going to hold out as long as I could.

My father pressed harder onto my wound. The burning feeling grew till it felt like a small fire, but still, I remained silent. It was getting more difficult to not make a sound, though.
"I'm not going to ask you again, Nathan." He leaned completely onto the hand placed on my chest, putting most of his weight on it. I cried out, unable to keep silent any longer. "What was that noise?"

"My phone, my phone, it was my phone!

I cried out again as he put even more pressure onto my wound, making me feel like my chest was the source of an inferno, the burning pain spreading to all parts of my body.

"And where is your phone?"

I hissed in pain, but didn't say anything. A moment later, though, I was screaming as my father leaned all of his weight onto me.

"My pocket, it's in my pocket, just please stop!"

The pressure was lifted immediately and I was able to breathe again. The burning pain gradually faded away until it was a bearable tingling feeling as he reached into my pocket and removed my phone. I heard him tap on the screen a couple times before he made a curious noise.

"Mike? Who's Mike?"

Oh, thank God. Mike's probably trying to track me down as we speak.

I yelped when I was snapped out of my thoughts by my father back-handing me.

"Answer the question, Nathan."

"J-j-j-just a-a fr-frie-friend."

"You're lying again."

"N-n-no! I sw-sw-swear I-I'm n-not!"

I didn't need to see to tell my father was staring at me, trying to tell if I was, in fact, telling the truth. His gaze burned holes into me, seeing straight to my soul.

"Adrian, hand me the syringe."

I heard a bunch of muffled clinking before hurried footsteps. I'd forgotten the doctor was here.

I yelped again when the needle was jabbed into my neck. I immediately felt sleepy, my eyes closing behind the blindfold. I didn't even try to fight it. In a matter of seconds, I was fast asleep.