The Test

Chapter Nine

Layna

    The front door slammingdownstairs woke me from the small nap I had managed to take, giving me mereseconds to prepare before I heard Brian's heavy footsteps on the stairs. I knewthat he was going subject me to another one of his demented ideas, but I wasn'tsure which fear he would target next. The door to the room he was keeping me inwas pushed open with such force that it slammed against the wall, causing it toshake.     

He stalked over to me, and started methodically unshackling me, all the while muttering under his breathe. There was a fresh bruise under his eye, and I briefly wondered how he got it.

"Stupid police, and stupid FBI ruining my plans. They can't stop me, and they can't stop you, daddy." He said, tossing the now vacated chains to the corner and hoisting me over his shoulder. "It's time for your next test, sweet Layna."

I didn't try to struggle; I needed to save my energy for later, in case I had a chance to run for it.

He took me done to the basement, and slammed me down on a metal table. My head cracked on the steel, and I saw stars.

When my vision finally cleared, I took a good look around. I was in a large room, which reminded me of the morgues on many crime shows. The walls had once been white, but now they were stained and chipping in many places. There was one giant fluorescent light over me, reminding me a bit of a spotlight, and one wall had a shelf built on it, filled with medical supplies.

The table that Brian had put me down was shaped as a cross. He strapped my arms down on the protruding pieces, so that the undersides were exposed.

He then proceeded to strap down my legs and midsection with thick leather straps so tightly so that I couldn't move a muscle.

When he got to my head, he strapped it down so I was facing my right arm, and then he put two pieces of tape on my eyes to hold my eyelids open. I wasn't able to blink, and my eyes started to burn almost immediately.

Brian moved to the shelve and started rummaging around. He picked up a plastic bin, and started throwing supplies into it.

"Remember the time you told me you hated needles?" he asked me, coming over to where I lay, and resting the bin on my stomach. "You made me come to the doctor's office with you, to hold your hand, because you were afraid."

I stayed quiet and watched as he pulled out a large syringe from the bin. "To be afraid is to be weak, and we can't have that."

Brian jabbed the needle into my arm as hard as he could, and I screamed as I felt it scratch my bone. "I wanted to see you scream like that from when the doctor gave you that needle."

He yanked it out, and then jammed it back in as I watched. Blood spurted out from the first wound, and Brian dabbed his finger in it, bringing it to his mouth. I watched in horror as he sucked the finger clean.

Brian smiled. "Again," he whispered, pulling out another needle from the bin, and stabbed it into my arm, beside the one that was currently sticking out of my skin.

I screamed, and Brian smacked me across the face. "You can't be scared anymore!" he yelled, jabbing another one into my arm.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I couldn't help it; I screamed again. Brian growled and stuck another one in.

And then another.

And another.

Until there were at least fifteen needles sticking out of my arm, and my voice had grown hoarse from screaming. As Brian jabbed in the sixteenth, I only flinched as the pain spiraled up my arm.