Fear (Book One of Fear Series)

Chapter 15: The Torture

I woke up strapped to a vertical table in the middle of what looked like an operating room in a hospital. I tried to move, but the pain came flooding back. I tried to get my hands free from the leather straps binding my arms to the table, but my broken wrist was untreated and swollen. I couldn’t move it without causing huge amounts of extra pain. My ankles were also strapped to the table, but there was no way I could even move my left leg due to my shattered kneecap.

“Well, look who’s awake.” Andrew walked to my side. He was still smiling.

“What happened to you?” I choked through my tears and gritted teeth.

“Nothing. I just hid who I really am for a year and a half.”

“You’re insane,” I spat.

“Funny,” Andrew pouted and scratched his chin sarcastically. “You said that to me the first day we met. I guess we’re back to the beginning.”

“Yeah, it’s hilarious.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Andrew smirked and turned to a table on the other side of the room.

  A Terror was standing guard in the back. It stared at me with its liquidized black eyes and smiled. There was too much smiling going around; I didn’t like it.

“Now, let’s get started, shall we?”

I turned to look back at Andrew. He held a huge syringe filled with glowing red liquid. He walked toward me, then stopped. He turned to the Terror.

“Go tell Mantha that she’s awake and I’m starting the torturing process, starting with the fire serum. I’ve got it covered from here.”

“Yes, sir.” The Terror walked out the door. It slammed shut behind the robed figure.

  Andrew and I were alone.

“So, is this really who you are?” I asked.

Andrew laughed again. “Do you really still think that I’m the Andrew you thought you knew?”

“I’m hoping so.”

“You’re hope is in vain then. This is who I am.” Andrew walked toward me. “Now, do you know what this will do to you?”

  He lifted the syringe. I shook my head.

  “This will make everything inside you feel like it’s burning with hellfire. Then it will travel to your heart and literally tie it in a knot. Then it will release your heart and you’ll regurgitate it all up. It will completely leave your system, but you’ll feel like your whole body is as raw as a plucked chicken. We’ll wait for a few minutes and then repeat the process until you’re right at the brink of death. Then we’ll move on to something else.”

“Well, that sounds fun,” I said weakly.

“Oh, and it also makes you unable to pass out so that you feel every little bit of it.”

“Awesome.”

“So, again, let’s get started.”

Andrew put his hand on my arm that had the broken wrist and felt for a vein in the bend of my elbow. I was in so much pain already that I could barely fight against him.

  He inserted the needle into my arm and the liquid started to run through my veins. I began to scream.

  It felt exactly like how he had described. I’d never been in so much pain in my entire life combined. The liquid charged through my blood stream, burning like nothing I’d never felt before.

  This is what hell feels like, I thought.

  I felt the burning creep toward my heart. I was screaming louder and harder than ever. I jerked forward as my heart convulsed inside of my chest. I felt like I was being ripped to shreds. I barely heard Andrew’s insane laughter over my screams of agony. I vomited all over myself and a significant amount of blood dripped from my mouth.

“C’mon, Zoe, you heard Mantha. ‘Don’t bleed on my floor.’” He laughed and smacked me across the face. It felt like nothing compared to what I was feeling everywhere else in my body.

  I felt completely raw; like my insides had all been turned inside out then back again ten times.

“So how do you feel?” Andrew taunted.

  He pulled my hair up so that he could look into my eyes. I spat in his face, my saliva mixed with blood. He let my hair go and my chin fell to my chest.

  His fist plunged into my stomach. I pitched forward and vomited again. I coughed up more blood. I closed my eyes and realized that the strap binding my good leg to the table had come undone in my convulsing.

  I lifted my head slightly and saw that Andrew was refilling the syringe. A plan began to form in my mind. It was crazy, but it was my only chance.

“Ready for the next one?” Andrew asked. “Let’s have some more fun, shall we.”

“Bring it on.”

“Feisty, now are we?” He moved toward me with the syringe ready. “You know, this is the worst form of torture in the known universe.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Oh, really now? Should I up your dosage so that you can feel it more?”

“No need. It’s just that. . .sometimes memories are the worst kind of torture.”

“Well, we’ll see how you feel about that after round two.”