A Chicago PD Au fanfiction | Hollow

Thirtynine

I think it's very impolite of him that he hasn't introduced himself to me. He knows my name for sure, so why can't he give me his? Honestly it doesn't need to be his real name, I just need something to call him. I might call him James, since he looked like James Bond when I first met him.

'James' walk a lap around me, taking long slow steps. I don't understand what he means with it, does he want me to feel threatened or like I'm in disadvantage? I have no idea.

"I'm gonna' give you one last chance to give me the code, or I'll let these two push it out of you" he say.

There's one slight problem, but I would only call it slight. Kidding, it's an enormous problem in cosmic size, at least for my part.

I don't have the code, I have no idea what it might be, I don't even know where to use it.

I'm screwed.

I'm going to die.

Or worse, he's not going to believe that I don't have it so he's going to torture and then kill me.

Or is it going to be that bad? I don't know because I haven't tried before and I wouldn't want to try if I had the choice but I guess that decision doesn't lay in my hands today.

The only thing I have to do is to bare out the pain until Voight and the others come here to get me, that's my only way out.

I don't answer him, I only reply with raising my eyebrows to show that I heard him but chose not to answer.

"Well, it's your choice" he say and takes a few steps back where he sit down on a chair.

His two men walk to a water pipe and fill a bucket with water. One of them carry the bucket and place it in front of me and the other goes to the end of the chain and let me down to my knees.

My head is pulled back and a white towel is placed over my face, it smells new. Then the water comes. I'm determined to resist the tempting feeling to breathe, I hold my breath for a while but eventually I have to breathe, as in exhale and as you might expect inhale in turn. The inhalation brings the damp cloth tight against my nostrils, as if a huge, wet paw is clamped over my face. Unable to determine whether I'm breathing in or out I'm staring to realize this is the end, but as I thought that, the water stopped and the grip of my head is gone. My head swing right back up to cough up as much water as possible.

But short moments later my head is pulled back and the water comes again.

My head is pounding, every cell in my body is screaming for oxygen. I keep fighting until I feel like my head is about to explode again, I have to take a breath. So I do, my mouth fills with water again and it feels like something is going to pop out of me.

And so it goes, over and over again, until I've lost count of how many times, and then a few times more.

He search for something in his back pocket, and soon he pick up a knife from behind. He weighs the knife in his hand. It's not heavier then a kitchen blade but it would cut on first contact, even with minimum pressure. Cal use the knife to put my hair behind my ear, revealing the bruises from the rock and  small wounds from the pieces of glass splitter. He smiles.