Deception

Weeks: Physical

Stiles had no way out, he tried to move out the way but found he couldn't. The whip came flying down. It hit him square in the back with a loud CRACK. The pain was nothing like Stiles had ever experienced before, it was so sharp, digging it deep but so quick. He didn't even have time to scream. 

Then out of nowhere a foot came down smacking his face sideways, he couldn't stop himself from falling to the ground, the right side of his face burning. 

"Aren't you going to face me? Come on get up!" Fritz snapped, suddenly in his face, gripping his hair and using it to drag him to his feet. 

Before he had any time to react, the whip came cracking back down, it didn't miss its target, his face.

Stiles knew he'd never be able to put into the words the pain that had overwhelmed him then, he couldn't stop himself. He yelled out in agony, as blood ran down his face, like tears but not from his eyes. 

"Relax Mieczyslaw, you'll be able to heal yourself perfectly from this, once you are one of us" 

Thats not why I'm screaming Stiles wanted to shout but he was in to much agony to do so,

She raised her hand, a different ruin that was on her hand glowed red then it stopped, as soon as it did, without his doing, his own body was not his to control. It twisted in a unnatural, his arms being pulled behind his back then twisting  until if they went any further he knew they would break. 

His legs collapsed under him and his mouth open in a silent scream. 

Stiles wanted to beg, to plead for her to stop but nothing came from his mouth, he couldn't force the words into his mouth, as if they were trapped inside his body, raging to get out. 

Fritz was then by his side, grabbing on to his wrist, the same ruin glowed but this time a reddish blue. He watched in horror as his own skin under her finger tips reflected the mark, before it vanished, as if absorbed. 

Before he could ask what she did, the sorceress grabbed him by the hair then pulled his head down, he didn't know how it happened but suddenly he could not see but he could feel water where his face was, he coughed and spluttered, trying not to breath it in. He could still feel Fritz fingers there. 

Was she trying to drown him?!

Somehow in this agonised state Stiles managed to connect that the ruin that had shined blueish red must have something to do with what was going on now. 

Then everything changed. 

He was back in the basement, on the floor, choking and coughing. 

"Mmmm, nothing so far, I'll see you tomorrow" Fritz said, she was standing next to him then she walked away, closing the door behind her. 

Stiles stared after her then looked down at himself, there was blood dripping down from somewhere, he felt his back and his face, to his terror he could feel the opened wounds, deep and bloody. 

His arms ached especially, including his face.

But he also felt wet? Stiles felt his hair, shocked to realise that it was wet, like someone had dunged his head in a bucket of cold water, he shivered, feeling cold water trickle down his body. 

To Stiles horror he also found out, he could not sleep for more than two hours every day, after two hours he was woken by an image of Fritz dunking his head in water, it could have been a nasty day dream but every time he woke up he was freezing and wet, as if it had actually happened. 

But that wasn't the worst of it.... 

Every day Fritz would come.

And everyday she would torture him in the different reality. 

His food also changed, it did taste better but the amount they'd give him lessoned, often leaving him hungry. 

Stiles felt like he couldn't cope.

His wounds to his surprise despite being left open never got infected, never lost to much blood and despite the feel of water waking him every night and used to torture him, he never got ill from it. Stiles figured it must have something to do with the sorcerous world and Fritz had told him it also had to do with the energy or magic that often filled the air. 

He was always hungry. 

Barely slept. 

And every day he would find himself with new raw open bloody wounds from the agonising torture. 

Stiles had decided... 

This must be hell.