Bad Blood

Chapter; Waterboarding

Italics - present
Normal - flashback/memory

There it was again; depression. Something that irked me so much so, that I turned to punching walls and distancing myself from the ones who love me. I wouldn't have had this... this disease, if I didn't lay out my trust to someone who was greedy and never loved me. To people I thought would take a bullet for me. I was deeply wrong.

I wanted to scratch at my organs and rearrange them, so that they were out my body and I wouldn't be breathing anymore. So I wouldn't have to feel so worthless... so numb. It took me weeks to control my heightened emotions, I'll have to bite down forcefully onto my bottom lip, tasting the warm metallic of my blood every time my eyes would prick with unwanted tears. I hated the feeling, I hated the way I was living.

***

I was pulled out the water, two pairs of hand pull my wet figure from the freezing liquid from either side of my forearms. Aggressively, they dug their beefy fingers into my skin, I felt my heartbeat skip when I was slowly losing feeling in both my arms.

My throat emerged with a shell-shocking scream. My heart was beating against my chest, if I place my stiff hand over it, I would feel the strong, unsteady pumps of my heartbeat. I'm scared, and broken.

The ashy-blond male, clad in dark blue - Damon, he had uttered his name to me, his eyes never leaving my skin which would have been pinched between his fingers as he would have inserted the needle slowly - before I was forced into the cool water - another day of torture. Almost enjoying the way my eyes had screwed shut in fear from the skinny metal clasped between his slender fingers -he gave me a bored look, this was a daily occurrence for him; with me. A continuance cycle as he would stick a needle into my neck, the serum he pierced me with would make me feel drowsy and hard for me to fight off any intruders - leaving me limp in the metal chair before I would have been dunked.

His sleeveless arms were marked with ink, the black of the ink and honey texture of his skin was a large contrast which, oddly mixed well with each other. It made his hair shine and his eyes more smouldering.

"You'll be dead by the end of the year... if you can't have a needle near you, you won't be trusted with a gun" he looked distasteful, his nose scrunched at his observation of me. But, he sounds casual - which I'm scared of, everyone here speaks so freely of death and guns. Something, I was always shamed for even thinking.

Suddenly I'm aware that I had shown emotion so thoroughly. This is what they hated about me, i was quick to show emotion - like a predator leaping to its prey. I was a easy target to get their grim hands on. Something to toy with and brainwash. Something so average and have nowhere else to go, to control and manipulate.

"No" I say. "I won't die"
Damon studies me for a few moments, then bites down onto his teeth, his jaw clenched at the movement - he motions for the two men who had their hands on me to let go - I silently thanked Damon, for I didn't have to listen to their heavy laboured breath so close to my clogged ears. "congratulations, your pride will be the first to go down in the battlefield"

I roll my eyes, his mockery was nothing to me. It made Damon more approachable if anything. But, sometimes his mockery did feel like smack to the face, it hurt. A numb ache would spread across my chest at his words. I didn't know if he meant it or not.

"You don't know me on the battlefield, Damon." I say. Rising up and stepping away from the table of needles that makes a shutter of displeasure run down the back of my spine, my hair was wet from being dunked into the water and my head felt heavy, from still being fogged with the drugs. I need to take it slow for a few hours.

"I don't need too, you're weak and need more training than you think if you want to fight off the bad guys."

"No need to rub it in" Damon's mouth twitches slightly at my disgruntled expression. His eyes still seemed distant though - a type of distant of a man who had lied. And he did, he was the bad guy. Not them, they never where. "I'm not, you just need to reminded of your flaws so you don't become egoistic"

I knew deep down under the whole 'menacing' and 'quiet' exterior, he was somewhat fond of me. Even if he did come off as rude to others and malicious when asked personal questions. But, that's how he was, a closed off person who had been hurt one to many times.

"I knew you where fond of me, D" I whispered out the nickname, that I have never uttered to him before. I wasn't sure if he considered me a friend. So, calling him by a nickname would be a no go, sadly.

He probably had heard me but didn't bother to acknowledge my words. He turns and walks a couple of sets away from me. He sat in front of a large glass screen, the blue from the words and pictures reflecting off the screen makes the outlines of his body glow a dull light blue.

I nod at his back and start toward the door. I couldn't bare the needles any longer. But, before I left, his hands grabbed a hold around my elbow, locking me in place. "Don't ever, and I mean ever give me a nickname again" he says. For some reason, theres was a slight wild look in his eyes. Some sort of confusion also laced in his eyes. But, why was he so defensive over a nickname? "You're not my friend, you're just a girl that just so happens to be part of the organisation. you're nothing to me."

I opened the door and walked out, my jaw clenched at his hurtful words. He was an asshole, always have been and always will be.