Opium eater

Docile

He was sitting on something. It was similar to bed only higher off the ground. He suspected it was a chair. But it was fixed down somehow preventing him from toppling over. He could not move. His hands were bound with manacles. Ones that harshly wrapped around his hands making them tender and sore. His feet weren't bound. He could still feel movement in them. But there was no use in moving his feet. Since that would not free him.

Ayota's sanity was dwindling. days of solitary confinement unable to move. He was blindfolded so he couldn't even see his surroundings. But he could hear wailing of fellow prisoners being tourtred. The sound provided some comfort, since it was confirmation that he was still alive. In a cruel world that was shared with other people.

But when the wailing stopped he panicked. because when it stopped there was the possibility that next it could be him. And this time he was right. A noise like tin being scrapped against concrete filled the room. He could hear footsteps closing in becoming closer. Then they stopped and his blindfold was removed.

The light almost blinded him. He had spent days in darkness. So the small dim light that feel on his face felt stronger than it usually would. Two men were standing at his side. One with a clown mask on covering his face, at his side, looking down intently. On the other side stood a man in a white coat, holding a hypodermic syringe filled with a silver liquid.

Even after his eyes were open he only gradually took in his surroundings. But his head was spinning since he hadn't had visual stimulus in days. in this room he felt like he was in a different world. He could smell something sweet from the man with the clown mask. He suspected that it was opium since he new that he'd been taken to a, thought to be, abandoned opium den.

He could tell just by looking at the boxes in this room. Most opium dens kept a supply of the drug in boxes or crates and other opium paraphernalia. Such as the opium pipes and lamps that were necessary to smoke the drug. Ayota had learned about it in mandatory ancient history.

He was so distracted by his surroundings that he almost forgot about the other two in the room with him. With the first blow to his elbow though, he soon remembered their presence. He jerked and screamed tugging at his manacles. Scaring his hands rubbing the skin making his wrist red raw.

Once the substance was injected he stopped. His mouth felt dry his throat felt warm. He felt feverish and faint. And the room was giving him an odd sensation. he had the impression of swimming, a sort of underwater world far beneath the real world. But he was still in the same room. Now he was on hallucinating. His captors had given him the privilege of being kept high.

'Good it worked' muffled the man with the clown mask.
The man in the white coat did not turn around. He did not look at the masked man either. he simply stared at the empty syringe in pleasure.

'How long until he is at his full potential?' He looked to the doctor there was no immediate reply.
The good doctor looked at Ayota. Ayota made no movement he had a wax face emotionless as a mask. And a plastered look that wasn't changing.

'Days maybe months. But you must train him before then or else you will suffer'
The masked man looked at Ayota. 'will he be dependent on the drug?'
'Of course, once you have a taste you become instantly addicted. That is the beauty of Feng'
'Well then let's train him'

The masked man un-did his manacles. Then using his pinky pushed lightly on the back of Ayota's head. Ayota crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. unresponsive, too limp and lifeless to be real. But the torture that came next was definitely real.

Six officers in black shirts with undecorated white masks. They beat him. At first it was only their fists but they soon became bored and used other more painful objects. stele rods, baseball bats and other brutal weapons. But they reverted to their boots. when Ayota was no longer under the influence of the drug he could feel the pain. Rolling about the floor shamelessly, like an animal, writhing to avoid simultaneous kicks. Which only encouraged more kicks to watch him squirm. he got kicked in the ribs, his belly on his elbows and other more painful places. Than after what seemed hours of hopeless torture they stopped.