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Damaged – Ch. 19

Warnings: For this chapter, physical torture and implied rape, past and present, nothing graphic or explicit, but if that sort of thing bothers you, please proceed with caution.


Mark stepped over to the cart and began looking through the assortment of horror movie props – old bone-saws, scalpels, pliers, and glass syringes. He picked up the electrodes from the shock therapy equipment, considering the small metal terminals and brittle, old cord. After a moment, he yanked each of the terminals free, letting them drop to the floor. Reese watched, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as Mark began stripping back the cracked plastic sheath covering the wires. After baring a few inches on each side, he picked something else up off the cart.

“Do you know what this is, John?” Mark asked, holding the implement up for him to see. It was long and slender, about ten inches in length with a tapering point at one end and a flat sort of grip at the other, making it look like an oversized nail viewed from the side. Reese didn’t know and he couldn’t think of a smart-assed response, so he said nothing. Mark smirked at his silence. “It’s an orbitoclast, used to perform transorbital lobotomies. Instead of drilling a hole in the patient’s skull, this little beauty was hammered in through the eye socket and then wiggled around to sever the frontal lobe from the rest of the brain. But I’ve just thought of a much better use for it.”

He took one side of the wire and wrapped it around the handle of the orbitoclast, then picked up a second one and wrapped the other side of the wire around it. He plugged the machine into the wall and Reese held his breath, every muscle in his body taut as a piano wire as Mark began pushing buttons and flipping switches. The machine began to hum, like a hive of angry, electric bees, and Mark wheeled the cart closer.

“Last chance, John, and then things are going to get unpleasant. What do you and your friend do?”

“We go out to dinner sometimes,” Reese said, clinging to his defiance in the face of the fear of the coursed through him, making him tremble inside. “Long walks in the park, lazy Sunday mornings reading the paper, that sort of thing.”

Mark didn’t respond, except to pick up one of the orbitoclasts and place the extremely pointed tip against Reese’s upper arm. Reese tensed, gritting his teeth and clearing his mind, trying to find a memory, a moment he could escape to, searching for an emotion strong enough to tether him, to make the memory real. He thought of Finch, scared and helpless, shaking like a leaf in Reese’s arms as they stood in the shower, he remembered the protective fire that burned within him, fueled by anger and tempered with love. He loved him, enough to die for him, just as Finch had been willing to die for Reese-

Pain crashed against the walls of his mental haven, like waves pounding the rocks at the edge of a storm-tossed sea. He drew short, hissing breaths as Mark drove the pointed implement into his flesh, using a small, rubber mallet to hammer the orbitoclast down along his left biceps, a quarter of an inch beneath his skin. Each tap of the hammer sank it half an inch farther, the muscles burning, screaming as they clenched around the foreign object-

Reese focused on Finch, on the way he felt, on the way he smelled, on the noises he made as they lay together in bed, Finch’s hands moving over his skin, Finch’s lips surprisingly agile and determined. Finch had wanted him. He’d seen the darkness that hid inside Reese, he knew the evil things that he’d done, and he still wanted him-

He choked back a scream as the point of the second orbitoclast was shoved beneath his skin, this time on the back of his arm, the mallet making a sickening thud…thud…thud sound as it struck the broad end of the surgical tool, jarring his whole body as the pointed implement sank deeper into his flesh-

Finch. Harold. Reese found himself struggling to remain disconnected from his body. His feelings for Finch weren’t enough anymore, they were too new, and too little acted upon. Fuck, why hadn’t he made love to Finch when he had the chance? He remembered standing in the shower with Finch just before he’d stormed out, anger and frustration rattling within him. He’d felt so…helpless, because there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say, to make Finch believe him. He grabbed on to that anger, held it tight, and wrapped himself in it like a protective barrier against the pain-

Reese screamed, his body instinctively trying to jerk away from the cold, electric fire that exploded beneath his skin, the muscles in his upper arm clenching, knotting, fraying, burning-

It stopped. Reese slumped in the chair, gasping for breath and choking on his own spit. His arm continued to ache and throb, the muscles jumping, twitching beneath his skin.

“That was the lowest setting,” Mark said, sounding quite pleased with himself. “Ready to talk now?”

“I’m going to cut off your balls and make you eat them,” Reese replied, his voice hoarse and ragged. Mark flipped the switch again and Reese’s scream filled the room, his body twisting, straining against the restraints. When Mark turned the electricity off again, Reese drew a rattling breath and sobbed. His fingers were cold and tingling, a sign of nerve damage, probably.

“Smells like somebody’s barbecuing pork ribs,” Mark said and Reese grunted in pain as he pulled the two orbitoclasts free, only a small trickle of blood welling up from the two puncture wounds.

“Giving up al- already?” Reese panted. “You always were a quitter, Mark.”

“Don’t you wish,” Mark said, laying the bloody spikes on the cart and picking up an old scalpel. He cut through the fabric of Reese’s trousers, ripping one leg off from mid-thigh down. Then he picked up one of the orbitoclasts and Reese had to fight the urge to throw up.

Teeth clenched until his jaw ached, he bore the pain in silence as Mark positioned the two spikes, one in the inside of his thigh from just above his knee to just before his groin, the other down the inside of his calf, but as soon as Mark flipped that switch, he couldn’t stop the scream that ripped from his throat. The pain, the blue-white fire that crackled beneath his skin, made his sixteen hours in that cave seem like a fond memory.

When it finally stopped, Reese gasped, choked, and vomited, coffee and bile splattering across the floor and running down his chest. It took a moment to realize that he’d lost control of his bladder as well.

Without warning, Mark turned the machine back on. Reese screamed and writhed, the urine soaking the crotch of his trousers and puddled beneath him in the seat of the chair conducted the electricity straight to his balls and ass, the pain unimaginable.

Mark flipped the switch and Reese went limp, sobbing and gagging as a black cloud descended upon him, making him light-headed and tempting him with promises of sweet oblivion. A sharp slap across the face made him draw a rasping breath and he blinked, looking up at Mark.

“I told you I’d keep you awake.”

Reese’s lip had started bleeding again, his whole body twitching and shaking, his heart racing. When he was able, he took a deep, shuddering breath and spat, blood, bile, and spit flecking Mark’s white shirt.

“Fuck you,” Reese grated out, his voice like gravel being ground underfoot.

Mark started to reach for the switch again and Reese tensed, but then the CIA agent let his hand fall back to his side. “You’re tough, John, I’ll give you that. It’s what made you such a fine agent, but you can be dumber than shit sometimes. What is so fucking important; what could possibly be worth this?”

“Something you could never understand, you soulless son-of-a-bitch.”

“I see,” Mark said, and he stood there, regarding Reese for a long moment. Finally, he turned back to the cart and picked up a small, leather case that looked brand-new. “I was hoping I’d get to use this,” he said, unzipping the case to reveal a small, modern glass vial of a clear liquid and a slender hypodermic needle. “The side-effects can be unpredictable, so I was advised to keep it as a measure of last resort, but it looks like you leave me with no choice.”

Reese watched, his mouth dry and gummy, as Mark pierced the safety seal of the vial and drew several CCs of liquid into the syringe. “You know that’s not going to work,” Reese rasped. “I got the same training you did on how to resist the effects of LSD, MDMA, sodium pentothal-”

Mark chuckled. “This shit makes those look as effective as tic-tacs.” He stepped over beside Reese and shoved his head to one side, exposing the side of his neck. Reese fought against him, but couldn’t avoid the sharp sting of the needle being jabbed into his artery and the cold burn of the drug being injected into his bloodstream.

“What’s it going to do to me?” Reese asked as Mark stepped back and dropped the syringe on the cart beside the vial.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Mark said. “While we wait for it to take effect, I’ve got a score to settle with you.” He pulled the orbitoclast out of Reese’s calf and wiped the blood on Reese’s pants before working the stainless steel implement down between Reese’s thighs and pressing the length of it against his crotch. “My balls still hurt,” Mark snarled, then stepped back and flipped the switch.

Reese bucked so violently the chair almost tipped over, his hoarse scream echoing from the walls before fraying down to a thin, reedy whistle, and then everything went mercifully black.

He was slapped awake only a few moments later, his body aching, muscles racked with spasms, and his breathing labored. Mark released the handful of hair he’d been using to hold Reese’s head still, and Reese could only sit there with a growing feeling alarm as his head flopped forward, his chin against his chest. He tried to lift it, but could only manage a slight rocking motion from side to side, and after a moment, even that was too hard.

Mark’s hand cupped his chin and raised his head, a smug smirk on the narrow face. “Figure out what that drug does yet?” he asked. He let go of Reese’s chin, letting his head drop, his chin hitting his chest hard enough to make his teeth clack together. Mark pulled the remaining orbitoclast out of Reese’s thigh, then dropped them on the cart. He pushed the chair over beside the bed, then proceeded to unfasten the straps that held Reese down. Once the straps were tossed aside, Mark pulled out his keys and unlocked the handcuffs.

“There you go, John,” he said. “You’re free to go. Just get up and walk out. What’s the matter?” he asked when Reese didn’t- couldn’t move. Then Mark laughed. “Got nothing witty to say now, do you?” Slowly, Reese’s ass was sliding forward on the seat, his body slouching lower in the chair, threatening to spill him onto the floor. Mark grabbed him before he could fall, one hand at his collar, the other gripping the back of his belt, and Mark heaved him onto the bed, face-down on the mattress. It stank of urine and mildew, the scratchy cloth pressing against his mouth and nose, smothering him.

“Don’t want you to pass out from lack of oxygen,” Mark said, turning his head to the side so he could breathe. “I want you fully conscious for this. That’s the beauty of this drug – you can’t move a muscle, but you’ll be able to feel everything.”

No more, no more, no more! shouted a voice inside his head that sounded alarmingly like his own, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t have talked if he’d wanted to. What purpose was there in torturing him if he couldn’t break? What good was this drug if it prevented him from giving up the information?

Mark reached beneath him and unbuckled his belt, his hands fumbling with the button and zipper. He made a disgusted sound. “You really made a mess of yourself, John. Piss everywhere. Didn’t you ever learn not to wet your pants?” He grabbed Reese’s slacks and jerked them down around his knees, then worked down the wet boxer-briefs. “And look at that, you twisted bastard – you came. You got off on this. Did you like the way it felt with the electricity coursing through your cock and balls? You must have, you nearly filled your underwear. See?”

Reese mentally recoiled as Mark smeared the cold, thick slime down his cheek and over his lips, but he was helpless to do anything about it.

“I bet right about now you’re wondering what the purpose of this is, since you can’t talk,” Mark said, moving the chair aside and stepping back where Reese could see him. “Talking will come later. It’s one of the side-effects as the drug wears off. And no, you won’t be able to fight it. But until then…” Reese watched, horrified, as Mark unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly, pulling out his cock and stroking it to hardness. “It’s going to be just like old times.”

I don’t remember-

“Oh, you don’t remember me fucking you?” Mark asked with a smirk. “I’m sure you remember waking up hung-over after celebrating the end of nearly every mission we worked together. You were so innocent and trusting back then, it wasn’t even a challenge to slip a little something special in your drink.”

Reese felt like he was going to be sick, but his unresponsive body wouldn’t even let him throw up. Mark stepped closer, still stroking himself, and the bedsprings groaned as he climbed on, straddling Reese’s legs. “Now John, you’ll let me know if I get too rough, won’t you?” Mark asked, his cold, heartless laugh echoing inside Reese’s head and mingling with his own screams.

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  1. Alexa Ray permalink

    No! No! No! You can’t leave me here! Ahhhh! I hate cliffhangers!… More soon, please?
    And, in case you couldn’t tell, you have me literally on the edge of my seat. This is wonderful.

    • I’m terrible when it comes to cliffhangers. I don’t know why, but that’s just how my mind wants to end nearly every chapter. Thanks! I’m glad you’re enjoying the story. The next chapter won’t be until late Saturday/early Sunday.
      Thanks for commenting! ^_^

  2. I saw your note on FF.Net about how hard this chapter was to write and how you weren’t sure you should. I just want you to know that I’m glad you did. It was hard to read….but some of the best works of fiction that I’ve experienced have been when an author pulls me out of my comfort zone. Thank you for having the wherewithal to write this. It was a very good chapter and ramped up the intensity of the plot nicely. And yes….I do hate Mark Snow even more. I hope you have a suitable comeuppance planned for him. Vindictive Finch could be interesting….

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