⚠️ Trigger Warning ⚠️
Torture
Peter's POV
A new location, yet nothing had changed.
We had moved do a different warehouse just an hour after the "punishment". Apparently, Natasha Romanoff was spotted, and there was proof that someone had been crawling around in the vents. Clint had immediately popped into my head. It was sorta his thing.
I wasn't awake when we moved. Something in the food was probably drugged because just seconds after eating it, I was out cold. When I woke up, I was in a similar sort of cell. It was a bit smaller, but that didn't really matter considering I had lost about 20 pounds and now looked like a stick. I was still claustrophobic from when Vulture dropped a warehouse on me, but the room was large enough not to trigger a panic attack.
That was maybe a week ago? Time wasn't what it used to be.
I may have been emotionally numb, but that didn't mean physical pain was nothing. Every day that passed was exhausting. I was whipped, cut, burned, electrocuted, drowned, even suffocated. But the thing that bothered me so much, was that they had stopped doing anything to my back.
For a couple days after going to the other room for my punishment, I didn't get any food. I had eaten the one meal from that day, but that was it. I also was forced to use a special ointment that was causing the cuts to scar.
I hadn't seen what had been "carved" on my back, but I could tell it wasn't anything good just from the tone of voice Douglas used when he mentioned it. He never talked for long, just enough to slowly drive me insane.
Each day brought new, fresh horrors. New scars. I stopped hoping for rescue, and I stopped feeling. I didn't cry, I didn't pray, I didn't fight back, and most importantly, I didn't want to live. I had never been a suicidal person, and I still wasn't, but something about this place just made me want to end everything. Get rid of the pain. I hoped they would just kill me soon.
At the new building, there were some new "rules" in place. Bad rules. Rules that were made to be broken. Rules that when broken, resulted in cruel, merciless, painful punishment. I slowly went over the rules in my head, as I sat in my dark cell.
No speaking unless asked a question or instructed otherwise.
No eye contact.
No resistance of any kind.
No moving unless instructed, or alone in your cell.
No escape.
Would I even want to escape? Of course! At the beginning at least. Now, I knew that an attempted escape was basically asking for the worst, most cruel pain you could think of. Pain that would never escape my memory as long as I lived.
When the rules were first set, they had an assigned punishment for each one.
No speaking unless asked a question or instructed otherwise. - Words spoken carved 10 times into skin
No eye contact. - Whip
No resistance of any kind. - Burns or electricity
No moving unless instructed, or alone in your cell. - Drowning
No escape. - EVERYTHING
Douglas had also taken it upon himself to go through all the punishments when the rules were set. Each day, there was a new punishment to try. Day one was the cuts, day two the whip, then burns and electricity, then drowning. Day five had by far been the worst. They did everything. All in the same day. Still, my back remained unscathed.
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Begging
FanfictionPain. That was all he knew now. Peter Parker had gotten over the fact that he would never be normal. The whole accords situation, vulture. It was all too much and had started to get to him. Peter got to stay in Avengers tower, and would go on the OC...
