Destroyer - The Death Cure (Book 3)

Chapter 22: Tourture

The doctor unceremoniously jabbed the needle anywhere. It stabbed through Minho's thin white pants, into his thigh. The liquid in the needle was burning hot. He felt it run through his body. This was new, a mystery concoction. And that scared him even more.

He could feel the tightness in his muscles beginning, like an ache. Like he ran too hard and too fast in the maze. The ache built slowly until he was uncomfortable. Minho tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but he was strapped down. The cuffs chaffing his already raw wrists. The guards had also strapped his legs down.

He winced. He grabbed the arm rests, gripping it tightly. The ache was getting worse. He had his eyes and jaw clamped shut. He tried to ignore everything. He tried to go into himself. Focusing on anything but the pain in his already aching body. He tried to bring up the memory and feelings of warmth and safety of his dreams. How Alex made him feel..what she looked like. The growing pain was making it hard to focus.

Janson pressed a button on a little remote. A screen popped up, flashing images of their time in the Glade and a few places in The Sanctuary, all video footage of Alex, but it was all different then he remembered. Or what he thought he remembered.

A low sound of pain escaped his clamped jaw. The pain was escalating. His body was now tensing and jerking with sharp pains. Minho was panting. The pain was bad.

For months he was tortured, but this was different, this was slow and deliberate. They weren't even using anything on his mind, just the pain and the TV. The doctor just stood there making notes. Janson stood beside him with a twisted smile. Janson was watching, waiting for the pain to escape his clamped jaw. Minho tried to stay quiet, keep the pain internal, he hated giving Janson the satisfaction of hearing him scream in pain.

"This is the same concoction we administratored to Alex when we found her to be... disobedient. We would test her pain tolerance. She was our super soilder after all, she was built to be a soilder with minimal pain. A hight tolerance to pain. We were lucky enough to test it on her about 3 times a week. She was very disobedient. Especially when it came to you." Janson said, he was relishing in this. He enjoyed watching people withering in pain, screaming for an end.

Minho's muscles were burning, the mystery concoction made it feel as if liquid fire flowed through his veins. He tried to crumple in on himself, to curl up, but he was strapped down, keeping him from moving. He strained against the restraints.

He let a groan and growl escape. His panting became heavy gasping. Minho felt tears running down his face, from the pain and the confusing video feed, and also what Janson just said...

They did this to Alex as punishment? They put her through this pain because of me? She was tortured when I came to me? But why..?

His head was thrashing back and forth. The pain built to a point where Minho's vision was spotty, that's all he could focus on, was the burning ache in his body. His growls of defiance turned into whimpers. The whimper rapidly turned into a broken yell of pain.

Through his panting and cries, he managed to spit words out, "make.it.stop."

"Too late Subject A7. It's already in your system." Janson whispered with glee.

Janson nodded at the doctor who picked up another injection of the metal trolley. This one was clear. Minho was too focused on the pain to notice the doctor approach cautiously. Minho's body was tense and straining, everything twitching and trying to thrash against the restraints. He didn't feel the sharp prick of another injection until it was too late.

"No. please..." he whimpered. "Not.." he gasped "again."

He felt the familiar shock in his mind. The electric sparking, the sharp splitting pain in his mind. With his eyes clamped shut he saw his memories of Alex flash. Her smile, her laugh, her red hair streaming behind her, her long eyelashes fluttering open, how her body moved with ease when she was fighting, her scowl when she stood up in the council room. Everything he could remember about her. But it was getting fuzzy, fog was clouding around her.

The bright vivid pictures behind his clamped eyelids turned to fog, it was harder and harder to grasp onto them, slipping through his fingers. All he could focus on was the intense burning pain in his mind and body.

Details of her weren't as sharp. Her beautiful red hair wasn't shinning in the sun, it was on fire...she had wild fire as hair. Her eyes weren't really Hazle and shinning anymore, they seemed dark and dangerous. Her bright airy laugh wasn't light and melodic, it was harsh and wild...

Was her hair really that red? Were her eyes green or brown? What was she fitting? Who was she yelling at? ...

"No" he whimpered. "Alex...help! Come back... please! Alex... Please!"

Who was she to me?...who was she? Who...is she?... She's a mut! She's a mutant .. she's twisted and evil! She's a mut of WICKED.

He finally gave in to the pain. He had to. His body could only take so much. He screamed.

With his mind full of breaking and a confused blurred image of someone who may have once possibly been important to him, only to turn out to possibly be a mut working for WICKED...He was alone at the mercy of a twisted evil man.

Minho let out a deep broken sob, and he let himself be taken away by the pain. He withered in pain and screamed.

The door flew open.

"JANSON! YOU SHUCKEN BLOODY DISEASE RIDDEN SEWER RAT! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

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** OH MA GOODNESS! WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN??? Brace yourselves my Shankests (and Shanks...) It's gonna be a fast paced bubby ride!

**Hunger game vibes anyone...?