The days blurred into one another after that. I got at least one visit every day, from either the Sergeant or his son. They were trying to break into my mind, in order to break the bond between Max and I.

At first, Sean had continued with his plan to attempt to have sex with me, trying to get close. But whenever he would physically touch me, he would get zapped. It was as if my body was protected by an electrical field, as if it was tuned into repelling Sean. And that indescribable protection gave me hope. Because I knew that it was Max. Max was still protecting me.

Thus, most of the time, Sean settled for clawing at my mind, from a safe distance. But sometimes he got through that odd protective wall around my body. Sometimes the safeguarding barrier was gone and he would seize the opportunity and choose to punish me with beatings rather than sex. I found gratitude in the small things: that Sean would be too angry whenever he would break through to rape me.

It didn't mean that I wasn't suffering. I had never been beaten in my life before these horrible days I was currently enduring. My parents had never laid a hand on me as an added disciplinary method. My body was completely unprepared for it. Even if I didn't actually think that anyone could ever prepare oneself for that physical pain.

Well, maybe a boxer. Or a martial arts fanatic.

But not a 16-year-old ex-waitress.

It hurt. It hurt in ways I couldn't explain. My gasps were useless, my labored breaths failed to relieve the sensations, my screams were ignored.

Sean made sure that I was in constant pain, one way or the other. In the periods when Max was protecting me, I remained physically safe, but Sean could still press against my mind; inducing headaches and piercing pain in my mind.

In the intermittent moments of the physical abuse, when my alien protection was missing, I wasn't only hurting because of the kicks to my stomach or the hard fists against my chest, against my face, but because of what that absence implied.

What was going on with Max in those moments that prevented him from protecting me?

My concern for him greatly overrode the physical pain. The lack of knowledge of his whereabouts, his condition, what they were doing to him was tearing me apart.

Maybe that was part of their plan too. Their plan to break me down.

On top of their inhuman treatment of me, they were starving me. I was given a small piece of bread per day, something that I had abstained from eating the first two days, on principle. I wanted them to know that I still had a choice over my own life. But my hunger had won in the end and now I had to pace myself so I wouldn't eat that egg-sized piece of bread too quickly, giving me a stomach ache. I had access to water from the adjoining small bathroom, but with a ridiculously low daily calorie intake I was rapidly growing weaker.

I could map out their agenda perfectly, even though they weren't much into sharing information with me. They aimed to weaken me enough (but of course, still keeping me alive) so that I would lose the control I had over my mind and would eventually accidentally let them in. Enabling them to break the connection, to take control over my mind and life.

They seemed to be able to access some parts of my mind. Immobilizing me, pinning me to the walls even without touching me, making me unconscious when they grew tired of me. But they were unsuccessful in breaking into the wall around my thoughts - where I kept Max safe. Where our bond was thrumming without relenting.

I spent the first two days in captivity by banging on the door until my hands bled, screaming for help until my voice turned hoarse before it grew weak from overuse.

Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie · (Roswell Fanfiction) ·  √Read this story for FREE!