Chapter 3: Poison... The Rage of Destruction

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My eyes opened to something beeping. I tried to sit up, but my arm crumbled under my weight. Pushing back the blanket, I found my forearm in a cast. I ran my fingers over the coarse material and noticed a thin piece of metal pressed under my skin on my other hand. I squeezed it between my fingers. Someone grabbed my wrist.

"Don't touch it," stated Sir.

Nodding, I hugged my wounded arm to my chest.

"You nearly died." He leaned over me. "And for what? Because those three are not worth having your arm ripped off!" Sir braced his arms on either side of the bed and looked me directly in the eyes. "What happened?"

"I didn't see him," I whispered, sinking deeper into the bed.

"For some reason, I'm finding that hard to believe." He moved in closer. "You better come up with something better, because I'm not going for, I didn't see him."

"I saw him," I said softly. "Just... not in time."

Grabbing a handful of hair, he yanked my head to the side. "You are, by far, the stupidest savage I have ever met," he growled in my ear, before letting go. "How many years have you been tracking down those parasites, and you still don't know what you're doing?"

I touched the metal object in my hand.

"I told you not to touch it!" He snatched my wrist and secured it in place with a black restraint.

"Sir," I gasped, grabbing his shirt. "Sir, please don't."

"You should have thought of that before." He shoved me into the bed and began to secure me in place.

"Please, take them off." I arched my back. "I promise not to touch it. Please."

"I think it's a fitting punishment." He pulled them tighter.


"You're broken, Alex." He brushed his fingers along my cast. "This way, you won't be able to hurt yourself anymore."

The tears began to flow before I could stop them. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"What am I going to do with you?"

"I won't touch it. I promise."

Sir shook his head and patted my shoulder. "I know." He turned toward the door. "I'll be back in a couple of days."

"Sir?" I struggled against the restraints. "Sir!"

* * *

I struggled against my restraints, reliving the pain of a whip cutting into flesh. The door opened. I was jarred back into reality. A man in a long white coat entered followed by a woman carrying a silver case. Breathing heavily, I watched them closely as they walked toward me.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked the woman.

I jerked away from his hand when he touched the skin rubbed raw by the restraints.

"Holt wants it done," replied the woman, dropping the case on the table next to me. "That's what the report said." She popped open the top and took out a bottle nestled inside. Holding it above her head, she forced a needle through the top. A black liquid shot into the chamber.

The man pulled the restraints tighter. "Just try and relax. This won't take long." He cleaned an area on my shoulder. "Hand me the syringe, I'll do it." He took it from the woman. "Hold him still."

"What are you doing?" I lifted my head.

"It'll make you feel better." He forced the end deep into my shoulder. "You'll see."

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