Chapter Eighteen (Part One)

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Days ago, you would've woken up in a bed that you shared with another man, one you considered yourself intimate with. But when you cracked your tired eyes open to gaze out at your surroundings, you were met with a thick piece of glass encompassed in heated metal, though you felt quite cool. The sight was shocking, but you felt so drugged and exhausted that you fought to keep your eyes open, attempting to roll to the side, but something stopped you. A strange metal clamp held your wrist back against the surface your back was leaning on, ensuring that you couldn't move. Shifting slightly revealed that your other arm, knees, and torso were similarly cuffed to the rest of the metal cage. Your eyes shot open in worry as your head flew forward, stopping just in front of the layered, scratched up, stained glass that was your only window into some sort of explanation as to what was going on. Your shirt was missing as well - or had it always been like that? - replaced by some cold circular pieces that attached to your body in various places, and were feeding some orange liquid into your skin and beyond through clear plastic tubes that flowed from up above you. There were three on your chest, two on your torso, and an additional few on your arms and shoulders, and you assumed there was one on your head, though you couldn't recognize it actually being there. Any regular person would've began hyperventilating or panicking a while ago, but you were still surprisingly calm, enough that it even concerned you, however chill you were in that moment. Since the metal case you were stuck in was dark, and you couldn't make out much, you turned your attention to the outside of the room, where some bald-headed old guy was flipping switches and monitoring levels on a couple of standing boards that were also covered in fixed metal, though there were plastic wires running between them, your little space, and something else beside you that was out of view. Nothing was recognizable to you; not the room, the brown clothed male, or whatever was happening. Come to think of it, you couldn't recognize anything! Everything was foreign and abnormal in your eyes, unrecognizable and completely new. This fact pushed your anxiety over the edge it needed to give you an attack, and you muscles locked up, and your breathing sped. Suddenly, a sharp pain started in your head, migrating to your skull and down your stiff spine to your tailbone, where it stayed in every spot it hit like a fire, catching onto everything around it and making your whole body ache in pain as your 'memories' filled your head with their implanted lies, but still not explaining how you got in this contraption, or why you were hooked up in it. Tears crowded at your eyes to express your pain, as if that would help any, and soft sniffles came from your scrunched form as it fought against the restraints to hold your head and lessen the hurting that was occuring. The man, Notch, was watching you with his usually soft brown eyes, which now showed a blissfully sadistic side to them. A small smirk curled up on his face as he watched your incessant squirming before pressing a button and leaning down towards the dash board, and suddenly you could hear his breathing, which was followed by his harsh, gleeful voice that echoed in the metal container.

"Hurts, doesn't it?"

Your breath suddenly cut of and you silently gasped for air, occasionally emitting a little squeak in the quest for oxygen. It wasn't that you were choking, no, not at all. You were convinced you were choking, that was all; nothing more than in your head. Unfortunately, that's not a fact that you knew at this time, so the gagging was real, the pain was real, and the terror was the worst. The thick, tinted glass quickly fogged up with your rampant gasps for breath, and ragged, weak groans. Notch seemed pleased with your suffering, and proceeded to mess with more dials and switches and buttons that brought light into your closed-off cage and lit up the blank area.
There were dents in the grimy, dirt colored metal, possibly from other occupants who had had better luck in their escape attempts. You only wished you were strong enough, or small enough to slip out of the bindings that rubbed against your exposed (S/C) wrists. Additionally, the ground, which your feet couldn't reach, was stained with dried blood, and what seemed like a clear, saliva-like liquid. It was now quite clear that you weren't the first person to be stuck in this torture chamber.
Suddenly, the light brightened and the pain you were feeling increased tenfold, ripping a scream out of your dry throat. It wasn't at all like the firey cold that was burning up and down your spine like a bonfire, or the blistering headache that felt like someone was driving a wedge into your brain. The new pain started in his feet, like thousands of horrendously amplified pins and needles breaking through your skin and working it's way all the way up your body at a torturous pace. Through all your pained crying and squirming about for freedom, you heard the sound of an explosion, and drifted off into blackness.

To be continued ;)

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