He didn't scream anymore. He seemed to remember how, when the tests had first started, he had screamed at the agony of them and the torture of his existence. He hadn't screamed for ten years now, and his last scream then had been the first for months.
It had been the day Hojo had discovered a new use for his body, a new way of testing his pain tolerance. Some new ammunition for the demons to torment him with at night, sneering and laughing.
He sighed inwardly. He could not rely on his memory anymore, not so far as the tests were concerned. This was a problem, because she was just a memory, and if he lost her, he lost everything.
Even though the tests had stopped for a long time now, his body still ached at the memories he thought were his. He closed his crimson eyes in the semi-dark. The demons started yelling louder.
He rolled over in his coffin. He didn't scream anymore.