Warnings: Nothing besides the obvious mention of torture. I made it as mild as I could. And of course language.
His arms chained to the wall above his head and his feet barely touching the ground, he groaned deep in his throat as another stab of hunger tore through his stomach. It was only outmatched by his thirst. Even the pain throughout his body did not bother him as much anymore. In truth, he was nearly positive his entire body was numb by now and that it would never feel anything again.
If only that was true…
Yeah, he really wished it was true because right now he was sure he felt every damn thing. Including the fact that someone was pressing a hot poker against his instep and his jaw was clenched so tightly he was amazed his teeth were not turning to dust. Jerking as a fresh poker was laid against the skin of his other foot he pried his eyes open just enough to stare at his tormentor.
The boy was young, making this even more degrading then the knowledge of having been captured because he was too dense to see when someone was following him. Especially since the kid who was torturing him was the one who had captured him. I'm fuckin' losin' my edge.
Clenching his jaw more as the poker was pulled away, and with it the melted flesh from the hot metal being pressed too tightly, he refused to utter a sound. It was humiliation enough.
The kid turned around (probably to reheat the poker, he thought bitterly) but stopped when he saw something out of his sight range. "Aniki," the boy greeted with hesitance. He quickly dropped the metal rod he had used on him and turned away from him completely.
Forcing himself not to drop his head down in relief at this unseen reprieve he slowly opened his eyes more to take in the room he had spent untold hours or days in. He did not know how long he had been here, and frankly if anyone had told him he would have told them to fuck off.
The room was dark, not allowing him to see much beyond the kid and the pit of coals used to keep reheating the pokers. What little he could make out was bare rocks, an array of metal tools, and dark stains beneath his feet. Yeah, he really did not want to focus on what those stains were so instead he tried to see into the blackness for this kid's supposed big brother… He hated to think what additional things could happen to him if 'Aniki' started helping the kid.
May God have mercy on him. Torture by this brat was painful enough, he hated to think how much worse it could be if someone who knew what they were doing started in on him.
Inadvertently flinching back when a tall lanky figure stepped closer to the glow from the coals he could see this one bore little resemblance to the kid. Older by at least a decade he had hair that blended into the dark around them and a face that conveyed nothing. He could not even tell if the man approved or disapproved of his tortured state.
That was creepy as hell.
"Aniki, why are you here?" The boy asked as he stepped closer to the man seemingly before he even realized his actions.
"Father requested I check on your progress." If he thought the expressionless face was bad, it was worse hearing the monotonous voice that went with it. It was like the man truly had no preference, no opinion, and was indifferent to the world around him.
He reiterates; Creepy. As. Hell.
The man walked closer as the boy did nothing. And despite the lack of expression, he felt as though he was being examined, as though he was being appraised for either sale or for the butcher's block. Feeling the shiver of fear down his spine at those dead black eyes staring unblinkingly at him he turned his gaze down. It was disconcerting.
"You have improved Kil," the man said with the slightest hint of emotion in his voice. The boy behind him beamed, a tooth-revealing grin breaking over his face. He was amazed that the boy took such delight in being praised for something as unholy as torture. For God's sake the boy was barely ten years old! What twisted family encouraged such actions?!
But then… he knew the answer to that. Knew it the moment the boy had walked towards him after he regained consciousness and told him everything that was going to happen. The boy had even given him his name, as though it was nothing special, "My name's Killua Zoldyck and my dad said it's time to learn how to torture someone. So I'm gonna practice on you, 'kay. You could be a big help if you screamed lots."
Wrapping his bloodless fingers around the thick chains he tried to keep from showing the two before him precisely how much pain he was in. His body was ravaged and he knew it. There was not a single inch of skin that did not throb from abuse; burns from fire and corrosive acid, bone deep cuts from blades, broken bones breaking through skin… The only injuries he had yet to suffer seemed to be dismemberment, decapitation, and Stone Age torture techniques like flaying or the rack. If not for his audience he might have snorted. Perish the thought the kid knew his history and what used to be done to prisoners of war… or slaves.
History was ever filled with the blood of the innocent and the corrupt.
"Ne aniki can I take a break," the boy asked as his brother finally stepped away and turned as if to leave. Unfortunately he stopped to turn back to the boy before he answered. Though his answer was nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement, yet that too seemed to make the boy grin.
The two of them moved beyond the muted glow of the coals, leaving him finally alone.
He had thought that knowledge would fill him with relief, but in reality it only doubled his dread. With the boy always present he knew what was coming for him. Even if he closed his eyes all he had to do was listen, he could hear what the boy picked up or sometimes the kid would mutter out loud to himself and tell him what was going to happen next. But now, now if he closed his eyes he would hear nothing and at any moment an unexpected touch, a freshly made injury, could cause him unimaginable pain.
Not knowing was always worse than knowing. If he knew it was coming he could be prepared. Right now, if he closed his eyes he would be caught unprepared. And that thought was so terrifying, so horrifying at the prospect of what could possible come next, that he dared not close his eyes for longer than the occasional second when he needed to blink. Every time he did so he sent a silent prayer of thanks that the kid had not followed through on that particular idea…
"Hey mister, what do you think would happen if I cut off your eye lids? I know it would hurt. You'd probably bleed into your eyes too which I don't think you'd like, but what about when you have to blink? What do you think would happen then? I wanna find out," he had even picked up the scalpel-like tool that would make cutting off his eye lids easy work but he set it aside a breath later, "Nah, I should save that for later. I don't think dad will let me stop anytime soon and I know brother told me lots of other things I could try first. So…" He had drawn the word out as he looked over everything around him and settled on something much larger than the scalpel. Yet it too had made his blood run cold.
Shaking his head so as to clear the memories he never wanted to relive he stared off into the dark, hoping that if he did not look at the coals he could go longer without blinking. It was a desperate plan, but by then anything would have been seen as desperate, just so he could stop himself from feeling pain for even a second.
Yeah torture sucked. But what sucked even more was knowing he could not do a damn thing about his situation. He was trapped until the kid either killed him or set him free…
Which brought that crappy "The truth will set you free" quote to mind. Not sure when he had first heard it, or even where, all he wanted to do was laugh at the irony. In this case, the truth would not set him free, seeing as the truth was he was trapped here until death. He had high doubts he would be released alive, although he could argue death was a kind of freedom. But who would he argue with? His own brain?
Why not, it was already ridiculing him over everything else.
Softly laughing out loud at himself he had finally reached his limit. With every part of his body both numb and throbbing, he closed his eyes and gave into the blissful reprieve that was unconsciousness.
However, that reprieve was short lived because when the kid came back he drenched him with a bucket of iced water. The water not only brought him immediately back to the present, but the dripping wetness reopened wounds that mixed with the clear trails now running down his body until they turned pink and started the throbbing all over again. It also brought home the fact just how little heat the coals gave to the air and before long goose flesh rose on his skin.
It seemed Round Two was just about to begin.
Mentally bracing himself for whatever was to come he squeezed his eyes as tight as he could, held his breath, and listened as the kid picked up something.
The next thing he knew a slicing pain was radiating out from his side and the muttered, "Crap," from the kid just before another searing pain blossomed from his opposite side.
Feedback is welcomed. I'm not used to writing Kil, let alone young Kil, but (if I do say so myself) I'm definitely good with torture. Kinda helps when ya got a bloodthirsty friend to talk with as well ;)