The first day, Des was dragged into the torture chamber, kicking and screaming. When he was brought back to the leader's room, he refused to talk to him, staying as far away from him as possible. The leader didn't mind at first, trying to initiate conversation.
When that failed (Des had spit at him, cursing and yelling), he was taken back to the chamber, put through the same rigorous 'conditioning'. Des didn't sleep that night, electing to sit at the opposite side of the room, watching the leader as he laid in bed.
He had thought of trying to kill the leader multiple times, but couldn't think of what might happen afterwards. He stayed.
The second day, the same thing, then the third. By the time the fourth day rolled around, Desmond was exhausted. Bruises and cuts littered his body. His mind didn't feel right, memories of Nate and Raymond -- were those their names? Odd -- fading away.
Again, the leader tried to initiate conversation. This time, Desmond didn't react negatively, instead electing to remain quiet. He hated the way the man smiled. He knew he was giving up to him, but simply couldn't find the strength within him to endure more than one round of their 'conditioning' that day.
Again, he sat on the opposite side of the room, but this time, he found himself dozing. He slept that night, curled up on his side and facing the leader's bed, just in case anything happened.
Nothing did.
The fifth day. Desmond was taken to the torture chamber, then given back to the leader after six hours of hell -- a few more hours than usual. When he saw the leader, he was not struck with anger, or wariness.
No. He was met with a wave of calm. This didn't horrify Des as much as it should have.
His memories were fractured, broken, making his head hurt too much to think. Few memories remained of what life was before coming here. All he knew was the leader, the torture sessions, and the leader.
The leader started a conversation again. This time, Des gave short answers. The leader smiled -- it didn't look like a mocking one. It was genuine.
Des found he wanted to see it again.
The sixth day. The people took Des, and he fought back, wanting to remain in that safe room, with the leader. The leader kept him safe; he felt calm there now.
When he was given back, he was dazed, mind foggy and lightheaded. He didn't struggle when they grabbed him from the table, this time; weak, uncoordinated attacks met them this time.
He stood, wobbled on his feet, staring at the leader with squinted eyes. He felt like he shouldn't like this person, but… he was the only comfort he had. The leader gathered him into an embrace after a few minutes of prompting with no response, Des on the verge of collapsing. The red-eyed man found himself leaning into that embrace, wanting nothing more than to sleep, his body shivering and mind whirling. He was confused. It hurt to think.
The leader held him for a long moment. Then, he spoke.
"How long have you known me, Desmond?" The red-eyed man blinked slowly. It hurt to think, but….
He searched through his fractured memories. He didn't know how long he'd known this man. The only memories he could remember clearly was the ones of this place, with the leader, and with the pain and torture and exhaustion.
"I don't know." Somewhere, a voice told him that what he was seeing was wrong, this was just a tactic to make him love the man holding him now.
He didn't have it in him to believe it.
There were other memories, memories that didn't quite fit -- an older man, taking care of him when he was sick. A younger man, bringing with him the feelings of being wanted, calm, love -- The more he tried to grasp them, the more they slipped through, fading and breaking, like broken glass, or water through an outstretched palm. He simply couldn't grasp them.
The leader smiled. "That's alright. Why don't you sleep on the bed tonight? You've had a long day."
Des remained silent, but didn't fight when the leader placed him on the bed, bringing the covers over him. "Sleep," he heard the leader telling him. He couldn't refuse.
Des dreamed that night. He dreamed about those familiars -- the older man, the younger one. Some parts of his dream were normal (or what he perceived as 'normal'), those people hurting him and seeing the leader being tortured and killed -- he hated that. Other parts were… odd, the people being kind, helping him through attacks.
Something didn't feel right about that. Were they his friends….? What was real? What was fiction?
The dream faded, was replaced by the younger man kissing him. Des didn't know what to do. This felt all wrong --
"Desmond?" The younger man asked. "Desmond?"
Des jolted awake. The leader was shaking him, a somewhat concerned expression on his face. He looked at the leader, breathing heavily.
"Desmond?" The red-eyed man stared at the leader before letting out a soft sob. "Are you alright? What happened?"
"I'm so confused."
"Why?"
"I… had a dream." Desmond paused, then the leader motioned for him to continue. "About you getting hurt, me getting hurt… by two men." The leader narrowed his eyes, posture going stiff.
"...And?"
"...And then it shifted to…. There was a younger one and an older one, and… the younger one was… kissing me?" The leader's eyes narrowed further.
"I see." The leader sat up, reaching over to the bedside table and turning on the lamp, other hand fidgeting on the table as well before he turned back to Des. "Anything else you remember?"
"N-No… I --" The door opened after a knock. Three men came in. Des jumped out of the bed, cowering in the corner. "No! Stay away from me!" He shrieked. The men didn't listen, surrounding him and picking him up by his arms. Des kicked wildly. "No! Put me down! Put me down!" The leader smiled after Des had been dragged out, kicking and screaming and sobbing.
Everything was going exactly as he had envisioned. Even with the minor… setbacks (curse the human brain), Desmond was slowly forgetting those fools and deciding that he was better. Exactly what he wanted.
He just hoped those idiots didn't decide to try and take Des back before the reconditioning was complete. He wanted to see the look on their faces when their friend attacked them.
It was only a matter of time.