"This is 21051, created in 1864 in MysticFalls." The voice said, shining a light right into Damon's cell.
Damon moaned as the light flashed over his eyes, his body burned from yesterday's experiments, he hoped today would be a skip day, so he could maybe regain some strength, but the vervain they kept in the air was weakening him even more.
"Sired by Katherine Pierce, to bad we don't have her; she'd be a fun project," A deeper male voice sighed; Damon heard the click of the light turning off.
"Mhm," The first male voice added; Damon heard the breaking of hinges as the cell door was unlocked, his muscles tensed as best they could, he closed his eyes as he was picked up by the shoulders, which throbbed at the touch.
"No," Damon groaned as the two men dragged him from the safety of his cell.
"Shut up," The first male voice commanded.
"Please," Damon choked out, groaning as they strained his sides, which were covered in half-healed wounds.
"I said shut up," The second man dropped Damon painfully and kicked him in the side, causing him to cough up blood.
Damon closed his eyes and pretended the world didn't exist for a moment. He was blinded with pain, it slithered along the contours of hi s heart, caressing it. He felt his skin screaming at him, begging him to fight back, but he couldn't there was hardly any strength in him to keep his eyes open. He was a fighter no more, but a victim of abuse.
"Think we went too hard on him yesterday?" The second male voice wondered.
"Nah, he should be fine, he'll just have trouble healing the next few days." The first male voice replied.
Katherine…why did you do this to me? Damon thought as the men picked him back up and dragged him along the cobblestone floor of the basement.
The cool basement was soon replaced by a row of stairs, each one dug into the grooves of his spine as he was dragged agonizingly up them. He felt the wounds straining against the freshly healed scars, threatening to break open again. He willed his body to stay healed, he used most of his energy to block out the world, but even he couldn't escape the pain.
"21051," a third male voice confirmed.
Damon felt himself be lifted onto a cold metallic table, he didn't fight, or move, he simply lay there, drifting somewhere between pain, death, and reality.
"Subject is motionless; wounds from yesterday's experiments are half-way healed already, even with the slowed healing process. Subject has gone without feeding for three days, and still maintains a human like appearance, there is no withering of the skin or bones." The third male voice was talking into a voice recorder; Damon had seen it when he'd been dragged in yesterday.
"Subject is to receive a few ounces of blood laced with acid, as to test the healing process of the inner organs."
No, if there is some kind of god, please no…Damon thought.
He felt the IV is it was shoved into his vein, his muscles tightened unconsciously; his whole body froze as it waited for the pain.
For a few blissful minutes there wasn't anything, and then suddenly it was like death had come calling. Damon screamed; he screamed like someone had cut off his arm, his insides burned like they were being melted down, white hot fire laced through his veins, he thrashed and something held him down, he kicked over one of the machines to his right and his legs were restrained. "KILL ME! KILL ME PLEASE!" He begged, he screamed as the acid worked its way through his organs, eating away at his stomach, his skin, his throat. He couldn't fight it anymore, the more he thrashed, the more he was held down and forced to take it. The pain was killing him, his mind was closed off, ignoring the rest of his body as he tried to remain in reality, as he tried to remember who and what he was.
Damon Salvatore…a vampire, they are doing this to me because I am a vampire. I will never see the daylight again, I will never walk through the world again as I am to die a lab rat.
As soon as it had started, it was over. The pain slowly receded, taking its sweet ass time.
"Take it back," The third guy's voice said smugly.
Damon felt himself being lifted again; he couldn't hold any of his own weight anymore, he was completely unconscious. He couldn't open his eyes, light was too painful, he just wanted his damp, dark, dreary cell.
Soon he felt the coolness of the basement jail, he was being dragged along the stairs, and then the cobblestones, he heard the latch and was soon thrown back onto the familiar floor, on the wall above his head he knew would be his own little reminder of why he was still alive. On the wall read a hand carved inscription: D. S. '53.
I am Damon Salvatore…