A/N: So this basically came out of my reading The Island of Doctor Moreau and listening to a creepy John Murphy song. Enjoy!

Title is from the song "In the House - In a Heartbeat" from 28 Days Later.

Edit (02/03/11): At my good friend HyperSoft's suggestion, I have reworked one paragraph. Go check her out: .net/u/1990424/HyperSoft


The emotional appeal of those yells grew upon me steadily, grew at last to such an exquisite expression of suffering that…it was as if all the pain in the world had found a voice.

- H.G. Wells, The Island of Doctor Moreau


1.

He wakes on a cold table, with the Devil whispering in his ear.

At first, he feels only sensations: disorientation, confusion, recognition, fear. The memories come in the smell. He knows this smell. It's the smell of surgery, anaesthesia, and death. He knows this place. He's been here before, in a waking nightmare. This place is terror and despair. And he knows this voice. It is no stranger to him; it is easily recognizable, too familiar. He has heard it speak too many times. It should have been silenced long ago.

"Donatello."

No, that name is sacred, forbidden. It is for fathers and brothers. It is not for him. He has no right to call him that. But he will. Because he can. This is his kingdom. In this place, his power is absolute and guaranteed. Indisputable.

There are straps around his wrists and ankles. New and crisp material; he can detect the smell of fresh leather underneath the stench of chloroform and sterility. This leather was purchased with him in mind, for the sole purpose of securing him to this table. And suddenly, the smell of sanitation is overwhelmingly sickening. Everything in this abattoir is new. Everything is just for him. Everything.

"Do you know what you are, Donatello?"

His eyes open slowly. The world is foggy and unfocussed; a side effect from whatever drug was used to subdue him. But the Devil's voice is sharp and crystal clear.

"Do you know what you are?"

He wants to answer, but his vocal chords are shrivelled, withered into silence.

"I'll tell you what you are." The voice continues. "You are a secret that needs unveiling. You are a problem that needs solving. You are a question, and I will answer you."

No straps hold down his chest. His torso is left wide open, an anatomical goldmine. And then he knows. After this—if he survives—this place will smell like pain.