A/N: Hey-a friends! I know it's been a little while since I posted, but it's okay! Because I've got a new chapter for you. ;) To the lovely reviewers: DrewSb, lenail125, O'Rei'nji Fishcake, and the peeps without FF accounts; you are all amazing! Thank you for taking a moment out of your day/night to write me a review! You don't even know how much joy I get when I see that I have a new review! :D
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)
WARNING: This chapter does contain torture and some blood!
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Bzz Bzz
'Not again. Please, not again.'
"Good morning, boy! How are we doing today? Sleep well?" Cullen called in a cheerful voice as his tall frame glided into the room. Stiles knew the questions were rhetorical but the curse reacted to Cullen's previous command to respond with a shake or nod of the head. Stiles shook his head side to side once to signify that no, he hadn't slept well. In fact, he hadn't slept at all. Stiles wasn't even sure if it was still Tuesday (the day he had gone to the pack meeting). There were no windows in the room and if there was a clock, it was probably on the digital door panel. But seeing as Stiles was still facing the back wall, he couldn't even attempt to make out the time. Going by Cullen's questions of "How are we doing today?" and "Sleep well?", Stiles guessed that it was probably Wednesday morning. He hadn't even been gone a full 24 hours yet. Which meant that his dad wouldn't be able to put out an official APB for him. Why did Stiles' life have to suck so much?
Cullen's laugh behind him brought him back into the moment. "That's just too bad. I slept marvelously, in case you were wondering," Cullen chimed. "Phillip, let him down, please."
Stiles turned his head to watch as the Dutch man, who's name was apparently Phillip, approached. Stiles' eyes tracked the man's movements closely as Phillip stretched out a long arm and unclipped the chain from above Stiles's head. Stiles breathed out a shallow sigh of relief. He had begun to fear that he was going to be strung up like a slaughtered pig until he was found. After the beating he had received, the strain of having his arms pulled above his head was agony on his freshly cracked and broken ribs. He had begun to have some difficulty breathing.
But while having his arms down by his sides was still painful, it was a lot better than being strung up. Phillip released the chain and grabbed onto Stiles' bicep and spun him around to face the front of the room. He then lead Stiles back to the chair the teen had originally been seated on. "Sit," he said sharply. Stiles bent his knees and sat down quickly. He sat still in his chair as the Dutch man retreated to stand behind Cullen. The room was blanketed in silence for a moment as Cullen, stood like a statue, stared intently at the pale teen in the chair.
"You know, boy, you're burning through your lessons very quickly. You learn fast. I expected more of a fight from you. Where's that fire I saw in you? I know we didn't extinguish it with the lessons," Cullen said in his smooth baritone. "But no matter! We will continue with the lessons. I've got so many I want to teach you." He closed the distance between himself and Stiles. Cullen reached out a hand and tousled the dark hair on Stiles' head. " I've got an entire curriculum," he smiled down at the teen. Stiles closed his eyes and made a snap decision. His eyes flew open as his left hand shot up and knocked the hand out of his hair. Cullen took a half-step back in surprise. Stiles jerked his right leg up and aimed a kick for his kidnapper's stomach. His foot connected solidly with Cullen's abdomen, sending the man stumbling backwards. Stiles took the opportunity and rose quickly from the wooden seat. Phillip had never chained him to the chair. Stiles brought his fists up and mocked the fighting crouch he had seen Derek and Scott do all the time. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do, but whatever happened, he was going down swinging. He felt a spike of anger when he heard the laugh that emanated from Cullen.
"Cute," Cullen said through his chuckles. "Very cute. But you're not going to fight us. I doubt you could even take one of us."
With every word that came out of his mouth, Cullen came closer and closer to the strong-willed teen until he was within Stiles' hitting range.
"But, if you're so determined, go on. Hit me."
Problem 1: Cullen's previous observation of "You're not going to fight us" had registered in Stiles' mind as a command. The second the words were out of Cullen's mouth, Stiles' fists had started to uncurl and lower.
Problem 2: Cullen had given Stiles a command to hit him.
Problem 3: Problem 2 conflicted with Problem 1.
Stiles knew what was coming. His hands returned to their fisted positions and came up to chest level. He could feel the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensing, ready to deliver a blow. But they were incapable of doing so because of the conflicting commands. Immediately, an agonizing stabbing appeared in his head. He raised his hands and grabbed at his head, his fingers fisting in his hair. He could feel blood running from his nose down his lips and chin. He guessed that there was most likely blood leaking from his eyes as well.
"What do we do, sir?" Stiles could only just hear the voice through the ringing in his ears. Stiles thought the voice belonged to Phillip but he couldn't be sure. "Well how should I know! Do I look like a doctor to you?" That was definitely Cullen. So the first voice must've been Phillip's. "Do you think he's epileptic?" Cullen asked.
A moan escaped Stiles as the pain in his head ratcheted up another notch. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fell to his knees, his hand shooting out to catch himself as he fell forward. "Stop. Stopstopstop," he mouthed silently to the floor.
"Go get the sedative!" Stiles heard Cullen bark to the other man. Stiles ignored the door's 'beep' as he lost his balance and toppled onto his side. A sudden wave of nausea claimed his stomach and he retched dryly. There was absolutely nothing left in his stomach to bring up. Somehow, that made retching an even more miserable experience than usual. When his stomach finally decided that retching was useless, he was left feeling short of breath. Stiles tried to drag in the great amounts of air his lungs so desperately needed. Air was important for living and Stiles wanted to live. He needed air. But he couldn't seem to get enough.
As he frantically tried to fill his lungs with air, he heard the dreaded Bzz Bzz of the door and instantly thought the worst. His wasn't completely thinking straight thanks to the steadily intensifying pain in his head. It couldn't be time for a lesson. Couldn't Cullen see that Stiles was in enough agony as it was? Why couldn't Stiles seem to catch a break from this guy? His mind went into frenzy mode as he saw two pairs of black boots quickly approaching from his vantage point on the floor. His body reacted of its own accord. His arms and legs lashed out as he felt grabbing at him. Stiles could distantly hear his own shouts of anger and fear as the two men tried to subdue him.
"Hold him still!"
"I'm trying! He's moving too much!"
"That's what the sedative's for. But I can't give it to him if you can't hold him still!"
Stiles fought harder when a pair of hands managed to latch onto the chain still connecting his wrists and pulled his arms up and away from his body and pressed them into the floor. He struck out with his legs as the man then flipped him onto his back and straddled his hips, effectively trapping Stiles between the floor and the man's body. Stiles yelled again, not from the anger he felt at being subdued so quickly, but from the pain that had risen to a level he hadn't known existed. He didn't even feel the prick in his neck as the needle was inserted and the sedative was administered. Within seconds, the fight left Stiles completely. His body relaxed into the floor as the sedative took hold. His head lolled to the side and he let the darkness wash over him like the calm after a storm.
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Beeeep.
Stiles jerked awake with a gasp. Instantly he noticed that something was off. Why was the room dark? Oh God. He wasn't blind was he? Stiles reached up a hand to check his eyes for any damage. They didn't hurt but that didn't mean that they couldn't be injured. His hand never made it to face. Stiles sighed heavily. He was chained down to something, but he couldn't see what. He was seated against what felt like one of the walls of the room he was being held in. Stiles raised his right arm and tested the length of the chain attached to his wrist. His hand came up just to chest height. He tested the length of the chain on his left arm and was met with the same result. Stiles huffed and rested his head back against the wall.
Beeeep.
If he couldn't use his hands to check his eyes he would have to make do. Stiles blinked his eyes quickly. He frowned as he felt his eyelashes brush against something. Was that a blindfold? He raised and lowered his eyebrows in quick succession twice. He felt something shift slightly across the bridge of his nose. Yep, definitely a blindfold. But why? What didn't Cullen want him to see?
Stiles bent his knees and pressed his feet into the floor to slightly lift himself off the ground so he could change positions. His butt was starting to get numb. How long had he been sitting there? Suddenly, all his senses decided to rush back into existence. He arched his back off the wall as the whip marks and burns made themselves known. Stiles felt like his back was on fire. He hissed out a pained breath. That's when his ribs decided they deserved to be remembered too. Breathing was suddenly a chore. The pain it caused him was unimaginable. Stiles resorted to breathing in short and shallow breaths. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the pattern for long without becoming short of breath or passing out. And he had had enough of passing out.
Stiles was acutely aware of the hunger that was gnawing at his insides. He swore that his stomach was touching his spine. He needed food and water. But he couldn't ask for it because: "You will only speak when spoken to." Stiles hated the curse with a passion. He wanted to be rid of it but he didn't exactly have the means or the resources at that current moment.
Bzz Bzz
Stiles controlled breathing stopped. He raised his head in the direction the sound had come from. The mantra that held him together jumped to the front of his mind.
'Remain strong.'
"I see you're awake. Shall we start Lesson 5?"
'Don't crack.'
"To ensure your cooperation, you are going to have to wear this."
'Don't break.'
A calloused hand clamped onto this jaw and forced his chin upwards. Stiles flinched as he felt something cold and metallic encircle his neck and was then snapped shut in the back.
'Don't fall apart.'
Was that a collar? Stiles swallowed reflexively and felt his Adam's apple straining against the metal.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I have you blindfolded?"
As a matter of fact, the thought had crossed Stiles' mind.
"We're going to play a little game. It's called 'Simon Says'. I'm sure you've heard of it."
Stiles didn't like the sound of that. Who was this guy? Stiles couldn't place the man's voice; it didn't sound familiar. Maybe he was another one of Cullen's henchmen that Stiles hadn't met. How many were there?
"Now, I'm going to unchain you but you mustn't move."
Stiles groaned inwardly as his muscles locked up and left him frozen in his spot. This could've been his chance at escape. Stiles listened to the man's footsteps as he approached. He felt the pressure on his right wrist as the man inserted the key into the lock on the manacle. Once his right wrist was free, the man moved on to free his left.
"Now, I'm sure you already know the rules for our game. If 'Simon' doesn't say 'Simon Says' and all the little children do the action anyways, the children are 'out."
Stiles thought he detected a faded Irish accent in the man's voice. Where did Cullen keep getting all these foreign guys?
"But in our version, if I don't say 'Simon says' and you do the action: –"
Liquid fire burned through every vein and spared no muscle in Stiles' body. His breath was snatched away as his body seized, his muscled taught with pain. Then abruptly, the pain vanished. His body relaxed and Stiles was left panting as his ability to breathe returned.
The collar was a shock collar.
"Every time I will up the voltage by 15. That was setting 30."
Stiles tilted his head up in the direction the man's voice had come from.
"You get the idea?"
Stiles said nothing. The man laughed.
"Good. Let's begin."
'Remain strong.'
"Stand up." Stiles gathered his feet under him and pushed himself up using the wall for balance. He was forced back to his knees as the collar was activated. He didn't even feel his knees hit the floor with brutal force. All he could feel was the electricity coursing through his body.
"I didn't say 'Simon'." The collar was deactivated. Stiles heaved in a breath.
'Don't crack.'
"Let's try that again. Simon says stand up." Stiles wasted no time on getting back to his feet.
"Good boy. Simon says hold out your hand."
Stiles apprehensively stretched out his right hand with his palm up. He yelped as something heavy and extremely hot was dropped in his hand. His reflex arc kicked in and he dropped the object that was burning his hand and yanked his appendage back. Another yelp involuntarily escaped him as the collar came alive around his neck. The electricity was cut off after ten agonizing seconds. "Did I say you could drop it?" Came the irritated voice of the Irish man. Stiles answered with a perfunctory shake of his head. He wanted so desperately to reply to the man with one of his trademark sarcastic responses. But the words just wouldn't come. Stiles was afraid he was going to lose his voice due to disuse.
'Don't break.'
"Pick it up!" Stiles dropped into a crouch and, due to the fact that he was currently blindfolded, cautiously swept his hands along the floor for the white-hot item he had dropped. His fingers found the object about two feet in front of him. And though Stiles was sure that it was quickly going to burn a hole through his palm, he picked it up and straightened up to his full height. His nerves were sending signals of agony to his brain the longer he held the item. A scream ripped out of him the pain of the collar was suddenly added to that of the burning in his hand. His whole body shook as the voltage coursed through him. He didn't drop the object held securely in his hand though.
"I didn't say 'Simon'!" The man said with a sadistic laugh. "Are you having fun yet? I know I am."
Stiles didn't respond. He was lost in a world of pain. The electricity seemed to awaken all the curbed pain from his previous injuries. Stiles back felt like someone had doused it in gasoline and lit a fire on it. He could feel the fire burning down to his bones.
"Simon says drop it, boy."
Stiles hand relaxed and the object was released from his grasp. He heard it drop to the floor with a metallic 'clang'. What had he been holding? It hadn't felt big but it certainly wasn't small either. The question of the object's form was erased from Stiles' mind as the shock collar was switched off.
"That was 75 volts. I have to say, you're not very good at this."
'Don't fall apart.'
Stiles cradled his fried left hand in to his chest. He hoped it wasn't too damaged. As Stiles worked to replace the air in his lungs, he realized he could practically smell the electricity in the air. He also recognized the scent of burning flesh. He didn't like how quick he was getting at making out the vile smell. Stiles' stomach was already starting to turn.
"Let's play another round. What do you say?" The man actually sounded excited at the though of getting another chance to zap Stiles with the advanced dog collar.
Stiles kept his head lowered as the man prepared for the next command.
"Simon says sit."
Stiles bent his knees and lowered himself until his was sitting on his heels, his knees resting on the ground.
"Lay down."
Stiles tried to fight it but the curse had complete control over all of his actions. He braced his hands against the ground – using only the fingertips of his left hand – and lowered his upper body to the floor. He quickly braced himself for the inevitable. His body seized as the electricity raced through him for all of five seconds.
"That one was 90. Simons says sit up and then lay down." Stiles could practically hear the smirk in the man's voice. Stiles grit his teeth as he pushed himself up back into his sitting position before re-lowering his body to the cement floor.
"Good boy! Now, Simon says to roll over," the Irish man said with a laugh. Stiles swallowed the humiliation as the curse forced him to roll from his front to his back to his front. He waited in silence as the Irish man struggled to contain his amusement.
"Stand up, doggy," the man said in a derogatory tone. Stiles bent his legs under him and stood up. What sounded like it might have been a whine escaped Stiles' throat. The Irish man hacked out his dry laugh.
"Ah, are you even trying to avoid being shocked? You obeyed every command. I'm starting to think you might be a bit of a masochist."
Stiles panted as the collar was shut off.
"Well, I'm afraid that's all we have time for for today, lad. But, I'll tell you what: you can keep the collar. Consider it a gift, since you seem to like it so much."
Stiles felt his heart drop as he realized that this man had probably had no intention of taking the collar off in any circumstance. Now, Stiles was stuck with it. It was just another layer of icing on the cake.
"Now back up, boy. We need to get you back in your chains."
Stiles obediently backed up to the wall he thought he had been previously chained to. He flinched as his ravaged back hit the wall. He took a half-step forward before lowering himself to the ground. He must've been in the perfect spot, because moments later he felt the Irish man resealing the manacles on Stiles' wrists. Stiles hissed a breath through his teeth as his blistered hand was roughly handled.
"All right, then. Until next time, lad."
Stiles relaxed slightly as he heard the familiar 'beep' which signaled the door's closing. He was finally alone. But because of the blindfold which still barred his vision, he couldn't be sure. If there was someone else in the room, they were being super stealthy about it. So long as the stealth ninja wasn't bothering him, Stiles tried to take advantage of the silence and ––
Beeeep.
Well, he said silence. But he really tried to take advantage of the fact that nobody was currently bothering him or torturing him. And right then, that was enough.
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Hope you guys enjoyed! Leave me comment and tell me what you thought! Let me know if you guys want to see anything specific in the upoming chapters! Ships (no slash please), plot twists, fluffy moments, etc. All the love and smooth writing gel pens!
