CHAPTER 20

A/N: This chapter contains a gang rape scene. Do not read if this topic offends you.

Starsky grunted in pain as the baton hit him in the small of his back, dropping him to his knees. The guards in this place were just as violent as the criminals they were hired to oversee. As a convict on death row, Starsky spent twenty-three hours a day locked in his cell. One hour he spent in the exercise yard, a tiny barren area surrounded by concrete walls with rows of razor wire at the top. The only thing a prisoner could do in the small enclosed space was pace the perimeter or lean against the wall.

It was during that time that the guards used to torment Starsky. Some of them kicked him or beat him with their batons, while others laughed as they turned a high power water hose on him, drenching him with freezing water. The guards hated him because he was a cop just as much as the other prisoners did.

As the guard continued to beat him with his baton, Starsky curled up in a fetal position to try and protect the more vulnerable parts of his anatomy. He knew that any attempt to fight back would only bring him more pain so he lay there submissively until the guard grew tired of beating him and left him lying there under the glare of the noonday sun.

With a whimper, Starsky crawled over to the far corner of the enclosure and crouched there with his knees drawn up against his chest. His body ached from his latest beating. From painful experience, he knew that he would receive only minimal care for his injuries. He would be returned to his cell to suffer in silence until the injuries healed. He worried that eventually one of the guards would go too far and he would suffer irreversible damage. Some of the guards were more violent than the others but they all seemed to know just how far they could go without causing permanent damage.

The heat of the sun beat down on him, turning the skin on his forearms, neck and face red and leaving a painful burn. Starsky barely noticed. The pain of the sunburn was minimal compared to his other aches and pains. He sat there, huddled in his corner, until the guard returned to take him back to his cell.

"Come on, you piece of shit." The guard muttered under his breath as he grabbed Starsky's right arm and pulled him to his feet. "Time to get a shower and go back to your cell."

Starsky stumbled into the dim interior of the prison and down a long hallway that led to the shower room. The shower room was located in a remote area of the prison. It was a large, stark room with several shower heads built into the far wall. The water was never hot, it was lukewarm at best and sometimes freezing cold. The soap the prisoners had to use irritated Starsky's skin, stinging and burning any open cuts or wounds. He was only allowed one shower a week and he never felt entirely clean afterwards. His skin and his hair were both dry from the harsh soap he was forced to use.

The guard unlocked the door to the shower room and moved to one side as Starsky stepped through the doorway. With a thin smile, the guard put his hand between Starsky's shoulder blades and gave him a hard shove. Starsky stumbled forward and almost fell but managed to keep his balance.

"Strip." The guard ordered as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

Starsky slowly did as he was ordered, letting his dirty clothes fall to the floor at his feet. Vivid bruises in varying shades stood out on his back and stomach, his ribs clearly visible along his torso. His hipbones were just as prominent, mute evidence of his weight loss over the past few months.

Starsky turned on the faucets and leaned his palms against the cinder brick wall. He lowered his eyes and stared at the drain in the floor as the water fell over his head and shoulders. He was vaguely aware of the sound of the shower room door opening and closing. He raised his head in alarm sensing that he was no longer alone in the room. His heart began to pound in his chest as he heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind him.

Suddenly, he found himself surrounded by six of the biggest and meanest cons in the prison. Two of them Starsky was directly responsible for sending to this place. Before he could force his aching body to react, two of the men grabbed his arms and pinned him to the wall. He struggled in vain but he was no match for the other men. He was outweighed and out numbered.

He felt one of the other men pressing up against his back. A hand grabbed a fistful of curls and jerked his head back with a painful snap of his neck. A cold, deadly voice hissed in his ear, "You're not such a bad ass now are you, pig? You're just like the rest of us. Just another con."

"Fuck you!" Starsky ground out through tightly clenched teeth. He knew that he was in a dangerous and vulnerable position but he refused to go down without a fight, even if it was only with his mouth.

"No, baby…fuck you." The man hissed in his ear, followed by a chilling laugh. He thrust his hips against Starsky backside and the burnet felt the hardness of the other man's erection. Starsky began to struggle again even though he knew that getting raped was inevitable. He was lucky that he hadn't been subjected to that indignity yet but he had always known that it was only a matter of time.

The man behind him slammed Starsky's forehead against the wall, stunning him momentarily. Hard hands grabbed his hips, holding him in place and spreading apart his ass cheeks. A strangled scream ripped from Starsky's throat as the man penetrated him with one hard, thrust. The pain was horrendous. Starsky felt as if he was being ripped apart from the inside. Without giving him time to adjust to the pain, the man began to thrust as hard as he could, ripping and tearing the tender skin and muscles of Starsky's anus. Starsky's screams echoed off the barren walls of the room as the brutal attack continued relentlessly.

When the first inmate finished his brutal attack, a second man took his place. Starsky was unconscious when he was raped by the rest of the men. When they had finished, they walked out of the room, their laughter echoing in the hallway as the guard escorted them back to their cells. Once they were secured, the guard returned to the shower room and called for assistance to take Starsky's battered and broken body to the prison infirmary. It took over thirty stitches to repair the damage to Starsky's anus and rectum, along with ten stitches to close the gash in his forehead. He was heavily sedated and kept overnight in the infirmary. He was returned to his cell, still unconscious, the following morning.

It was late in the afternoon when Starsky finally opened his eyes. He awoke with a start, a strangled scream dying on his lips. With a moan deep in his chest, he slowly took stock of his newest injuries. The deep, burning pain in the center of his body was a constant reminder of what had happened to him. His head pounded like someone was inside his skull trying to beat their way out with a sledgehammer. The rest of his body ached with strained muscles and new bruises. He closed his eyes as a flush of shame and humiliation swept over him. His spirit had finally been broken beyond repair. Nobody could save him now. Not even Hutch. He was no longer a man, he was nothing but an empty shell waiting for death to free him from this place.