Kevin had been expecting thumbscrews, or knives, or at least bamboo splinters. As far as torture, Kevin had experienced more suffering than this while deciphering certain thematic elements for his AP English finals. His demon watchers had taken his goo-coated clothes and allowed him privacy so he could take a shower in the shabby workstation of an abandoned factory of some sort. When Kevin got out finding pre-warmed, pajamas waiting for him, he scrutinized them before dressing himself slowly; he wanted to be alone for as long as was possible. There was even a bath robe and slippers. There was also a candy dish on the counter. Clearly they were trying to lure him into a false sense of security…or trying to drug him. It wasn't working.
Two days later, a demon sat him down at a chair and left him there. Kevin heard the sound of boots behind him, convinced it was his torturer about to bore into the back of his neck with some sort of drill. It was actually a lady in her...mid-twenties? She sat a plate down with food piled high, and her eyes didn't flash. Was she...was she human? What was she doing here?! Was she some sort of bargaining chip or maybe even a hostage? "Are you...are you human?"
"Yeah."
"C-Can you stay while I eat?" Kevin asked, desperately. "I haven't had human contact in…a long time," he said, almost getting choked up. It was only two days, but it was the longest two days he'd ever had to experience.
The lady smirked and sat on the table to his left. "Sure, I'm guessing these goons aren't much for chit chat. They never are."
Kevin frowned. "Are you a prisoner?"
"Nope," she said, taking a bread roll. "What made you think that?"
"Y-You mean you stay here of your own free will? W-Why"
"She's my little incubator." Kevin tensed at the sound of Crowley's voice. It was terrifying to watch him stalk over and start twisting a piece of the woman's hair. He was certain he'd snap at any moment to kill her, but the woman seemed unfazed. "Get lost, sweet cheeks. I need to talk with our…guest," he said, and she obeyed him, taking his meal away. Suddenly Kevin felt more vulnerable.
Kevin's heart leapt when he touched the tablet; it felt like being reunited with a missing piece of himself. The glyphs still quaked and made his head pound with the effort of trying to steady them, but that didn't matter to him. He was with the tablet. He was fulfilling his Purpose. This was...like he was Gollum and this was his beloved Precious. Suddenly, the little impish book character didn't seem so insane after all. Kevin was in the same boat. He read for several minutes aloud to Crowley, but he was trying to take his time. Stall...he needed to stall for a little while longer. Surely Sam would come and rescue him. He promised he wouldn't let anything bad happen to him…said he'd get to see his mom again.
When his handlers took him away, Kevin felt at a loss, a yawning ache in his stomach as if he were starving. The room where he slept was oddly warm and comfortable for being the warehouse' old office with stains on the foam-square ceiling and a busted ventilation grate, but Kevin couldn't relax. He wanted…no, he needed the tablet. He was visited again by the woman; she was like some sort of angel in a dark place as she gave him alcohol to settle his frayed nerves. He stared at her bloody cuts and her black eye and gulped back fear. How could she not be a prisoner?
When sleep came, Kevin's dreams were depressing. They were of the bustle of his academic life. They were of what could have been. Crowley's voice was saying a soothing mantra through it all: You can have anything you desire, Kev.
When he next woke, Kevin Tran felt trapped. Claustrophobic. Kevin hated it. They took him to begin translating immediately this time with small breaks in between. Gosh. Just touching the tablet gave him chills. As each day passed him by, he became more and more depressed. He wanted to see his mother. He wanted a change of scenery. The only times he felt a little reprieve were when he could talk to the woman. He'd beg for information...for escape, but she would change the subject and ignore his pleas. Then when he slept, he dreamt of hearing Crowley's voice again and again. Dark. The familiar taste of blood in his mouth. Days of dried sweat course beneath his shirt. Footsteps. They were wearing him down. A knife came close to his face but didn't cut. It just hovered like a wasp. "Let's try this again, Kevin."