Chapter Twenty-Six: Broken
"Wake up, pretty boy."
The words cut through the fog of exhaustion and despair that clouded Oliver's mind. Surprised, he realised that he'd been sleeping – how long for he had no idea. Whether it had been minutes or hours, it didn't really matter; however briefly, his mind had escaped from the living nightmare that now threatened to overwhelm him. Physically, of course, there could be no escape, the manacles that shackled him to the wall of Lex's cell as secure as ever. Images of AC's face tumbled into his head, memories of the words of defiance he'd shouted as they'd dragged him away. They'd given him strength, the will to fight on, but now all that was gone. As his head began to clear he knew that despair, not courage, had grown stronger as he'd slept; the hopelessness that gnawed away at his soul was back, feeding on his exhaustion and sapping what remained of the spirit that had kept him going in the past when all had seemed lost.
"I said, wake up!"
There it was again – that voice. Oliver didn't respond; he remained motionless, his head lolling forwards onto his chest.
"Wake up, you fucking piece of shit!"
A hand grabbed Oliver's hair and jerked his head upwards, slamming his skull back against the wall. Oliver cried out in pain, his attempt to feign unconsciousness at an end.
"When I give you an order, boy, you fucking well obey it!" bawled Oliver's tormentor, so close he could smell stale cigarette smoke on the man's breath. Opening his eyes, Oliver found himself confronted by a thick-set man, well over six feet tall and dressed in the black uniform of a LuthorCorp guard. He glared at Oliver, his eyes flashing with hate; his face disfigured by a large burn that scared the entire left side of his face, he appeared like something out of a horror movie.
"Do you remember me, Queen?" he hissed, edging a little closer. Oliver could almost feel the man's pent up rage, the barely contained aggression that threatened to boil over at any moment. Wide awake now, he wracked his brain, trying to remember – who the hell was this guy?
"I said, do you remember me?" he asked again, this time grabbing Oliver by the throat and ramming his head against the wall for a second time.
"Answer me!" demanded the man, tightening his grip. Oliver stared wide-eyed at his attacker, unable to answer. He had no idea who he was, but instinctively he knew that whatever he said it didn't matter – this man was hellbent on hurting him, and nothing was going to stop that.
"I'm the guy you left for dead when you and your freaks attacked the 33.1 facility just outside of Carsville," he hissed. "Remember now, do you? Do you remember causing that fire that left me with this?"
He pointed to the scar on his face, his hand shaking with anger.
"I was months in the hospital, Queen, and you know what? All that time all I could think about was what I'd do to you if I ever had the chance."
Oliver said nothing. He knew what was coming – like countless other LuthorCorp employees, the man held a grudge against Oliver, and was hungry for revenge. Resigned to the beating he was about to suffer, part of him almost hoped that the man would kill him. Anything was better than the weeks, perhaps months of humiliation and torment that Lex had in store for him, all the time knowing that he'd lost the one thing that mattered more to him than any other – Chloe.
"And now here you are, the big hero all dressed up in his fancy leathers – not so tough now, are you Queen?" continued the guard, jeering at his captive. "Lex says we can't hurt you, but I never was very good at taking orders. You're mine now - and I'm going to fuck up that pretty face of yours."
Without warning he then punched Oliver straight in the face. The suddenness of the attack caught Oliver off guard, and he had no time to prepare himself; blood spurted from his nose, and within seconds the metallic taste of blood seeping from a cut to his lip filled his mouth.
"Did you like that, Queen? Did you?" asked the man, now so pumped up he could barely keep still. "Cos this is just the beginning – by the time I've finished with you your own mother won't recognise you!"
A second blow, much harder than the first. The man's fist caught the side of Oliver's face, causing his head to flip violently to the left. Dazed, Oliver struggled to focus; normally he would have been able to withstand the man's assault for longer, but hours of captivity had left him spent, both physically and emotionally.
A third punch, this time to his right cheek. Reeling, Oliver gasped in agony. Helpless, he hung like a rag doll from his chains, blood and saliva dribbling obscenely from his mouth. Unable to protect himself, all he could do was to pray for the blow that would knock him out – or worse…..
"That's enough!"
Oliver looked up. Chloe was standing in the doorway of the cell. Days earlier he would have welcomed her appearance, but not now; this was the new Chloe, the Chloe who had betrayed him, and who now wore a LuthorCorp uniform as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Lex made it clear he wasn't to be harmed – what the hell are you doing?"
She scowled at the guard. There wasn't a trace of compassion in her voice, no sense that she felt sympathy for her former lover; all she appeared interested in was a subordinate disobeying orders. Unable to bear what he was seeing, Oliver bowed his head. He'd lived in fear of this moment ever since he'd regained consciousness. Now it had arrived, he almost wanted the guard to start punching him again; anything was preferable to having to come face to face with the monster that now inhabited the body of the woman he loved.
"Your superiors will hear about this," continued Chloe, advancing on the guard. She was tiny in comparison to the other man, but it was clear who was in charge; the guard said nothing, almost appearing to wither under the intensity of her gaze.
"Now get out," she ordered. The man didn't need to be asked twice, and after a final glance at Oliver he hurried from the room.
Now the two of them were alone together. For what seemed like an eternity to Oliver, Chloe said nothing. Unwilling to look up, all he could see were her boots just a foot or so in front of him, polished to such a high shine he could almost see his reflection in them. Foolishly, for a fleeting moment he wondered if she'd come to rescue him after all, if she wasn't just waiting for the guard to leave before releasing him from his chains and telling him it was all going to be alright. It wasn't, of course; he knew she was there to hurt him, and what came next only served to confirm his worst fears.
"Look at me, Oliver."
She spoke quietly, softly – so softly he almost thought he could hear something of the old Chloe in her voice. Slowly, hopefully, he raised his head. Immediately his hopes were shattered; a pair of cold, heartless eyes stared back at him, accompanied by a smile of mocking contempt.
"Look at you!" she said, her smile widening as she looked at Oliver's bruised and bleeding face. "You're a mess, Oliver – and we can't have that, can we?"
Pulling a bottle of water from her tunic, she poured some over some tissues and then began to wipe away the blood from Oliver's nose and mouth. He said nothing, but instead put all his remaining energies into avoiding catching her gaze.
"Here, drink," she said, putting the bottle to Oliver's lips. He hesitated, before gulping the water down.
"Chloe," he gasped, as she drained the last few drops down his throat. "Chloe, please listen to…."
"Don't talk!" she snapped, slapping him hard across the face. It was like someone had flipped a switch inside her head; he had dared to challenge her, and her response was immediate and brutal.
"You're not in control anymore, Oliver – I am," she said angrily. "So you don't speak unless I say so, understand?" She was like some school yard bully, picking on the weak kid who couldn't protect himself.
Shaken, Oliver didn't respond. That was a mistake; she slapped him again, this time even harder.
"I said, do you understand?"
Oliver nodded. He felt sick; tears were welling up in his eyes, and it was all he could do to stop himself crying.
"What – did you think you were going to talk yourself out of those chains? That I was going to fall for that shit you fooled me with for all those months?" she continued. "Those days are over, Oliver. I know what you really are, what you've done – and I'm going to enjoy watching Lex make you pay."
Despite everything, Oliver was still taken aback by the venom in Chloe's words. There was hate there, a sadistic hate that seemed to revel in the thought of the hell Lex had planned for him. What she said made no sense, of course – Luthor's drugs had seen to that.
"I have to say, I like the new image," she continued, taking a step back. Her anger was fading, to be replaced by something altogether more callous, more calculating. "Tied up, beaten, bloodied – as looks go, this is seriously hot. Maybe we should get a photographer from one of those men's fashion magazines in here, the ones you love so much? He could do a great photoshoot – make a change from all those pictures of you in those Armani suits, wouldn't it?"
Oliver said nothing, but just stared at the ground. Chloe's cruelty was too much to bear; the tears were rolling down his cheeks now – desolate, anguished tears, the tears of a man who could take no more.
"Aww, don't cry!" said Chloe, gently taking him by the chin and lifting his head. She moved closer, so that her body touched his. He could feel the familiar contours of her body, smell the scent of her favourite perfume, the perfume that was one of the first gifts he had ever bought her.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, forcing her hands between his body and the wall. Pulling him tighter, she began to kiss him – first on the neck, then on the face and lips. They were rough, brutal kisses, her lips seeming to feast on his bruised and battered skin. Appalled, Oliver stood rooted to the spot, helpless as she forced herself on him. Tears ran down his face as memories of the precious times they had spent together filled his mind, memories that were now to be soiled forever. For there was no love in these kisses, nothing of the intimacy they had shared in the past. These kisses were about power, about control. She wanted to hurt him, violate him, and she knew that nothing would serve her purpose better than to remind him of the life he had lost.
"What's the matter, Oliver?" she said breathlessly, her lips hovering next to his. "You used to like it when I kissed you. What's wrong? Don't you like it now I'm in control?"
"Chloe, no…!" he begged, his voice cracking with emotion.
"What – you want me to stop?" she said. "Okay, Oliver, I'll stop – but not before I've let you in on a little secret."
Still breathing hard, she moved closer to whisper in his ear.
"You remember all those times we were together, Oliver? All those times we made love? When I said you were amazing, I was lying." She paused; she wanted him to have time to digest what she was saying, time to prepare for what was to come next. "And do you know something else, Oliver? Whenever we were together, whenever you were inside me, I wasn't thinking about you:
I was thinking about Clark."
She stepped back, eager to enjoy the impact of her words on the stricken hero. Oliver stared back at her, blinking back the tears through red, swollen eyes. She smiled. Lex had been right; those few short words had hurt him more than any torture could ever do.
"No…. no, you don't mean that," he sobbed, searching her face for something – anything – that might offer him some comfort.
"Oh, but I do, Oliver," she said, a twisted smile forming on her lips. "I never loved you, Oliver – not even when I believed in you. You were just an easy fuck – nothing more, nothing less. I've always loved Clark, and now, thanks to Lex, he's finally mine."
She'd chosen her words carefully, crafted them into a weapon deadlier than any knife. She wanted to hurt him, and the heartless, almost casual way in which she trashed the relationship that they'd shared had done that as surely as if she'd thrust a dagger straight into his heart. It didn't matter that he knew this wasn't Chloe, that this was Lex's drugs talking; her words still cut him to his very core. Perhaps it was because they played on his fears, on the suspicion he'd always harbored that deep down Chloe's bond to Clark was something more than friendship. Was Lex right after all? Did his so-called treatment simply release feelings and emotions that had long since been repressed?
"Miss Sullivan."
Chloe turned. Two LuthorCorp guards stood in the doorway.
"Yes? What is it?"
"Everything's ready – Mr Luthor says we're to bring the prisoner now."
Chloe turned back to Oliver. "Do you hear that, Oliver? Guess we'll have to finish this little catch-up another time."
She stood aside, allowing the guards room to do their work. Quickly they unchained Oliver from the wall, before forcing his arms behind his back and tying his hands together. Oliver offered no resistance; reeling from the viciousness of Chloe's assault, he appeared in a daze.
"Now, let's have a look at you," said Chloe when eventually the guards finished their work. She stood in front of him, looking him up and down. Hunched forwards, he looked a shadow of his former self, as if Chloe's words had sucked what was left of his spirit right out of him.
"Cheer up, Oliver!" she said. "Lex has got some great entertainment lined up, and I just know you're going to love it! Just one thing we need to do before we go, I think."
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a roll of duct tape. Tearing a strip off, she pressed it down hard over Oliver's mouth, stretching it taut so that the outline of his lips could just be made out through the silver grey fabric. It was the final humiliation, a last act of petty brutality from a woman who for well over a year had meant all the world to him.
"There – perfect!" she smirked. "We wouldn't want you spoiling the party, now would we? And believe me – Lex has got one hell of a party lined up for us, one I think you're going to remember for a very long time!"
Poor Ollie - how much more can we put him through? Actually, quite a lot - just wait until you read the next chapter... *evil laugh*
Hope you liked this one. As you can see, I'm really piling on the angst - but we wouldn't have it any other way, right? The next chapter is going to be full of drama, but it won't be posted for a few weeks - real life getting in the way again.
Thanks so much for all your continuing support - it really does mean a huge amount. Interesting to read your thoughts about who might die, but I haven't changed my mind - one, maybe two, of our heroes will not survive this story, and no one, I mean NO ONE, is off limits. Please do review if you can - feedback matters so much!