Author's Note: probably should've put this one up first, it's a deleted and extended scene from the next chapter. Upon deciding it wasn't important enough to show Yannis' perspective in a scene just reiterating already known information I went to put it in my half-finished Extra document and got annoyed how many there were so I'm clearing it out before finishing the chapter so expect two more in the next week or so. Also thanks so much to lacyowens50 for your reviews!

Early July 2024, (IIX: Chapter 31)

Yannis stood at the kitchen sink, monotonously washing up the dishes from James' breakfast and resisting the urge to yawn. He was tired enough his eyes were stinging but James would be leaving soon enough for his Inferi training session with Stephan, long as the session wasn't cut short for some reason he'd be able to rest then and maybe make himself something to eat too. That was after James left though, he wasn't safe until then.

As if on cue he heard James heave a sigh from the other room, he glanced back through the entranceway to the front room of the apartment. He had the perfect view of James sitting at the dining table, he had his head propped up on one hand while the other was holding up a hand mirror to survey the scar he'd recently required and continued to obsess over. Yannis wasn't sure why, slaves were all given more prominent scars and James of all people mutilated his victims far worse for fun so he had no right to complain. He would though, James was nothing if not selfish. Selfish and cruel. James scowled and put down the mirror, mirror side down.

"Yannis, did you finish polishing those new knives I bought the other day?" James called out and Yannis flinched inwardly.

"Yes, Master James," Yannis answered back obediently, drying his hands and trying to mentally brace himself for whatever horrible thing James was planning to do to him now.

"Bring them to me."

"Yes, Master James."

Yannis resisted the urge to sigh and reluctantly went to get the knives, lined up neatly in a rack that James had transfigured. He picked up the rack and carried it back into the front room because it was easier, James had pulled out his chair facing away from the table and he was now grinning, that wasn't good. Yannis placed the rack of knives carefully on the table beside James, keeping his face impassive so he wouldn't see his fear, James liked fear.

"Sit down," James commanded and Yannis pulled out a chair for himself, facing away from the table like James was and making sure to slouch because James didn't like that he'd grown taller than him now. He'd picked up one of the knives - some kind of long, sharp shiny kitchen knife - which he was toying with idly and eying it eagerly, "It's funny, even though I know spells that can do the same thing or worse, I just love how a knife feels in my hand, you know?"

"No, Master James," Yannis answered bluntly and truthfully, James' eyes immediately snapped away from the knife and his brows furrowed in annoyance.

"That's just because you're a slave, Yannis, you can't understand anything," James snapped irritably before cheering up again, "There's a much better job for you anyway before these knives need testing, I want to know which is the most painful so I'm going to cut you with each of them and you need to rank them for me."

"Do you really have time to do that right now, Master James? You have to meet Steph-" Yannis tried to say but was cut off as James smacked him hard across the face. He deserved that, he knew better then to think that' time would stop him.

"Don't question me, Yannis! We have time when I say we have time," James snarled and held out his free hand, "Now roll up your sleeve and give me your arm."

Yannis reluctantly rolled up his right sleeve, that arm was already bruised and scarred but his other arm was still bandaged. He held it out to James who grabbed his wrist roughly as if to ensure he couldn't pull away, Yannis didn't resist, he'd learned that only make James hurt him worse.

"So this is knife number one, Yannis," James informed him slowly and with emphasis, holding it up briefly to make sure he saw before slicing across his arm.

Yannis grit his teeth against the pain though the first cut wasn't that deep, James moved the blade further up and pressed down much harder for the second cut. James then went back to the first cut and sliced into it again, and again, and again. Yannis' arm flinched – or tried to, James still held it firmly in place – the last time, and James finally moved the blade away. The damage was done though, the blood was now running freely from the wounds down the sides of his arms like tiny crimson waterfalls.

"Must've nicked the superficial muscle there," James mused, smiling with sadistic delight as placed the first knife down and instead picked up a serrated knife, his other hand continued to hold him tight, "I bet my dad would be impressed I know that, I never cared much for biology but you learn a surprising amount about anatomy when you do a lot of work as a torturer and it's so much more interesting to learn like this."

James brought the blade down swiftly, cutting roughly through his arm beside the other wounds and Yannis couldn't help but utter a strangled gasp of pain. He sensed rather than saw James smile but he couldn't help it, the jagged teeth tore the skin very painfully acting more like a saw. He grit his teeth again, trying to brace himself better as James continued the serrated slicing until he again seemed to cut the muscle eliciting a spasm.

"And that was knife number two, Yannis, knife number two," James told him after a few minutes when he finally stopped, holding up the bloody blade to show him before switching to the next knife which was some kind of hunting knife, "This one is knife number three."

Yannis closed his eyes, not really wanting or needing to watch his arm's butchery and they still had seven knives to go. He could still feel the pain as the knife bit into his flesh over and over again, he felt the blood flowing down his arm from the searing cuts because James wouldn't even treat the wounds. He knew it was irrational to think about since there was surely no way every single person suffering because of the Soul Eaters could deserve it and the truth was life just didn't care because it wasn't fair, however he still kept wondering what he'd done so wrong to deserve all this.

"You have such pretty eyes, Yannis, keep them open so I can see," James insisted and Yannis begrudgingly forced his eyes back open while his insides squirmed uncomfortably, James' compliments were just as much reason to be afraid as his threats. He'd also opened his eyes just in time to witness the deep slice that cut through his muscle to spasm his arm. James put that knife down and picked up the next one, some kind of horribly twisted thick blade that looked very painful, "One of these days I really must test how these do cutting right down to your bone, not for today though. Anyway, this is knife number four…"

Yannis stared off at an unassuming patch of dark navy carpet to pretend his eyes were closed, pretend he wasn't here, pretend he wasn't suffering. He grit his teeth and just tried to endure the pain as best he could as James cut into his arm over and over, just over and over again.

"…Okay, so this little number is knife number five now, it's small but sharp so it should really be able to dig in real good…"

He'd look back occasionally, mostly to make sure he could identify each knife because he was near certain James would legitimately expect an answer on which hurt worse. As if it really mattered in the grand scheme of things, it mattered to James though.

"… And here we have knife number six, I'm not entirely sure what the holes are for but they look cool and the blade has this nice curve to it…"

It was almost a marvel to catch a glimpse of James to see the way his whole face lit up, the slight smile tugging the corners of his lips, the delight dancing in his eyes. He was calm, he was happy, this fun for him, this relaxed him.

"… Now here is knife number seven, its thicker than you think and that hook bit at the end looks like a lot of fun…"

You didn't even have to see his face, the excitement shone through with each syllable he spoke in his stupid whiny voice. He sounded so genuinely passionate, if you couldn't speak English you probably thought he was talking about some kind of hobby he really cared about.

"… More of a dagger really, this being knife number eight, nothing wrong with a dagger though…"

And then Yannis would look down at his bloody arm and wonder just what the hell was wrong with James that he could enjoy this, how could you get pleasure from torturing people? It wasn't even like this wasn't even the worst he'd done. He knew it was another of those irrational thoughts, truth was James was just a monster.

"… Now here's a big one, knife number nine…"

Yannis yelped in pain and glanced briefly, seeing James had violently brought a cleaver down on his arm, James smirked. He was starting to feel lightheaded now from the blood loss, it was gushing out of him now. It did help with his attempts to zone out though, if your head felt like it was floating off it made his agonized anchor of a body feel more unreal and far away.

"… Then last but not least, knife number ten, a good old straight back," James continued cheerfully and started cutting into him with the last knife, kinda glad James was holding his arm because he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it up himself now. Again, James didn't stop until he sliced the muscle and his arm spasmed, he didn't let him go though. Idly, he wondered whether James noticed or cared that his hand was soaked in blood from holding his arm in place, "So there we have it, Yannis, and now I'd like you to rank them in order of most painful to least."

"Two, four, nine, five, eight, three, seven, ten, six, one," Yannis informed him carefully, it was semi-true but the focus was more on just what was memorable because James would expect him to recall it exactly.

"Ah right, interesting, interesting. So first it was this one," James mused, bobbing his head thoughtfully as he picked up the second knife, slicing painfully into a different part of his arm. He then switched it out for the fourth knife, digging the blade back in beside the fresh cut, "And then it was this one..."

This was the part Yannis had to pay attention, any discrepancy in the order he'd given and James would start the entire torture session again. And he would keep repeating it as many times as it took until Yannis could give a consistent order, James could play these kind of games for hours and passing out just earned a brutal beating for punishment then the session would continue with blood-replenishing potion if necessary.

"Then it was this one," James continued but instead of the cleaver, he picked up the fifth blade.

"No, Master James, it was nine and then five," Yannis corrected him, one of the few times correcting him was not a punishable offense.

"Ah right, my mistake," James lied as he went for the cleaver instead.

James did these things frequently to make sure Yannis was paying attention to the order, you could tell if he ever actually made a real mistake because then he'd fly into a rage at his slave daring to correct him and fervently deny any wrongdoing. James made a further two 'mistakes' as he went through the rest of the knives which Yannis corrected, only after cutting him with each knife in the other Yannis had given was he finally satisfied. It was also only then that he let go of his arm and as Yannis had predicted, his arm dropped like a stone and he had to hold it with his other hand.

He barely had time to look back up before James kissed him hard on the mouth, his instinct was to recoil but James wrapped his hand roughly around the back of Yannis' head. Yannis didn't kiss him back though, that was a minor act of denial he allowed for himself, his protest that he did not agree to this. Not that it mattered because James didn't really believe in consent, if you resisted or objected you were clearly either in denial of your true feelings or incapable of having feelings so it didn't matter, what James wanted was the only thing that mattered.

"Fuck's sake, Yannis!" James spat irritably as he pulled away, instead striking him across the jaw. He may be shorter then him but he was also stronger, he hit hard, "Kiss me back! How many times do I have to tell you?! When I kiss you, I expect you to kiss me back, okay!? You're so bad at kissing, honestly."

"Yes, Master James," Yannis muttered unhappily and this time was forced to comply when James kissed him, though since he'd never had a real kiss before he still wasn't sure if he was doing right.

James seemed satisfied though as he continued to kiss him, even going so far as to snake his slobbery tongue into his mouth. It wasn't physically painful at least but it did make him feel sick, his insides squirmed uncomfortably though mostly he was terrified of James going further. After a few minutes however James pulled away, Yannis' heart raced in fear as James gently caressed his cheek with the hand covered in Yannis' own blood. Ultimately though, James sighed and stood.

"I must go for my Inferi training now, we'll have to continue this some other time," James decided as he took out his wand, waving it over himself to vanish the blood from his hand and any he'd gotten on his clothing, "Have the rest of this cleared up by the time I get back, I also think I'm in the mood for some chocolate mousse for dessert later on so make sure you do that later."

"Yes, Master James," Yannis assured him obediently to which James gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement before striding to the door and exiting the apartment, he heard a pop to indicate his master's disapparation.

It was only then that Yannis allowed himself to let out the relived breath he hadn't realizing he'd been holding, he was finally safe… for a little while. He got to his feet, stopping a moment to acclimate to the wave of dizziness it caused before heading to the bathroom quickly. His arm was still very bloody and still bleeding after all, he wished this wasn't normal to him now.

He turned on the faucet and put his injured arm under it, allowing the cool water to start draining off the blood. With his uninjured arm he opened the cabinet, taking out the tub of salve Siberius had given him and placing it on the edge. He took the lid off ready before taking up a wash cloth to help the water clean the wounds, it was awkward as he had to attempt to be firm but gentle at the same time. It was a balance of not wanting to aggravate the tender wounds being too rough but also needing to put enough strength into it to get rid of the blood that had dried, he thought he'd gotten pretty good at it.

After a few minutes of cleaning the wounds, he took a glob of the unnaturally cold translucent salve and rubbed it along the columns of cuts, massaging it in- especially to the deeper wounds. It was a potion to stop bleeding after all, Siberius said it also helped preserve it until it could be properly healed. Of course James didn't really allow proper healing unless he'd injured him too severely or sometimes if he got impatient waiting for something to heal, however Siberius could get away with healing the deeper injuries – such as the muscle damage in this case - as long as he left enough superficial damage to leave a scar. James loved seeing the scars he inflicted, he ran his hands over each of them every night and marveled how good they felt to the touch.

Yannis shuddered, and not from the cold gel, as he put the lid back on the tub and took out a modified perfume bottle instead. This one was basically an anti-septic potion and he sprayed it across his arm, gritting his teeth a little at how it made the wounds sting more than a little. He wasn't entirely sure if or how wizard anti-septic was better than what muggles used but he wasn't going to look the only gift horse he had in the mouth, especially when said gift horse was a trained and experienced professional healer while he was just a sixteen year old kid.

He let out a breath as the pain eased off, the cold salve also helping to numb it and finally took out a fresh bandage to wrap around his injured arm. He secured the bandage then saw to putting back his medical supplies, he was sure to need them again. He supposed it was own fault really, this was what he got for helping that guy which had ultimately led to the escape and James' injury. He still wasn't sure why he'd bothered, it wasn't like he actually believed his grand claims of stopping the Shadows, he'd have said anything to get out of that dungeon. He just couldn't help pitying victims of the Shadows, he was stuck feeling and a strange kind of guilt just because he was there. Or maybe it was just because enslavement was just so engrained into him by this point he couldn't help but do as he was told by a wizard, that was the only reason he was even still alive. He'd been a well-behaved kid and now he made for an obedient slave, the brave people who resisted were slaughtered while he survived because he was weak and just did as he was told.

He supposed in truth it didn't really matter, James would've just hurt him anyway. That was problem with having a sadist for a master, how James treated him when he was in a bad mood was really no different to how he treated him when he was in a good mood. If his family were even still alive, he hoped they were treated kinder then he was. As his little sister was young she was probably still just being brainwashed and his dad had been abroad so hopefully was still free, he feared for his mother though.

He finished bandaging his arm and held it up for inspection, satisfied the bandage was secure he then tested the muscle damage by trying to perform a variety of movements with the injured appendage. It was painful to move it in some ways- he'd guess it was aggravating the damaged muscles- as well as non-responsive, the movements he could do were much stiffer and clunkier than normal. He supposed he'd just have to hope he didn't require many fine motor skills before he next saw Siberius. It didn't even feel like his arm anymore but then that wasn't new, none of his body felt like it was his anymore, he barely even felt like a person anymore let alone like himself. He supposed that was because he wasn't, as James had so aptly carved seven times now: he was just his property, he was nothing more than a slab of meat that James could beat, burn, choke, cut, fuck or whatever else at his leisure. It didn't make him cry, not anymore. Mostly now he just wanted to die, or for James to die but he knew he wasn't that lucky.

He closed the medicine cabinet and sighed hopelessly as it became a mirror, the reflection may have the same general features and dark curly hair but he definitely saw a stranger staring back at him with dead eyes and once olive skin now tinged black and yellow from semi-healed bruises. The swelling was down at least so that was a plus, for now anyway because he was starting to get a fat lip where James had hit him a few minutes ago. It ached a bit but he knew it'd be fine, he also took the opportunity to wash the blood off his face where James had touched his cheek.

Successfully having dealt with himself, Yannis moved onto the front room. He collected some supplies before returning to the table, wiping his own blood off the instruments of his suffering. He replaced them on the rack and carried them back to their resting place, they weren't that heavy but they were heavy enough to make him stumble from his dizziness, he had lost a fair amount of blood. He reluctantly took a few swigs of blood-replenishing potion to offset it, he didn't like taking it because a part of him kept irrationally hoping if he didn't that one of these days he'd just run out of blood then James finally wouldn't be able to hurt him anymore.

Returning to the front room, he scrubbed the bloodstains out of the carpet and wiped away anything else that had gotten on the furniture. He still probably needed to give the carpet a more thorough clean than that but as long as the stain was no longer noticeable, it could wait until a time where he was less exhausted. He put away the cleaning supplies, checked to make sure he had the ingredients for James' dessert then finally put his bloody slave robes in the wash and crawled into bed.

His 'bed' which was more of a cot barely off the ground wedged in the corner of the laundry room, it wasn't much and it wasn't comfortable but it was far better than being forced to share a bed with James. He reached out and set his alarm clock for roughly an hour before the time James usually returned from these training sessions, James didn't like him to be sleeping when he got back so he tried to avoid. Only then did he finally allow his eyes to close, thankful at least the tiredness meant he would fall into sleep easily. And then it wouldn't hurt anymore, he'd be safe for a little while in the blissful nothingness. He just wished he wouldn't wake up.