Prologue: 25th September 2003
"The monster in the dark gets us all eventually."
– Unknown
His eyes are closed. Face grimaced against the pain, the repetitive thud of his legs and stomach against the table beneath him, his arms wrenching every time Delaney moves, propelling him forward. He's given up any hope of being saved. Every so often, amidst the tears, the bubbles of snot, sounds splutter through his tightening lips, whimpers. Whines. Gasps and groans of pain. Sobs of shame through gritted teeth.
The bastard feeds on it.
He enjoys it.
Vile whisperings crawl into his ear. Dirty, disgusting, embarrassing threats.
Promises.
Delaney carries out every single one. Slowly and gleefully.
As roughly as possible.
Time stretches out as Delaney continues his torture.
And when he's finished, there's a rip of a zip behind him and he's left to his final humiliation.
Strewn across the table, half clothed and brutalised.
A mess of blood, sweat, tears and the stench of sex.
Delaney's left him to be rescued.
Mickey wants to vomit.
No one can find him like this.
The skin around his wrists is raw and bloodied by the time he twists his hands free.
It's a painstakingly long process.
The floor feels like ice beneath him, the rope still dangles from the vice.
Mickey gags, the sick stringy with bile.
He stays slumped where he landed. His body aching, but inside there's something dark brewing. He welcomes the shock setting in.
His fingers are numb, thick, and useless as he fumbles with his jeans, hitching them slowly upwards until they cover the bare flesh.
Mickey struggles too much with the button and finally leaves it open, the fly exposes his boxers, and he pulls his knees close to his chest, hugging them tight, grasping for whatever scrap of dignity he has left.
He sits as the warehouse darkens further, unable to bring himself to move. Listens to a drip somewhere in a corner.
Tries to comprehend what just happened.
What Delaney's done to him.
He won't label it.
He can't.
It doesn't happen to male coppers.
He's going to make sure no one ever finds out it did.
Until Smithy calls his name and brings any hope of denial crashing down around him.
