Demon Within

By: SweetSuicide41

Disclaimer: I do not own, Jak, Torn, Daxter, or any other characters, scenes and places depicted in Jak and Daxter, or Jak II.

Prologue

My name is Jak, not that it really matters...not really. Not anymore. I doubt I'm ever going to meet anyone again who cares what my name is.... Not really. I have greenish-blonde hair, and blue eyes...not that you care...or maybe you do. I don't know, and I really couldn't give a shit right now. I'm sixteen, and I don't talk...ever.... That's right, that's why you aren't looking at me, or paying any attention to what I'm saying, because you can't hear me. I'm just pretending that you can for the sake of things. That's why it doesn't matter what I tell you, and what you care about, because you aren't hearing anything at all that I say. Pity. I really could use the companionship.....

You see, I have been captured, and put in a cage, and I think I'm going to die here because it seems as if they plan on starving me. I don't know what is going on, and I really don't think I want to yet. Not yet....because sometime soon I'm going to have to think about it....I just don't want to right now.

Daxter was yelling out at me as they captured me. He told me that I'll be out of here in no time. This is only day three. I believe in him , and his cunning. Even though he doesn't often show it, he can be extremely smart.

Two Years Later

It's dark, cold, and I'm hungry....three of the four things that I have slowly gotten used to over time. I don't want to think about the fourth. It being the most unpleasant. I've been here for two years, and Daxter still hasn't come for me. I still don't talk, and the guards still don't feel at ease around me. They won't look into my eyes, which I keep clouded so that the Baron can't tell what my true emotions are. He can't tell until he.... Well, you'll find out soon enough I suppose. I don't know if I'm imagining you or not, because you haven't talked to me, but you may think that you are imagining me too, because I have made no move to greet you.

It looks as if you've been here for a while too, and they just threw you in another cell. I guess that means that you already know what happens when day breaks for me. I'm sure that you were one of the privileged ones let in to watch my pain at least once. The Baron is such a sadist that it almost makes me laugh sometimes.

I think that's the reason why the guards never look in my eyes. They might be afraid of what lies within, because something that wasn't there before is there now....I can't really explain it, but it seems as if there is more than one of me, and the other tells me how to react to certain situations that I don't want to face. He kinda surfaces and faces them for me. I think he's insane, or as close as you can come to it without being actually actually insane, whatever that is. Of course I can't really say anything while I'm sitting here silently talking to someone that I'm pretty sure I made up....Who knows, maybe I am insane....it beats sanity in this place any day. At least it gives me something to do.

Someone's walking down the hall, I can tell who it is by the weight, and pace of the footsteps. Him, he's coming for me. He always comes around now. Right after my stomach starts to growl for the next meal. Sometimes he gives me food, and sometimes he hooks me up to his machine. Neither gets me really emotional anymore. The emotions wore off long ago.... Too long ago. I can vaguely remember that someone is supposed to come for me in no time, but his name eludes me...Dasher...Daxter maybe. I think that's it. We were good friends once, and never faced anything without each other. But here I am alone now. I suppose it's for the better since Daxter would likely stop being his good old self. He talked a lot, and made me laugh at his antics....I don't think I'll laugh at anything other than the Baron's sadism from now on.

I was right, it was him, and he was not here to feed me. They never fed me until after the treatments on the days that I got them. They gave me food afterwards, when I was too sick to eat it, and the rats got to it before I did. I tried fighting them off sometimes, but I just feel to sick after the treatments, and I usually just lay down on the floor, and sleep until I wake up.

By the way, I don't sleep very well anymore either. Just thought that you might like to know. No one in this place can sleep well. The screams from the other prisoners here haunt my dreams, and I imagine that it's me hooked to the machine. Me receiving the Dark Eco the Baron so loves to pump into his prisoners. We are his personal little experiments, and no one in their right mind would defy him....But I'm no longer in my right mind am I?

The Baron entered my cell, performed his ritual greeting, which was a kick in the ribs. I doubt that mine have ever been fully healed from the moment that I entered this place to now. At least they feel continually bruised. When he kicked me I started laughing. I couldn't help it. The expression on his face as he kicked me was priceless. He sort of looked as if he got off on the whole experience. When I started laughing at him he looked at me startled, then kicked me again, harder this time. He was probably hoping to wipe that insane look on my face. I started laughing harder. He kicked me again, in the shoulder this time, and much harder. I think that he dislocated it.

"Get him up, and hook him up to the machine," the Baron said to someone outside of the cell.

The man came into my meager cell and yanked me up, sending a shock of pain through my shoulder again. He prodded me in the back with a small gun. It might not look imposing, but it certainly hurt when the beam burned through your skin, leaving not a bullet, but just a large bloody hole. I had two on the left side of my torso, and one on the right. Every time I tried to escape I ended up half bleeding to death back in my cell.

But I wasn't going to stop trying to escape just because of a little thing like that. Hence the fact that I was shot three times instead of just once. I guess I'm not too smart, or am I? I mean the guards never change their routine, and every time I try to leave I get a little farther than the last.... One day I will escape, and when I do I'm going to come back for revenge on the man who kept me imprisoned. Praxis was going to pay, preferably by a very slow death behind bars in which every day he would wish would be his last. Just like me.....Just like me.