I should warn you...this chapter is a bit brutal. I didn't like having to write it...but it's short, at least.
Chapter Five
Erik opened his eyes slowly and found he was lying face down on the stone floor. The room was in total darkness, but he sensed that it was very small. And very cold.
It seemed as if his body had been taken away from him and replaced with the purest pain.
He was so thirsty...so very thirsty. He'd asked for some water, but there had been nothing but grating laughter. Laughter followed by the silence.
The floor was wet...the water was probably filthy, but it didn't matter to him. The thirst was too much.
Twisting his head downward, he touched his mout to the warm, shallow puddle. And tasted...not water...but blood.
Fighting against nausea, he ease himself onto his back.
Whose blood is it...mine...some other poor soul...
He couldn't remember the past few hours. Or were they days now. Perhaps it was a blessing that he could not.
He heard someone moan in agony. For a monent, he wondered if someone else was in the room with him. Then he recognized his own voice.
Christine...Christine...
He bit his lips...not against the pain, but to keep himself from calling out her name. He wouldn't betray her...if they knew about her...they might try to use her...to force him to tell things he didn't even know...
Christine...
Even as he fought to keep silent, he knew his soul was screaming for her through the torment of his body.
Even the clang and echo of the iron door couldn't drown out that cry.
Christine...
A heavy boot dug into his bruised ribs.
"Get this garbage up...move him."
Two pairs of rough hands grabbed him and hauled him up from the floor.