Hummmmm. Can't remember if I gave that part to beta, well, let me know if there are biiiiiiiig mistakes in it!
Oh, and thanks for the reviews!
ooOoo
Friday 29 May 1998
08:13 AM
Consciousness didn't return gently, it brought suffering with awareness. Shooting pain lanced through his skull matching his pounding heartbeat and making every breath torture. His stomach was in turmoil, threatening to expel its content at any instant. Blair heard little whimpering noises in the background and was not too surprised to find that they were coming from him.
He slowly tried to open his eyes but squeezed them shut almost immediately, his face withering in pain. In fact, it didn't matter that they were open or not. Blair knew very well what he would see and it wasn't a real pleasant view: four dirty walls, a bare room, a little window far above the ground.
The sedative he was given every evening to put him out for the night was making him sick. His body had little tolerance for drugs. He didn't do drugs very well and this one was pretty hard on him. It had been ten days now since he had first awakened in this place. And every awakening had brought pain.
Though, this time there was little improvement as he hadn't lost his last meal … yet. If you could called a bowl of cold soup a meal.
He tried to shift his position on the bed, but the restraints didn't give him much room. Yeah, he was sedated and restrained on the bed every evening. Absolutely and utterly overkill.
Blair sighed heavily and almost started in fear.
Shshshshshshsh, stay quiet, stay quiet, don't make a sound, and maybe, maybe they won't come in this time.
But yet again, his prayers went unanswered as the door banged opened and four men entered in.
They wore black from head to toe: black balaclavas, black turtleneck, black pants and black gloves. Blair could barely see their eyes in the dim light of the room as he tracked their movements. The men were big and looked like some kind of militaries or mercenaries; Blair felt more than a little overwhelmed by their show of brute strength.
It was a little unnerving too to see them move so silently despite their huge bulk. In fact, he had never heard them make any concrete sound. Not even a scratch.
And none of the men had ever said a word to him.
In the beginning, he had tried to use his usual and unfortunately only weapon: talking. But while they had him pinned effortlessly on the bed, on his belly, his hands bound tightly behind his back, one of them had just put his hands around his throat and had applied pressure on his larynx, efficiently cutting off his plea for answers. The hand had disappeared just as quickly when Blair had began to trash wildly, consciousness threatening to fade from lack of oxygen.
He had tried not to speak anymore. But it was a hard lesson to be taught.
The last few times he hadn't been able to stop himself were very fresh. His throat was certainly sporting blue and purple proof of it and for some time now it felt like he was wheezing more than breathing.
So now, he didn't talk, moan, whisper or plead anymore. In fact, he didn't make any noise at all.
He had to be silent. A silent captive. A non existent captive.
These men just didn't seem to act like he was here at all.
It was like he was just a commodity, or more realistically a task for them. He was something they had to do, not someone they had to take care of. The same routine was repeated every day, clinically, with cold efficacy, without giving a shit about his feelings or his needs.
And now they were here again.
The thought of them made him shiver; his breathing coming suddenly in short gasps. God! He was beginning to hyperventilate.
Notnownotnownotnow, Calm down, Calm down.
He may have lost the control of his body to those emotionless men but he wouldn't give them the pleasure of giving up his mind and spirit.
I hadn't had the right to give up, Jim wouldn't want me to.
Jim. The thought of his friend gave him strength.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, took large lungful of air to try and to calm his breathing and willed himself to endure the next hour.
The padded straps that were buckled around his hands and waist were the first one to go. He was put in a sitting position on the bed, hands forcibly restrained behind his back. Then, the men went with the straps around his ankles. His limbs felt numb after having passed the night strapped down to the bed but they didn't give him time to stretch them.
Huge, strong hands gripped his arms and hauled him up to his feet. He was stripped down efficiently and ruthlessly. His hands were tied behind his back with some leather straps and he was led stumbling to the little bathroom in the corner of the room.
He was standing over a toilet now.
White porcelain. Little pool of black water. Water leak in the faucet.
A tremor coursed trough him. How could the sight of a so inconspicuous object bring so much dread? The shivers increased.
A man, was holding him from behind, pressing him tightly up against him, while another grabbed his penis, holding it in position. The young man tried to distance himself with what was done to him.
Not really me, only my body, not really me, only my body. He repeated the words slowly like a mantra.
He could feel the breath of the man against his ears, warm on his skin even through the fabric of the balaclavas. In his utter misery Blair let his head fall back against the man shoulder. He remained there until he finally succeeds in his task, not bothering to attempt to reclaim his weight from the man who was holding him up.
When he was done, more gloved hands positioned him under the spray of warm water. They untied his hands and retied them in front of him. He was positioned forward, palms flat against the cold tile of the shower wall. He stood there under the water stream, slumped in defeat and despair.
One of the men took a cloth, put some soap on it and began to clean him up.
OhGodohGod I can't, I just can't, stop touching me, stopitstopitstopitstopit.
Blair shut his eyes and clenched his teeth together. Tears were threatening to slip from his eyes but he fought them back. He was breathing hard gulping back the sob under the water, his hair hiding his face flushed with shame, like a veil.
He wanted to tell them to stop. He wanted to kick, to scream, to fight, to do something. He wanted it. Hard. Yet he did nothing. He just stayed still, body racked with shivers. Helpless.
No point struggling. Nothing I could do to stop it, to stop them, would only get hurt, Jim will come, have to be strong for Jim.
Onlymybodyonlymubodynotmenotmenotmenotme.
The young man's obvious distress went completely ignored.
The man with the cloth was careful around the wound on his thigh and this almost did it. The false gentleness was almost too much for Blair. He was going to lose it. Some of the tears he was fighting back escaped his closed eyelids. He squeezed his eyes tighter, almost painfully.
The men finished with washing and rinsing his hair and he felt something soft and warm being wrapped around him. Massive arms were supporting him. He was barely able to stand now having almost reached the limits of his emotional endurance.
They thoroughly rubbed his body and hair dry with the towel as he continued to submit silently to their ministrations. His hands were untied and he was dressed in shaggy grey sweatpants and long sleeved tee-shirt.
During all of it, an eerie silence had been reigning in the room, giving an unreal atmosphere to the scene. Blair felt disconnected to reality, his body and mind numb.
Maybe it's not real, none of it is, it's too horrible to be real, this couldn't be happening.
The men laid him back down on the bed. As soon as they released him, Blair rolled away, burying his face in the mattress he was lying on. He heard their retreating footsteps and the soft click of the door closing behind them.
He was alone.
Lying on the bed, unmoving, he realized he was shaking; his breathing started to hitch, as tears welled up and began to spill over. Soon, the tears he had refused his tormentors streamed down his cheek in rivulets. He felt cold and his chest heaved with the effort to breathe through the sob that racked him.
After several minutes, the shivering diminished to occasional tremors and his sobs subsided.
He cautiously lifted his head. One of the men had put a tray on the floor near the bed: a glass of milk, a bowl of oatmeal and an apple.
They would come back later to retrieve it. And he had better have eaten all of this Champion's breakfast.
Blair pulled his knees up and hugged himself tightly, almost digging his nails into his calves.
Ten days.
He could go on. He had to. It was his only goal now: to hold on his sanity, for another day, then another, until rescue came. Until Jim came.
He began to rock slowly, back and forth, while whispering a litany of soothing and reassuring words to himself.
Have to be strong, Jim will find me, Jim will come. Have to be strong.
TBC