This is a pretty quick update for me. I'm pleased with myself :)
Thanks CyanideDreams610 for the review.
Warnings for torture. (Not very graphic but still might upset some people).
*****
Pull. Twist. Pull. Jack was trying to get his hands free. But it was no good. His wrists were bruised and his fingers were slick with blood. Still he was no closer to freedom. The door opened and he ceased his efforts. The light from the hallway was enough to make him wince and he fought the urge. Someone pushed Jonathan roughly into the room and the door slammed shut. "Jon! Are you ok?" He struggled to sit up from the floor, his efforts hampered by bound hands. As his eyes re-accustomed to the dark he saw his brother's face was bruised. "What did they do to you?"
"Just hit me a bit. I'm fine." He brought his hands up to his mouth and used his teeth to pull at the knot in the rope. After a few minutes he managed to get himself untied and awkwardly crawled over to release his twin from the chair. "You're bleeding..." he whispered, gentely unwinding the cord. Jack slumped forward off the seat. He tried to stand but his legs collapsed under him, left knee bending outwards sickeningly where a bat had hit it. He cried out in shock and pain. Then Jonathan's arms were wrapped around him, gripping him as tightly as he could.
They held each other on the bloodstained floor. Jackson realised with shock that he was crying. This was his fault. This was the point his whole life had been leading to. They were going to die. Jon was going to die. And it was his fault.
Jonathan wiped the tears away with his good hand. "It's ok," he said quietly. "We're going to die but that's ok. We'll be together."
They were still holding each other when the men returned.
***
One grabbed Jon by the collar and tossed him roughly out of the way. Jack shouted in protest, earning himself a blow to the face. The second of the men, Lenard he was called, pulled him back to the chair. The other -what was his name? Oh yea, Simon - grabbed his right hand and snapped the index finger. He bit his lip to keep from screaming. The middle finger was next. Jon was shouting for them to stop, trying to get up and falling over and over. Lenard - the larger of the men - crossed to the far side of the room and started to punch and kick him. Ring finger. Little finger. They stood out at unnatural angles like bent twigs. Simon dropped the mangled hand and took a knife from his belt. It was long, serrated and very slightly curved. He held the tip of it to Jack's face. The twin stared up at him, angry rather than afraid. The blade trailed down his neck, too lightly to break the skin, and under the collar of his shirt. Pop, pop, pop went the buttons, falling to the floor. Pulling his shirt open revealed an expanse of pale skin, bruised purple and blue. A canvas.
***
There were cuts all over his chest; slashes, crosses and zig-zag lines. They'd had a lighter too and they'd used it, on both the brothers. Simon pushed Jack off the chair, then kicked him in the stomach when he tried to move. "Don't worry," he said, smiling unplesantly, "next time we're going to kill you." They left.
*****