Daric greeted him in front of the table. Everything looked as it usually did, except Brack was standing near Serhii, who was shirtless, bleeding from several wounds.
"If you could please sit," said Daric solemnly, gesturing to the opposite chair.
"What are you doing to him."
Daric pursed his lips, looking admonishingly. "As I mentioned before, your escape attempt is water under the bridge. There are some things, however, we can't allow to continue. Secret communication is forbidden, and we have to uproot that capability."
"So you're torturing him."
"There are limits to how far we can go with you. With Serhii, however…"
"Leave him alone." Jason took a step forward. Gleb and Kent flanked him, looking threatening. "Hurt me instead."
"Our orders are hands-off. I don't like torture any more than you do; however, this time it's necessary."
"It's never necessary."
"He needs punishment." Daric gestured toward Serhii. Blood was streaming down his arms from the chains around his wrists. There were several cuts, although they were shallow, and hints of bruises on his skin. "He also needs Breaking. That is for his benefit. You want him to be an agent, don't you? Considering how defiant he is, that'll take some doing. He'll be going to Zar otherwise. Now, sit down."
The guards prodded him forward; Kent pushed him roughly into the chair.
From the chair, Serhii was just a few feet away. His feet dangled above the drain in the floor.
"Hey, Jason," he said, an incongruous cheeriness to his voice. "How've you been?" His mouth, lip split and bloody, held the hint of a smile.
"Okay. You…"
"Been better. But I've also been worse." His eyes darted to Brack. "This guy's an amateur."
"One that could break your ribs if he wanted," said Daric. "Unlike some people, he knows how to temper his strength."
"You mean Raul?" said Jason.
"He's being punished as we speak. He will be confined without access to slaves for several days. Then no access to children for a while."
"Good."
Daric slid his reading glasses on and jotted down a few notes, then looked at Jason. "You could make this so much easier if you'd just give us the code right now."
"You're Breaking him. There's nothing I can do about that."
"Yes, but we could do it without you witnessing it. I know this hurts you. Not only to see others hurt… but because it reminds you of what you went through." He looked at Jason sadly. "Besides, we would be more focused in our methods if it were purely Breaking. This way, we'll have to give him more unnecessary pain…."
"You don't need to torture anyone. You can stop this. You said yourself you don't like hurting people."
"I'm not the one hurting him. In fact, you can stop this at any time." He gazed at Jason pointedly. "It doesn't have to go any further than this."
"There are other ways."
"There are, yes. But Breaking has to be tailored to each person—and in Serhii's case, it has to be particularly brutal." His voice was maddeningly matter-of-fact. As if this totally made sense to anyone with a functioning mind. "Now, Brack, if you wouldn't mind…"
Brack stepped in front of Serhii and slammed his fists in a quick one-two punch into his stomach. Serhii gasped; tried to double over but couldn't because of the weight on his arms.
"What is the code, Jason?" said Daric.
"I—"
"Your code is useless now. It always was."
It was true the code wasn't worth much. Now that the Admins knew a code existed, they'd be especially suspicious when they saw it used.
But we need a code to escape….
We could make a new one…
This isn't worth Serhii's pain.
Serhii was bearing the punishment for his defiance and strength. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been focusing on him.
If I can get him to be an agent… if he can somehow convince them he's broken…
If I can learn something from this interrogation so it's not a complete victory for them…
In this underworld, pure action wouldn't cut it. Jason would have to draw more on his spy skills…. Underhandedness, working from the shadows… mindgames… He was even more rusty with those than with action because they hadn't come naturally to him in the first place.
"I can't."
Daric scribbled something on his notepad.
Perhaps if I could get access to that…
Daric waved his hand.
Brack nodded.
"Remember—any time Jason refuses," said Daric, "you have permission to hit Serhii. Shake it up a bit if you want. Pay attention to what we're saying so you know when to hit. Like a dance." He smiled.
This guy's not quite sane either….
Am I anymore?
We're all mad here….
Brack's specialty was beating people down, but at least he didn't seem like a particularly creative person…. Or even especially cruel. A blunt instrument doing their bidding… for who knew what motive. Perhaps to escape the same fate.
Meanwhile, Gleb and Kent sauntered around the room, murmuring among themselves. They seemed especially eager for some reason. Were they part of this too, or merely passing the time?
Something struck him amid his distress…
The training room Above was larger, but similar in that there were weapons on the walls…
Weapons.
If I could get one… smuggle it down here… or….
Brack slammed his fist into Serhii's stomach, then his chest. Serhii gasped, his breath wheezing. Perhaps he had broken something….
Daric gazed at Jason, head tilted in question.
Jason shook his head, though his heart flipped over with a jab of pain.
Brack yanked Serhii's head back; his hair was longer now, and rather unruly. He had a light beard which glistened beneath his chin. Brack slid his knife from his belt and slid it across Serhii's throat. At first there was no blood, but then it nicked his skin a little. He dragged it upwards and slid it against his cheek. Cutting down, a vicious slash across his jaw.
Harsh pain ripped across Jason's vision. Blinding him like when he'd gotten the scar on his cheek.
For a moment he couldn't move, couldn't feel anything but the phantom pains that felt as real as if it were happening to him.
Then anger ripped through his heart. He leaped forward, grabbing the knife from Brack's hand. It slashed another cut across Serhii's jaw, but Jason didn't have time for guilt.
Brack's hand lashed out at him, but Jason jumped aside, brandishing the knife. Serhii's blood trickled onto his wrist.
Jason dashed toward Daric; Daric stood, whipping out his shockrod.
"Don't come any closer with that," said the Admin nonchalantly.
Jason stepped back.
And threw the knife.
White-hot pain blazed through him.
Dark and light roared against his mind
Heat and cold burning through him
His limbs twitching with aftershocks
He gazed up at the cement ceiling.
It took a few moments for him to realize he was on the floor. A moment after that, hands were grasping his limbs, tying them together. He struggled weakly, but his body was too sluggish to do any good.
Brack dropped him unceremoniously into the chair.
Daric shook his head, looking at Jason with reproof. "It's for your own good. You getting hurt isn't part of the plan."
"Maybe it should be." Jason's voice shook annoyingly. "Why don't you leave Serhii out of it."
"Why don't you give us what we want."
"You have us anyway. The code is useless. Why do you need it?"
"We need it because we can't allow slaves to communicate with each other secretly. Of course you can't escape. But it's the principle of the thing."
"Maybe you really are afraid that we'll do something against you. Like I did just now."
"You felt the effects of that. You're too weak to do anything effectively."
"You're afraid of us. Or you wouldn't need all these…devices." He tried to gesture to the back of his neck, but the ropes held his wrists firmly behind his back.
"That just makes punishment more efficient."
Serhii chuckled, interrupted by a cough. "Jason's right. You're afraid of people with freedom in their hearts. You can't make people into slaves who don't consent to it." His eyes flashed.
"It's only a matter of time until you'll be ours," said Daric unperturbedly.
"I'll die before that happens."
"Parts of you might have to die… We'll probably have to get very… insistent with you. We already know your weaknesses. You were practically coming apart already after two weeks of isolation." A perverse smile drew a crescent across the bottom of Daric's face.
"Thanks for the relief, by the way," said Serhii. "I knew you wouldn't leave me alone forever."
"If we left you alone for a year, that'd probably Break you. But we'd rather not draw it out that long… Your previous master was rather easy on you. You haven't experienced what most slaves have."
Serhii paled.
"But it'd probably hurt you even more to watch it done to the people you care about…."
Serhii struggled, rattling the chains. He glared at Daric, killing him with his eyes.
"But that'll come later. For now… Brack, why don't you get a little more creative."
Brack nodded, but he looked a little put out by the request. Jason almost laughed.
Brack drew the shockrod from his belt and slammed it across Serhii's back. He swung from the chains, twisting a little with the force of the blow.
Then another—then another.
Jason felt each one as if it were resonating through the space between them. He didn't realize he was closing his eyes until Daric said, "All senses required, Jason. Or we'll have to make you look."
Jason opened his eyes but didn't look at the torture directly. He couldn't shut out the thud of metal on flesh even if he'd tried. The ropes pressed into his skin, rubbing against his wrists and ankles. He was acutely aware of their presence; the feeling of being trapped gradually crawled over him and began to cut off his oxygen.
As Brack moved to Serhii's chest, Jason gasped for breath; something was wrapping tight around his throat.
"Alright, stop," said Daric.
The thuds ended.
"Untie him—he can't tell us anything if he's incoherent."
A vast shadow fell over him; the next thing he knew, the ropes were loosened. He drew in deep breaths, filling his lungs.
Daric leaned forward. "Had enough?"
"I…"
"Holding out—for what? You're letting him get hurt. Because of your pride."
Perhaps it was time to give in…
"Don't do it," said Serhii. "This is nothing."
"There are other battles…."
"It's the principle of the thing." Serhii narrowed his eyes at Daric. "We're not giving up anything without a fight."
"Are you sure?"
Serhii smiled. "What do you think?"
"Why don't you keep focusing on his chest," said Daric. "The scars in particular."
"No!" said Jason. He leapt to his feet—or tried to. His legs wobbled too much so he braced his hands on the table.
Daric smiled wryly.
Brack cut into the knife scar near Serhii's heart, carving deeper than the original wound. Methodically, he sliced down toward the next one, bringing each scar together in an intricate pattern.
Jason felt sick. He leaned his head in his hands.
"Watch!" Daric pounded his shockrod onto the table. "Gleb, Kent, get over here."
Gleb and Kent continued chattering over some sort of sharp, gleaming instrument.
"Guards!"
"Yessir!" they shouted in unison and rushed over to the table.
"Hold him. Face him toward the hanging man."
"Yessir."
Gleb and Kent pulled Jason to his feet and turned him toward the knife carving further down over Serhii's stomach, gleaming with blood.
Gleb grabbed Jason's chin and held it firmly. "Watch."
Serhii trembled with pain but barely made a sound.
If only I could be that stoic… and he's gone through worse….
Goes to show you can stay strong even if… It doesn't have to burn away part of your soul. But then… he's exceptional….
Mercifully, the knife stopped. It had cut through each scar Zar had given Serhii. His chest was streaming with blood.
But Serhii held his head high, his eyes glittering with defiance.
"Hm, maybe we should try a different tactic," said Daric. "It'd be more pressure for you to hear someone's else's screams. Break both of you at once… We'll bring Zakhar down."
"No!" said Serhii, anguish in his voice.
"Your pain will be pain for Jason too. Brack, if you would…" Brack laid his knife on the table and headed for the door.
"Please… please," said Serhii. "Don't hurt him. Please." His voice was ragged with desperation.
Daric held up a hand, and Brack stopped. "Jason, it's your call."
"Alright," said Jason. "I'll… give you the code."
"See, that wasn't so hard."
Brack unbound Serhii's wrists and he dropped to the floor. He cried out as his knees hit the cement; he slowly brought his cuffed hands in front of him. Blood encrusted the metal bonds. He knelt there, trembling, his head bowed. Blood streaking his cheek.
Daric tore the used pages out and slid the blank notepad over to Jason along with the pencil. He hesitated, his hand shaking. It was hurting now, which hadn't been helped by grabbing the knife. He hated the idea of giving up something they'd worked on together for days, something they'd used just between them, precious because the Admins didn't share it. Now… it was gone as if it had never existed.
He wrote quickly, wanting to get it over with, ignoring the pain shooting through his hand as if it had also been nailed to a wall. Then he slid the paper back over to Daric, not bothering to look at him. Disgust filled him for this whole process.
He longed to go to Serhii, who was still kneeling, head bowed. They probably wouldn't allow it… but what did he have to lose?
He stood, his head spinning, then shuffled over to Serhii. Mercifully, no one stopped him. He knelt at his side.
The wounds sliced into Jason's heart. The worst was the wound on his cheek—Jason had caused that. "I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"Hurting you."
A low laugh built in Serhii's chest. Then he looked up, his blue eyes striking Jason's. "That—was friendly fire, which I don't mind. It was worth it, seeing Brack fumbling around… not worth you getting shocked though."
"Well, that was worth at least trying."
They were dragged to their feet, forced down the corridor. They barely had the time to say goodnight before they were shoved into their cells and locked inside.
The next morning after the door opened, Sasha came to his room, bringing a piece of bread. "I'm sorry," she said. "This is all I could save…"
"Sasha, you don't have to share."
"But I want to." She handed it to him.
He took it gratefully; he had to admit he was hungry.
Jason felt like devouring it, but he tore it in half and laid the other half on the table.
"Why did you do that? Are you saving it for later?"
"I'm saving it for my friend. He's in the other cell."
She sat on the chair opposite him. "Who is it?"
"Serhii. He's… from upstairs."
"Can I see him?"
"He's got to recover. They hurt him yesterday. I don't want to wake him up."
"Did they…hurt you?"
He shook his head.
"I wish Pearl and Danny were here. I miss them."
"Me too." His heart flipped over; he didn't want to think about the last time he'd seen them. He could only hold onto the hope that they were being well taken care of.
She leaned forward. "I found some more people to help." She spoke in code.
"Sasha—"
"What?"
"You can't use the code anymore. I… gave it away yesterday. I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"Because… I couldn't let them hurt Serhii anymore."
"Oh." She looked down, her eyes shadowed. Then she looked up. "What now?"
"We'll have to change our plans. We didn't really have any anyway. For now… we'll just have to improvise."
"But…how will we get away?"
"We have to be patient."
"What if they come for me?" Her voice rose in panic.
"I'll try to protect you. Hopefully you'll be going to the harem…" He hated to speak of this.
"But… I'll be away from you…"
"You'll be better off there."
"How will I help you?"
"It's… better that you don't. I don't want to involve kids anyway. It's up to adults to protect you."
"But… I want to be an agent."
"You'll make a very good one. But for now… it's best that you stay safe. Patience is a big part of being an agent, too."
She sighed, looking dissatisfied. Then she got up and wandered around the room before sitting on the bench beside the sink. She swung her legs; the soles of her shoes just brushed the floor. "I want to be home by my birthday. What day is it?"
"I… think I lost track again. Last time I knew it was the twenty-second… that was maybe five days ago…."
"Twenty-second of what?"
"September."
She counted to five on her fingers, then her eyes lit up. "It is my birthday!"
"Really?"
Her smile disappeared. "I want to be with Mom and Dad…"
"We could try to put together something for you."
"Okay."
"First, we need to find out if it's really the twenty-seventh. I have to get better at keeping track of time…"
"Maybe Kiran will lend us his writing rock."
"I'll ask. First, I need to ask Serhii if he knows what day it is."
He stepped into the hallway. The next door was slightly open; cautiously, he peered inside. Serhii was sitting on his bunk. He gasped when he saw Jason and slid off the bunk. Then he winced. "I forgot about last night…" Carefully he walked over to Jason.
"I can get you some more painkillers."
"If you could…."
He followed Jason to his room and Jason introduced Sasha.
She looked up at him curiously as Jason gave him some pills and showed him the sink.
"Wow, this is the luxury suite."
Jason laughed. "I suppose it is."
"You even have your own water…" He swallowed the pills then drank eagerly from the faucet. Then he straightened, wiping his mouth. "It's good, too."
"If you like drinking rust."
Serhii laughed. He sat down at the table, looking rather exhausted. The prison clothes hid most of his injuries, but the cuts were stark slashes across his cheek.
"Didn't they give you any bandages?" asked Jason.
"Just some salve…."
"You'll get a scar without stitches."
"I was actually expecting the interrogation to be worse. The way they made it sound when I was coming down here…. I expected to be torn apart. Not that that's not still in the cards but…. It looks like I'll be here for a while. At least Zakhar isn't with me…."
Sasha sat down on the bench. Jason sat opposite Serhii and grabbed the piece of bread.
"This is for you."
"Really?"
Jason nodded.
He gnawed at the bread, burrowing through it in a manner of seconds. "I haven't eaten in a while…" he said rather apologetically.
"That's how it works down here."
"I know. I was in intake in the beginning."
"Oh. I forgot."
"How has it been for you?"
"Not too bad. I mean… the worst is… seeing what they do to others. Especially kids."
Serhii nodded, eyes shadowed.
"Do you happen to know what date it is? I lost track."
"That's easy to do down here… They locked me in my room for almost two weeks. I kept track there. It's September 26."
"So it's not my birthday!" said Sasha. She looked rather pleased.
Serhii turned to Sasha. "When is your birthday?"
"The twenty-seventh. I wanted to be home by then…."
"You never know…. I've learned to believe in miracles."
She jumped off the bench. "Really? You've seen them?"
"Even in the worst places. Whether it inherently happens that way—the world balancing itself out—or whether it just seems that way, the light against the dark…. I've seen a lot of death and suffering in the past few months. But also some wonderful things…"
"Like what?"
"Love. That's the best miracle of all."
Sasha looked rather disappointed. "So… not like, a real one."
"It's the realest thing there is. It keeps us all going… when otherwise we would've unraveled a long time ago…." His eyes drifted into the distance, burning with longing.
"He's right," said Jason. "Love is the center of everything. God is love."
"God led me here…" said Sasha, looking away, arms folded.
"God only wants the best for you. He loves you—more than you could ever imagine."
She looked at him dubiously yet a certain light in her eyes. "Really?"
"Yes. I love you too."
A smile spread across her face.
"What would you like to do tomorrow?"
"Oh… I don't know… play mushball?"
"I thought you were tired of mushrooms."
She shrugged. "They're the most exciting thing here, so…."
Jason laughed. "I suppose so."
"We could paint with mushrooms… it could be a mushroom party!"
"Whatever you like."
"I just wish Danny and Pearl could come back—" She halted. "No, I don't." Sorrow filled her eyes. "I wish I could go up there… with you."
"Maybe you will. You'll be safer…"
"Then I couldn't play with you, though."
"That's true. I'd miss you."
"Me too." She sauntered over and held out her arms. Jason knelt and hugged her close. He was alarmed to feel how thin she was.
If only I could figure out how to accelerate my plan… to even have a plan beyond finding intel… He almost wished Elena would call him up again. So he'd have a chance to learn something.
Be careful what you wish for…
They headed out into the main room where Kiran was writing on the floor again. This time in small, careful strokes along the wall. Quinn was sitting near them, speaking earnestly with Lucia in slow Italian, The Inferno open in his lap. Jason walked over to Kiran.
"Hi, Jason," said Kiran, still writing.
"What are you writing?"
"A story this time. It's about people like us. Long ago on a faraway world."
"That sounds interesting."
"I have to get it out of my head. They escape the bad guys eventually. I just have to get to that somehow…"
"Maybe we'd better get you a pen and paper."
"I'm not sure how… I mean. They give rewards for some things, but I'm not gonna stoop that low…"
"I'll see if I can get them."
"Don't sacrifice for me…."
"I won't. I want to write too. It's good to keep your mind sharp."
"You mean I'm not going crazy?" He laughed.
"Well… crazy is relative here…"
Kiran nodded.
"Besides… I want to read your story. They might scrub it off…. And you won't have enough space anyway. Besides… they might not let you keep writing on the floor."
"That's true."
"You wouldn't be able to lend me your rock when you're done, would you?"
"What for?" He drew the rock closer in his fist protectively.
"For a calendar."
"You know the date?"
"I do now."
"Sure. Just after this burst of inspiration dissipates…"
Jason introduced Serhii to Kiran, Lucia, and Quinn. Then he told them that the code had been broken and asked them to tell anyone else who knew it.
"At least we didn't learn much of it yet," said Lucia. "Should we learn a new one?"
Jason shook his head and replied in her language, "We have to find a different strategy. Something that they won't be able to figure out… We shouldn't even speak about this, but they'll expect us to speak about it anyway. They're always watching and listening." He spoke the same words in English to Kiran, who, by his blank looks, was the only one in the group besides Sasha who didn't know Italian.
"If they are always listening," said Kiran, "What can we do?"
"Get creative."
"I can do that."
"But mainly… we should probably just improvise. If we see them hurting one of us… if we can defend them…."
"I would have thought that was impossible," said Quinn. "Then I saw what you did… You got beaten up but… you standing up to them… gave me hope. And Lucia has given me hope too." He grasped her hand, then repeated the words in Italian. She smiled brightly. "Anything is better than just… lying there and letting it happen." A slash of anger flickered through his eyes.
"Even if you lose," said Serhii, "there's something about action that gives you hope."
"Most of all," said Kiran, "We have to stop the kids from being hurt. At all costs."
Quinn nodded and interpreted for Lucia. "We can't let something so horrible happen to them again," said Lucia.
Jason told them about Sasha's birthday, and they agreed to celebrate with her tomorrow. Lucia excitedly spoke of ways they could throw a party, speaking so fast Jason could hardly catch the words.
"She wants a mushroom party," said Jason.
"There are lots to choose from," said Lucia, smiling.
Sasha sauntered up to them, twirling a larger mushroom in her hands. "I think I want a different party."
"Like what?" said Jason.
"An agent party. If I can't be one, then at least I can pretend to be."
"What would an agent party be like?"
She shrugged. "You're an agent, you tell me." She laughed. Then she looked up at Serhii. "You're a spy too, aren't you."
Serhii nodded. "I was an intelligence officer. How'd you know? Did Jason tell you?"
She shook her head. "You just seem like one."
"Very perceptive. Just like… a future spy."
She smiled. Held out the mushroom toward Jason. "Do you want to play?"
"Sure."
She led him toward the Mush Room. As soon as he reached the doorway, his heart slammed hard against his chest and he couldn't go any further.
"What's wrong?"
"I—" He didn't want to tell her what had happened. "That's where…they hurt Danny."
Horror dawned in her eyes. "They hurt him?"
He nodded.
"I thought he just went up… Is he okay?"
"I… don't know."
"You said he was!" She threw the mushroom at him.
"They're taking care of him…. They said they're not hurting him anymore."
"You can't believe what they say!" She dropped to her knees and curled up, wrapping her arms around her head. He crept up to her and she reached for him, and he held her as she cried.
Not long later, Gleb and Kent appeared and escorted him back to his room. He felt emotionally drained, but he couldn't let himself just lie there and stare at the ceiling. He dragged himself to his feet and began to practice, using some of the techniques Tamara had taught him. Even though it was hard, he focused on using his left hand. It wasn't hard just because he wasn't used to using it, but because he had a sort of disdain for it—which was one reason (besides its injury) he had started using it even less than normal. He hadn't quite realized this until now; it had stayed at the edge of his mind, indistinct. But now that he focused on it, he hated it as the symbol of his helplessness, the reminder of his worst pain. And it would never be the same again—like him.
Its one redeeming value was that it also bore Connie's ring. Looking at it swept all other feelings away. He focused on its soft, gleaming gold, and it distracted him enough he was able to get through some of the blocks in his mind. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed like it was gaining more flexibility and had swifter reactions than before.
He sat down to catch his breath; he still had a long way to go to get back in shape. Hunger gnawed at him.
His heart pounded with dread. He knew what he had to do but didn't want to face it. He had to, though, if he wanted to be able to resist Elena. To be in control, not let his feelings control him.
You couldn't just push through PTSD, he knew that… perhaps he could trick his mind in some way…
Most of all, he couldn't freeze. He couldn't be so scared that it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. He had to get past his fear of nonconsensual touch, especially of his scars…. Just her touching his scars, he knew, had been part of what had locked him in place before.
And she knew how that affected him, he realized. That's why they kept cutting into his scars…. Why they'd hurt Serhii that way in front of him last night.
I have to get past this in order to get anywhere….
I did fight back and get away. I just have to burn it into my mind.
I have the strength—I just have to hold onto it.
I strangled Zar the first time… he just wasn't as unconscious as I thought.
I fought him off the second time.
I fought Elena off the other day.
I have to remember I was not totally frozen. I could escape.
Most of all, I have to realize God is on my side. He doesn't want me to be hurt, either.
The thing is, I do need to get close to Elena… How far would He want me to go…. How far would Connie…
Compromise her without giving in… without being shocked to oblivion….
What exactly should my approach be?
She's obsessed with me… but does that mean she would stop being objective or does she compartmentalize…
She thinks she's in control. She thinks she can eventually make me do anything she wants… but I still have my mind and will. Love- she could never understand. There are things she doesn't control, things she doesn't know… Perhaps her pride will be her undoing.
Perhaps I can pretend to be under her spell against my will…. So I don't let it get very far. Still… to lead her on…. Dangerous when she has so much power…. How she believes she possesses me…. I don't know how far she'd go.
If she binds me or does something I can't do anything about, like Zar did… at least I could try to use it….
Never willingly go that far. That would be… betraying Connie. I can't do that, even to get back to her.
If it goes past a certain point… and I know it'll go further… perhaps the best way out would be to—
No.
Have to exhaust all other options.
I'm not that desperate yet.
Besides…. Would God want me to kill myself to avoid something like that? Would it count as 'willing' if I had the choice to either… be raped or be killed—and I 'chose' the first? Which is the worse sin? Would God make an exception in this case? What does the Bible say about it?
Avoid sexual immorality… which might mean choosing death over rape…
I haven't had to think about this, so I didn't really study anything close to it. Rape was abhorrent to me so I knew I'd never do anything against someone's will.
But—
He recalled a time when something had been done against his will. He'd long forgotten… buried it.
His fiancée, Gloria. They'd been taking a trip one summer all over Europe between semesters. It had been uproariously fun, but there had also been a huge temptation, because most of the time it had been just the two of them.
Rome.
Sunkissed marble steps. Glorious columns, art everywhere. Running around the city, exuberant, adoring their time together.
The hotel. Coming back after a particularly delicious day.
Up the elevator. She began to kiss him. Her golden hair—
Gold— (his heart thumped hard at this memory, now mixed up with newer ones…)
—her golden hair wrapped around him.
Nearly tumbling out of the elevator into some proper older couple, who looked mildly offended.
Rushing to their room. Not thinking, just feeling.
His fingertips yearned to touch her skin. To feel the silky smoothness of her waist, like at the beach—
So warm and beautiful she was, delight playing across her eyes.
They fell onto the bed (there were two beds in the room), kissing and laughing.
She pressed him down and gazed into his eyes. Darted a delicate kiss onto his mouth, her lips curved playfully.
In that moment, he realized. He was in the danger zone. If he kept going… he might go too far.
This was God telling him to protect himself and her.
He tried to get up.
She pressed his wrists down harder and straddled him. Kissed him again lusciously. He felt his body respond.
Ah he wanted her…
But he didn't want this. Not like this.
He wanted to do it right. Wanted to do right by her. She deserved it.
He tried to get up again but she pressed down on his chest. It hurt. She kissed his jaw, his ears… ah he yearned for her—
But no.
"Glory—let's—"
She pressed her finger to his lips. "Shh. I know you want this." She kissed him roughly.
He was frozen for a moment, trapped between desire and a strange shock.
"Please," he said. "We can't…. not now."
"Why not?"
"We're Christians."
"So? We'll be married in the sight of God."
"That's…not how it works."
She shrugged. "I love you. That's all that matters. I can tell you want me." She rubbed his thigh. Traced his bare chest. Then kissed him again. Kissed lower, biting.
He struggled weakly; she was surprisingly heavy, all her weight bearing down on him. One of his arms still trapped.
He didn't want to hurt her. But he had to get away. His desire had faded into a sort of panic. She was being much rougher than usual. He writhed away, grasping her waist; was finally able to shuffle her off. He scrambled away to the window, shaking. Feeling strangely cold and breathless. People were walking on the street, far below, little pinpoints. The Colosseum in the distance, glowing pale gold in the sunset.
"Hey," she said, sliding her arm around his waist. "What's wrong?"
He flinched. She looked hurt. Guilt flooded him.
"I…. just don't think we should go that far." There was also the guilt he'd let it get to the point it had…
She pouted. "I thought that's what we were here for. I thought maybe…" She shook her head, tousled hair cascading over her shoulders. "But your Christian tradition is a little more… puritanical than mine… I thought all men wouldn't be able to resist that. But you—wow. How repressed!" She laughed.
His face heated. He felt rather small and ashamed.
Their relationship had cooled a little after that. There was this unspoken distance between them. They had fun together the rest of the trip, and he forgot what had happened. She never mentioned it again, never pressured him further.
But now…. He realized it for what it was. No wonder she hadn't been the one for him.
We should really teach boys that their consent matters too… 'even' when they're adults. I don't think we quite get this message… like me not realizing it for what it was—on the same spectrum as other sexual assault, when something sacred isn't respected…. someone's will is ignored…
He'd felt a similar shock and horror then… only now it was worse. Because he was trapped by someone he hated, not someone he loved (or thought he did). He couldn't escape easily; a wider world was further than just a step out the door. He could be bound, tortured, hurt… he didn't want to face all the ways they could control him.
It was not his fault… it wouldn't be if someone hurt him that way. Even if the alternative was death. Yet… afterwards… it would be irrevocably different… could he face that… he'd already had to recover from so much….
I couldn't leave Connie alone. But it would be her choice whether to keep someone so damaged… Even if it wasn't my fault, how could she bear to touch me, look at me… She wouldn't abandon me. She'd just deserve someone who wasn't broken…
I'm going to escape.
I'm not letting Elena get beyond a few touches. I'll fight as much as I can otherwise.
Fighting overtly isn't always possible…
At least win the battle in my mind…
That might be all I have left in the end….
He practiced fighting off an imaginary enemy. Imagining Elena, imagining Zar—crushing them.
At some point, he realized he was fighting off Gloria, too…. Releasing long ago pent-up feelings.
Some figures appeared in the doorway and he stopped.
The liaison and another guard.
"Hello, Jason," said the liaison, brushing back a strand of dark brown hair.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Brianna," she said. "Time to go up." She gestured to him amiably, with none of the mocking roughness of Gleb and Kent.
"What for?"
"Training." She guided him toward the elevator.
When they reached the training room, no one was there but a few men practicing karate in a far corner. "Looks like we're a little early," said Brianna. "Most people are having lunch right now."
"I haven't had lunch."
"I was just instructed to bring you up. Would you like me to stay with you until they arrive?"
He shook his head.
She nodded and slipped from the room.
Savoring some time alone that wasn't in the gloominess of the dungeon, he walked around, inspecting the weapons, imagining how to use them. And trying to figure out how to access this room without anyone knowing…
Cameras everywhere… monitors catching what he said… they had an almost airtight system.
But there had to be some loopholes somewhere.
Such as a code that didn't reveal itself…
He admired an intricate longsword on the wall; it was laced with gold and had an elaborate hilt. Probably just for decoration.
A shadow appeared beside him.
"Beautiful, isn't it," said Ali.
He glanced at Jason, brown eyes deep and searching yet glossed over with shreds of an easy amiability. "How have you been, Jason."
"They tortured me the first day down there, but otherwise I'm okay…"
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault."
"I feel complicit, though. I…thought I was luring Zar to you. But Zar was part of luring you Beneath…. I don't go down there if I can help it. Maybe… I should have come to visit but I've been so busy and… I didn't know if you wanted to see me."
"I asked you to get Zar to me. You didn't know their plans. Did you?"
Ali shook his head. "I knew they wanted to Break you but… not the specifics. I'm not privy to their program for you. Only Elena knows all the pieces… and those adapt to what you—" He shook his head. "I've got to be careful, too. They…admonished me. Knew I gave you some things… sent Zar down for you, not for the program… Good thing I didn't know you were planning to escape, or… I'd be in much worse trouble. Probably hanging upside-down in the basement. Not that my back doesn't need some un-crookeding..." He laughed. Then his face grew solemn. "So… they did hurt you. Even if I didn't know… I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do? Within reason."
"What's 'reason'?"
"Well, I can't… go as far as before. I can't give you anything remotely lethal, including drugs. Not even medical ones. I can't protect you from the main program for you… even if it means you get hurt." Pain sliced through his eyes. "But maybe I can… protect you in some ways. If the guards are going overboard or… if I could divert Elena… influence her to not be as harsh… I don't know. There are so many limits… and I'm being scrutinized more now, as someone potentially too biased."
"What about a pen and pencil?"
His eyes lit up. "I think I can get that."
"Some food?"
"I'll see what I can do."
"Some clothes?" Jason fingered his rough, serviceable shirt. "I don't mind this… but when Elena gives me what she wants me to wear…"
"It would look like ownership. I… can't do that to you."
"I know you won't try to possess me."
Ali's brow furrowed with a sort of pained incredulity. "After what I did…."
"I think you care about me enough to… I mean… that was an anomaly."
"That's what I keep telling myself… You don't need any more hardship. I'm toning myself down… with effort. I never want to be remotely close to what Zar is.
"At least he's gone. He might have killed you. They acknowledged that in the end. Too much of a wild card to use as a tool."
"So he was pressure."
Ali nodded. "At least you got your showdown—even if I wasn't able to see it."
Jason's heart lurched.
"Wait—he did get to you?" Ali turned toward him vehemently. "What did he do!" His eyes flashed.
"He… I…. I don't want to get into it. He didn't get everything he wanted, let's just say that."
Ali nodded, jaw tense. "If he was still here, I'd kill him. Make it look like an accident." There was a wild look in his eye.
Hm… maybe I can still use his obsession, or love, whatever it is… see how far I could take it… too bad he doesn't have access to everything Elena does…. He at least pays lip service to consent….
"I escaped him… but not… the other things they had in store for me Beneath."
"I…" His shoulders sank. "I didn't want to think about what they were doing to you. There was nothing I could do. So I… immersed myself in work. Almost OD'd with how many drugs I'm breathing in." He smiled. "I didn't think you'd want to see me either… and it's painful to see you." He pursed his lips, looking away. "Painful not to see you, too. I'm a mess!" He slid his hand into his dark curls. "Trying not to be a mess. Trying to get back to status quo… then you reappear. Well. Sorry! I promised not to talk about my feelings. I'll leave you alone."
"Wait! You can stay. If you think it's possible we can be friends. Nothing more."
Ali nodded. "I can compartmentalize, with effort. Plus… I… have come to terms in a way with how things are…
"So, it was paper and pencil?"
Jason nodded.
"I'll get them for you. And the other things, if I can." He slipped through the large archway and disappeared.
Tamara walked toward him; he didn't know how long she'd been there, standing in the opposite corner of the room, and he didn't ask.
They jumped right into training. He kept expecting Gray and Elliot to join them, but they never did. They worked on some more left-handed moves, then Tamara steered him into strength training and exercises specific to him. It was kind of nice to have this one-on-one attention, especially with someone who saw him only as a professional. That was extremely refreshing. And training was rewarding, even though it hurt. It was the right kind of pain. And Tamara was so expert that she kept him just at the edge of going too far… careful to never strain his injuries. Stretching his muscles enough to push past the stiffness he was semi-aware of constantly.
They were cooling down, doing some light yoga, when a figure in white came striding over to them.
Elena.
Tamara unfolded herself and faced her, bowing a little, hand on her heart. "What is it, Supreme."
Elena laughed musically. "You know you've earned the right to call me Elle."
"I—yes."
Elena stepped closer and touched Tamara's shoulder. She stiffened as if stunned. Elena walked toward Jason; he backed away, looking for the exit.
Elena stopped, holding out her hands placatingly. "Hey—nothing to be afraid of."
"I'm not afraid."
She smiled indulgently. "I just wanted to catch a glimpse of you training up close. But it looks like I'm too late. Oh, well. It was still a nice view."
"What do you want."
"To see how your training's coming along and guide you if needed. But it looks like Tamara is doing a marvelous job as always." Elena sent a scintillating smile toward Tamara, who attempted a smile in return.
Perhaps Tamara is the most bound to Elena of anyone… no wonder she's her right-hand woman. Whether I can use that… or whether it's a liability… it's hard to be sure….
Elena turned back toward Jason. "I'd also like to ask you on a date."
"Do I have a choice."
"Of course. You always have a choice. But I'd love it if you'd join me at the restaurant."
"What restaurant."
"One of the best in the world. You can have anything your heart desires."
"Anything?"
"Yes."
"Freedom."
She laughed. "I'll see if that's on the menu." She held out her harm. "Shall we?"
His whole being protested joining her. Except the part of him that was hungry. Yet… he had to take every opportunity… and a restaurant seemed less dangerous than her room… although you never knew.
He ignored her arm and walked beside her as she led him into the unknown.