Intensity warning:

Violence in this chapter, attempted sexual assault, 'mild' SA and discussion of it.

The harsh light beat down on him like a relentless summer sun. His back felt as if it were breaking in two; it was almost impossible to focus on what Daric was saying across the table. It wasn't as if he cared about listening; Daric was chattering on about inane topics, perhaps trying to gather some rapport, perhaps just trying to torment him.

At least Daric hadn't even mentioned introducing any physical pressure so far, and the 'interrogation' had been going on for about an hour. There was some sort of food in the paper bag in the middle of the table, but Jason didn't know if there were any strings attached and he wasn't about to just grab it and devour it. For one thing, Raul was pacing in the background, fiddling with different torture instruments as if testing them out.

Perhaps I should focus on that… I need to figure out which one would be feasible to use…

But it was hard to direct his energy. Two days ago, when he'd come back down after being in Elena's room, he'd found that the mattress on his bed had been taken away. Perhaps he'd displeased Elena, or perhaps it was just another method of pressure. But now he had to sleep on a flat pallet, which had a slight ridge in the center. One night had been enough to make send his back aflame, and it hadn't stopped.

At least they'd let Serhii out, so they both had some company besides the guards. And at least they weren't hurting him. They'd also sent down some food yesterday; today the only food he'd yet seen was the food hiding in the paper bag on the table.

And at least he had a shirt now. Ali had sent one down with Jarl with apologies he wasn't able to send food as well. Apparently, they were at least tolerating this amount of accommodation. The shirt was yellow with blue squares on it, not exactly his style, but he adored it because it not only covered his skin and scars and gave him warmth, it also didn't come with any strings attached. Perhaps he'd request Ali send him some pants, too… and perhaps he'd even be able to send down a mattress….

Daric tapped the table. "Jason…. You're not listening."

"There are no rules that say I have to listen."

"It'd make this much more pleasant for the both of us."

"You're not saying anything interesting."

Daric smirked sadly. "How would you know if you're not listening?"

"I'm not playing along."

Daric frowned. "Would you rather other methods? This way, you have a choice whether to pay attention, but at the very least, I'd like to get to know you more."

"There's not that much you don't know."

"You're deceptively straightforward. Ah, the beautiful layers upon layers hinted at… I'm a student of humanity. I love learning trivial things, such as a person's likes and dislikes—that's what I love about this job. Not destroying people, but getting to know them, and then building them back up. It's the nuances that are the most intriguing. The inherent contradictions in every person, the lies they tell themselves, their hidden strengths and weaknesses… the secrets buried in their psyche they don't even know themselves… the layers of denial…"

Daric drew the paper bag close and picked out a sandwich. Jason hoped he wouldn't eat it. Then he handed it across the table. Jason hesitated, not knowing what the game was, but then he opened it to see what was in it. Lunchmeat, tomato, lettuce…

Daric drew out a water bottle as well and slid it across the table.

"Thank you," said Jason. He sipped some of the water. He was about to take a bite of the sandwich when the door opened.

Rave stepped in, leaning on a cane. His black hair was tousled, and he had a wild gleam in his dark eyes. Pure hatred stabbed Jason.

Raul strode over to him. "You're not supposed to be in here."

"Elena gave me permission," Rave said. "I'm allowed to have my pound of flesh."

Fear slashed through Jason. He'd become almost complacent, but Rave's entrance slammed back into him the constant threat of this room.

Daric stood. "I'll have to confirm that."

"Elena's committed to justice." He tapped his right leg. "My knee will never be the same again."

"You know you're not to damage him."

"Yes, yes, I know. No permanent damage." He smirked cruelly. "He looks like he needs to be shaken up a bit. You're entirely too gentle. Perhaps I should be reassigned here."

"I'm the scalpel, Raul is the chisel, you're a cudgel, I suppose. But you have to listen to the chisel." Daric stepped around to the side of the table.

"You're not staying?"

"I have other things to attend to." He looked down at Jason. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to take that." He grabbed the sandwich. Jason would have tried to stop him if he had been prepared.

Daric also lifted the water bottle, but Rave said, "Leave that there. We may need it." He glanced at Raul.

Daric strode up to Rave and looked down at him. "You will stay strictly within the parameters… or Raul will stop you. If he damages you, you won't get any compensation."

"I'm more valuable than he is."

"You're on thin ice. You need to prove yourself—I suspect that's why Elena is allowing this."

Daric glanced sadly at Jason then left, taking a bite of the sandwich.

Rave hobbled over to Jason and looked down at him, his dark eyes suffused with so much hate Jason had to fight to meet his gaze to not show the fear that was rippling down his spine. Raul sauntered over, huge arms crossed, regarding Jason with a detached eagerness, his head tilted slightly.

"I don't see what they're worried about," said Rave bitterly. "I can barely do anything in this state." He looked at Raul. "You'll help me, won't you?"

The giant guard nodded. "I want to see if he lives up to the hype. I'd really like a challenge; I want to see if he's capable of giving me one. But I'm being tested too—I need to prove my restraint, because my power isn't in question." He glanced down at his bulging biceps and flexed one hand. "I can definitely pull my punches. The challenge is the finesse… I need to work on that, and this is the perfect chance to do it." He grinned. "I think we have some wiggle room. I'm quite well-versed on the limits—part of my probation included drilling over and over on what's allowed and what isn't." He glanced at Jason eagerly.

"I have some ideas," said Rave. "I'll give you directions and do what I can. You'll move him and do more of the brute force stuff—which won't damage him because you can't afford that."

Raul nodded.

Jason wasn't sure who he was more afraid of—Rave, who was out for revenge, or Raul, who had this twisted interest in seeing what he was made of.

He couldn't help but long for Daric to return and resume his 'gentler' methods.

"First we've got to get him in a more…fitting position," said Rave. "He belongs on the floor." He clenched his hands into fists. "Ah I wish I could do what he did to me!"

You deserved it, Jason almost said, but figured that wouldn't be in his best interests.

Even though he felt a small bit of remorse at the brutality of his attack, he didn't feel sorry for Rave in the least. He'd done something so bad to Nalika she wasn't able to have children. The reason her baby had been taken from her.

Rage flooded him and he clenched his jaw to keep from lashing out.

Raul stepped over to Jason. Despite the fear trembling through him, he forced himself to his feet. Raul expected a fight. I won't disappoint him.

It's going to hurt either way, and they're under orders not to go too far.

"Ready for another round?" said Raul, eyes dancing.

Fear flickered through him; his hand had been broken during their last showdown. He knew he had no chance against Raul, especially since he was still recovering from starvation mode.

And then there was what Raul had done last time. What Jason had failed to prevent.

Jason couldn't wrap his head around it. To… assault a child in that way—this man was a monster. Something beyond anger twined through him. A cold, thin blade of revulsion at something that should not exist.

"That's my handiwork, isn't it?" said Raul, gesturing to Jason's right hand.

Jason nodded.

"Let's see what sort of steel lies beneath." He tapped Jason's chest.

Rave limped closer and slid generous dark locks away from his forehead. His eyes roved over Jason, the hate submerged beneath a calculating consideration. He fingered Jason's shirt. "I thought shirts weren't in the program anymore."

"Someone gave it to me."

"A…friend? Elena won't like that."

"She must've allowed it."

"You definitely don't deserve something as fine as this. Who'd you get it from?"

Jason doubted it was much of a secret, but he wasn't going to betray someone who had helped him.

"What'd you have to do for it?"

Cold droplets prickled his skin at the insinuation. "Nothing."

"She won't allow other admirers… at least, not beyond a certain point…. Let's get that off of you." His lips twisting cruelly, he slid a knife out of his belt.

Jason shivered, knowing what was coming.

He took a step back, but Raul was ready for him and grasped his shoulders hard, locking him in place.

This time, the knife grazed his skin as Rave cut swiftly, viciously. The last cut sliced rather deeply, sinking into the flesh of his lower abdomen. He couldn't help but gasp.

Raul chuckled behind him. He tossed the shreds of green and white to the floor and Jason shivered. Sorrow cut through him for the loss of the shirt— it was the first he'd had in a while, now it was unsalvageable. He had a feeling it was one of Ali's favorites, too.

Rave stepped back and smiled with satisfaction. "There, much better." He rubbed his chin. "Perhaps we should get the rest off of him."

"In my experience," said Raul, "it's best to do these things gradually."

"I thought you were all about shock and awe."

"I'm also about being the best. Too much shock at once and they shut down. You want him to feel it, don't you?"

Rave nodded, his teeth glinting. "Let's get him on the floor. I wish I could do it, but my balance is off." He gripped his cane ruefully.

Raul slid a finger along the top of Jason's back, then stepped beside him and grabbed his chin. His gray-green were hard as diamonds, sharp as ice. His gaze was searching, as if trying to cut into his soul. "There's defiance there, but will it break as soon as I put a little pressure on you? How much steel is inside—or is it all a façade? I can usually tell what kind of man will shatter easily, but others are tricky. All you spies are. Will your heart crumble into dust—or will it slice me up?" His fingers pressed harder and Jason felt as if he might crush his jaw. Then he released him only to wrap his hands around Jason's neck.

He lifted him above the floor and Jason struggled to breathe. Swords of air sliced down his throat. He couldn't get any air and he choked— darkness crowded his vision—

A sharp pain in his shoulder shocked him back to reality. He gasped, inhaling as much air as he could. Grains of cement pressed coldly against his side and arm.

Rave and Raul were looking down at him, their heads haloed by the light. Rave nudged Jason's knee with his cane. He lifted the cane, then slammed it down. Pain burst through Jason's knee. Radiated up his thigh.

He crawled away, fighting to regain his strength. Fighting Raul was probably futile… but to just let them do this to him…

Perhaps he could palm a weapon surreptitiously… as long as they kept him unbound, he had a chance—

The cane slammed into Jason's ankle and twisted. He bit back a cry. He tried to move but it pinned him there and ground into his ankle as if trying to bore straight through it—

All he could do was try to keep from screaming.

The pressure released.

"That's the problem with revenge," said Raul. "It takes over and your rational mind stops working. We don't want to break his bones—that's definitely beyond the parameters."

Raul crouched and rested a hand on Jason's thigh. "Few could hold back a scream like that." He squeezed Jason's thigh in a comradely way.

"I wanted to make him feel what I felt," said Rave rather plaintively.

"Now that you've gotten that out of the way, maybe you can actually start acting professionally. Still being in pain isn't an excuse."

"He also took my slaves from me. One's beyond my reach… one I haven't seen for a while—"

Raul chuckled. "Can't suppress your urges?"

"I have needs."

"I'd think the harem director would have a little more self-control… but I'm not the one in charge of personnel."

Rave glowered at Raul. "I've heard about your… proclivities. You practically ruined some of our harem stock."

"They were salvageable. Perhaps I did get a little carried away… but that little creature was so delicious… and I'd gone without for a while… so I suspect I do empathize with you. Still, you're the 'elite' here… if you go after your own stock, you won't have any left."

"I just have a few I like…. and I do have a job to do. It's just that when I go without for a while… I start to crave the flesh of a woman… I wake up in cold sweats… Need to let off some steam. Barely even seen a slave for weeks. Can you blame me?"

"You can't confuse craving with need, because then they control you, not the other way around. Some of you are too driven by your cravings. I know what I am; I know how to keep mine in check. If I didn't—I'd have been caught long ago. Kids aren't a need; they're just an outlet that makes my life much brighter when I get my hands on one. And here—I get my pick of the crop." He grinned.

To hear them talk so matter-of-factly about tormenting innocents… it sickened him. Along with enough anger to make him wrest himself to his feet.

He forced himself to face them, although the pain in his ankle was excruciating. And his head still spun from nearly being strangled; his throat ached. So did his knee and shoulder.

"I suppose I can't really access him down there very well anyway," said Rave. "There's got to be something more I can do within the limits that also hurts him."

"Stress positions are always good. Shocks in sensitive areas…. Waterboarding…"

"Let's start with…" Rave looked around the room, his free hand on his chin. His eyes stopped at the chain in the center. He smiled cruelly. "What about that?"

"Hanging? That's always a classic. By both arms, or—"

"Legs. I want him to feel as helpless as I did."

Raul launched toward Jason.

Jason dashed backwards, knowing it was probably futile. But he wasn't letting them do this to him without a fight. He wouldn't be able to hit Raul without breaking or rebreaking his hand. But he did have the advantage of being faster…

Raul sauntered after him, as if knowing how this had to end.

Jason reached the wall; sharp instruments glittered like vicious silver teeth. His left hand tingled as if dreading to touch them.

One stood out as a possible ally: a long broad blade, curved slightly like a scimitar. A long handle of polished wood—

He grabbed it

Shocks burst through his hand and the weapon clattered to the floor.

Raul advanced; Jason raised his left arm, ready for the first blow.

Raul's arm lashed out; Jason tried to block with his but in a flash, Raul grabbed Jason's wrist and spun him, flipping him onto the floor.

Without waiting for Jason to recover, Raul grabbed his ankle and dragged him backwards. He struggled, tried to grab onto something, but he only managed to twist futilely. His chest and arms scraped across the cement.

Almost effortlessly, Raul slammed him chest first onto the table, then tapped his thigh warningly with his shockrod to keep him still.

A cord wound tightly around his ankles, tugging them close. Then Raul attached the cord to a hook on the ceiling chain and pulled the other end.

Jason felt his body lifting upwards and could hardly believe this was happening.

A first time for everything wound through his mind.

The world flipped upside-down as his feet were pulled higher. The floor receded; the two men's bodies foreshortened down into shadow. Blood rushed to his head. His heart thumped hard. How will I bear this?

The chain stopped and he dangled over five feet off of the floor, his feet near the ceiling. The first thing to figure out was what to do with his hands. He tried to keep them up at his sides but gravity pulled at them and he let them hang awkwardly past his head.

"Look at this," said Rave, smirking at him, chin tilted downward to look at him. Rave's hair was more unruly as if he'd raked his hand through it a few times. His face held immense satisfaction, insanity pregnant in it.

Rave grabbed a handful of Jason's hair and twisted. Pain shot through his head. Rave yanked out a tuft of hair, then flung it absently to the ground. His fingers danced over Jason's chest, lightly caressed his chin and cheek. "How many times I dreamed of you in my hands…"

This is too absurd. I'm going to pretend this isn't happening.

Imagine something else… like that psychedelic journey I went on… I could handle that… I can't even take these people seriously.

Rave raked Jason's chest with his fingernails. Slid his hand around his back, doing the same, no method to his madness, as if beside himself with delight at having him in his power—no plan beyond that.

At least take this chance to find something intense enough to distract myself…

He hated to bring Connie into this place, but she was all he could think of that would work. Her face, her smile… the way strands of hair slid randomly across her face in the wind, sparkling in the sun…

The glade, better than anything drugs could conjure—because it was real. The grass tickled his ears…. The moss soft beneath his back…

Something yelled and hit him in the chest, but he tuned it out; it wasn't worth paying attention to.

She was worth—everything.

Blows hit him—spun him—but weren't hard enough to break him from his reverie.

Something wound tight around his throat—he swirled back into the dreamscape…

A cloth pressed tight over his face. He could still breath a little… it was okay…

Then, a hand steadied him by grasping his hair and water poured over his face.

He couldn't breathe. He gasped but only inhaled damp cloth—it smelled like dead leaves—

It's nothing. They can't drown me this way.

But he could still only partly shut out the horrible sensation. He was just able to keep up his illusion. Spin more beauty into it… a glorious future—or everpresent—what his heaven would look like.

The damp cloth disappeared.

A hand wrenched his dripping hair.

Rave's burning eyes looked down at him. "What's wrong with you! Don't you feel anything!"

"This is doing wonders for my back."

Come to think of it, his back didn't hurt anymore, at least not with that sharp ache it had had since he'd woken up.

"Let's get him down."

"Where do you want him next?" said Raul.

"On the slab."

Horror sliced through him. I can't go back there….

At the same time, his head felt like it might burst at any moment. His heart leaped at the thought of being let down, even though it might mean more pain.

"The slab can be configured in many ways. How do you want it?"

Rave slid his hand over the scar over Jason's heart. That scar was like the scars from torture—he'd taken the bullet to save Nadira, but it had also almost killed him. Anyone touching it, especially an enemy, made it feel almost as if it were an open wound again.

"Too bad we can't cut him," said Rave. "I can't really get justice unless he feels the same amount of pain I felt. If he's able to tune this out—there's no point to it."

"Revenge is usually pointless," said Raul. "In the ring, it's all for show, so it means nothing to me. But I do wonder what would happen if he faced some actual pressure… One of the ways that wouldn't damage him per se, but would be especially humiliating—"

"I know what you mean," said Rave, his smile so broad it seemed to stretch almost to his ears. His hand strayed down Jason's neck and into his hair again. Jason trembled; the worst thing so far had been tearing his hair, which had hurt more than he'd expected. His head still burned where it felt like a chunk of his scalp had been torn out.

Rave caressed his cheek. "After going without so long, if I close my eyes, I can almost imagine he's not a man…"

"We do have devices…."

"I'm craving a bit of care after all I've been through, and this'll double as the ultimate humiliation." He grinned. "A man's mouth isn't all that different…" He slid his hand roughly over Jason's chin.

Shock hit him. Would he really do what he'd implied?

Somehow, he hadn't even considered this type of humiliation….

Would things keep getting worse or was this just an anomaly?

They'd dangled the hope of being an agent in front of him, given him 'breaks', told him he was 'privileged', even Elena hadn't pressured him that hard, and had banished Zar because of what he'd done… even Rave's 'revenge' had been pretty mild by torture standards because of the 'limits'… he'd become complacent, thinking the things that happened to others here couldn't happen to him.

Now—

Would Elena allow this? Was this within her parameters? Was she watching?

The chain jerked and Jason freefell for a moment before it halted about three feet above the floor, about waist-high to Rave.

Dear God—please… I can take almost anything else—

Rave grasped the pocket of Jason's pants as if to steady himself. Raul loomed in the background, his expression intense curiosity.

"I don't suppose you'll be as good at this as Sahara, but you'll have to do. Soon I'll have her back, those gorgeous lips just waiting for—"

"Don't you dare speak of her."

Rave laughed, fainter, tinnier echoes ricocheting through the chamber. "There's no one like her. We have a good rapport, she and I."

"I've seen the aftermath of what you've done."

"She likes it rough, likes to play hard to get—ah, I can't wait to get my hands on her!"

Abhorrence rippled through him like cold rain. His heart ached for Sahara, and he supposed he should try to make some sort of deal so Rave wouldn't go after her again. But every ache awakened with a vengeance and screamed at him, If he does this to you, you're lost. And you want to bargain to get more of it! What kind of sick freak are you.

Shame hit him he couldn't gather the courage to offer himself as a permanent substitute, but self-preservation sat like a hard block in his chest and wouldn't let him follow through on the idea.

He wasn't cooperating now either unless they absolutely forced him—and then they'd have to shock him senseless.

Rave unbuckled his belt.

That sent a sickening shockwave through him and he lashed out, hitting Rave's thigh with his left fist. That made him swing backwards; the momentum carried him forward again and he hit harder, this time Rave's stomach.

Rave flashed a fist into his jaw.

Sparks crashed through his skull.

"Steady him, will you? And if he doesn't cooperate, shock him."

"Yes boss." Raul mock-saluted. Grasped Jason's legs and tapped a shockrod warningly against his lower abdomen.

"Gotta soften you up a bit." Rave slung his belt back then whipped it into Jason's chest. The whip thunked hard, lashing pain in a diagonal welt from left to right. Another. Then another.

A hand in his hair. "Now do a good job and I won't whip you afterwards." He twined his belt around Jason's throat, tugged it tightly so he could barely breathe. The shockrod poked his stomach.

Rave reached for his pants button; Jason turned away. Rave tugged the belt, and he almost choked. "Now keep your mouth open and don't bite. Otherwise I'll use that shockrod to light you up from the inside."

"You'll have to do that, because I'm not complying—"

A blow hit his jaw. The belt tightened so hard he gasped for breath.

"Good girl—er, boy." A hand cradled his cheek. "Now we're gonna have a good time—"

The door squealed.

Jason jumped.

A regal figure stepped through, brilliant as a white flame. In a dazzling dress that dragged past her feet, Elena strode toward them, glowing like an angel. Her face was beatific and her golden hair shimmered, so glossy it was as if it were made of pure sheets of falling water.

"I didn't exactly authorize this, boys," she said, her voice half amused and half reprimanding.

"You didn't not authorize it," said Rave.

"Didn't you learn from Zar's mistakes? Your pound of flesh didn't include satiating yours."

"Your limits were too limiting and this—it's something that might actually break him rather than all these half-measures. Needs to be taught a lesson."

"When will you all learn restraint? I admit he's enticing but…. I don't want him treated like a common slave. If you can't understand that…." She stepped over to Jason and touched his side, then slid her finger past the largest welt. "I'm sorry, dear." She turned to Rave. "Please get out. I don't want you near him again."

"But—"

"Don't worry, I'll give you back your slave."

Hunger licked Rave's eyes. "Yes, Supreme." He strode out, and Jason sighed with relief.

Carefully, Elena undid the belt around Jason's throat and let it slide to the floor.

"You'd like me to take him down, I suspect?" asked Raul.

"Just a moment." She drew up a chair, parking it in front of Jason, and sat down. Her fingers caressed his hair.

He turned away, wanting to shut this out. But with Elena here, Connie's presence faded into the background. He could lie to himself, but not to Connie, even though her current self was a figment of his imagination.

He had already betrayed her…. No matter if it had been for a good cause….

Elena caressed his throat. She reached into a hidden pocket in her dress and drew out some salve. It was cold on his skin as she spread it, but it suppressed the burning, so he couldn't help but be grateful. And to be rescued from—that— He shuddered.

"All that awfulness…" she said. "It's over now."

"Then why don't you let me down?"

"You're so beautiful this way." Without warning, she pressed her lips to his.

He tried to twist away, but she grasped his hair, without any viciousness, but firmly, as if in warning.

Déjà vu hit him.

He hadn't been upside-down then, but seventeen years ago, in another dungeon in Muldavia, Elena had kissed him…. It hadn't been pleasant then, and it wasn't now. All he wanted was to be let down, but he was trapped—he'd vowed not to let her touch him again, but he could do nothing.

Grasp her hair and yank her away, perhaps…

He knew what would happen if he touched her violently.

It froze him even more to realize that even if he used the one method he had left to resist with, it would only end in more pain.

Her lips didn't try to pry his open, thankfully. It was just soft pressure. Not the frenzy of before… gentler and more caring… her hand glided up his chest to his stomach absently…

It was so unlike the violence Rave had threatened that, insidiously, it soothed him.

His stomach fluttered, a little unsettling, but a precursor to longing— A craving built in his chest to get over this awkward phase and start to enjoy it so he could plunge all this pain into nothingness—crush it beneath the power of sheer pleasure he couldn't get anywhere else— his imaginings just a poor substitute for the real thing, even if they were of the one he loved—

Sickness raked through him, ravaging away any hint of… anything else. He pushed her away, no matter the consequences.

He expected shock and condemnation, but she just smiled a little wistfully.

"Let's get him down," said Elena, lips glistening. "Gently."

"Yes, ma'am," said Raul, and he unhooked the cord from the chain, then caught Jason in his arms and cradled him to the floor where he laid him.

Jason's head spun; he almost blacked out from the sudden rush of blood away from his head. Aches shot through him randomly.

Soft hands cradled his head, stroked his hair back. That felt so wrong… he didn't have enough mind to grasp why—but he couldn't move so he was trapped there as Elena hummed a lullaby.

"You deserve a reward," said her soothing voice. It could've been a few moments or hours later… time had stopped working.

"Why…?" His voice was hoarse.

"There's no better remedy than your kisses."

"I didn't kiss you."

"It was still wonderful."

"I don't want a reward." The very thought was abhorrent. He tried to get up, but it was as if all energy had drained from him.

"Get him some water," said Elena, and a water bottle appeared, Raul looking down indulgently.

She pressed it to Jason's lips, and he drank, knowing he needed liquid. He couldn't afford pride when it came to keeping as healthy as he could.

"There you go," she said, as if encouraging a child. It enraged him, which gave him enough strength to sit up, face her.

Just because she's offering a reward doesn't mean anything I did was willing.

Longing for longing means nothing at all.

"Are you sure you don't want a reward?" she said. "It could pertain to other people as well as yourself."

His instinct was to deny her instantly, but he paused.

Sahara.

If there was a way to rescue her—and the reward was already offered—for almost nothing, really—

"Could you—keep Sahara from Rave? Permanently?" He wondered if that was too much to ask.

"He has been acting too entitled as of late."

It was that easy? "Will she be given to anyone else?"

"She must have a role here."

"Could she be my liaison? As a… test before becoming an agent?"

"I suppose we could do that."

Despite himself, gratitude poured through him. "Thank you."

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Except set me free. And stop trying to… get to me.

She climbed to her feet, disregarding Raul's offer of help, although her hand pressed against her stomach as if in pain.

"Will you honor this deal?"

"Of course. Now I have to get back to work. I'll see you soon." She gave a little wave and slithered through the doorway.

Raul helped him back to his cell.

For a long time, he lay there, his eyes closed, trying to reset his mind to seeing things upright again.

Against the darkness, a bright light burned like an eternal flame.

It was only after he opened his eyes again, an afterimage impressed on his vision, that he realized the light was Elena, at the moment of her gliding through the door to rescue him.