A Spiritual's Mark

Chapter 8: Breaking

-Phoenix-

“Still alive?” Chris’s voice sounded like... I wasn’t sure if it was my own screams that had ruined my hearing or if someone had found a way to alter his voice completely. It sounded like he had smoked cigarettes his whole life.

The doctor had left and not closed the door behind him, and I had been right that the vents in these rooms were connected. Chris was right on the other side of the wall, and clearly his torturer had left too to give us, or maybe rather them, a break.

Chris called out to me, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. He had heard me through the vent as well. I bet he could even hear my weak breathing and how every time I tried getting a mouthful of air into my lungs, it sounded like I was slowly drowning in my own blood. Maybe I was.

The doctor had not held back. He had cut me, electrified me, injected me with things I had no idea what they were, waterboarded me, broken my bones, and so many other things. But he had not given me the slightest hint about what he wanted from me, which meant he was messing with my brain too.

F*cker, I thought.

“I... I think,” I finally replied, not even sure he heard me, but then his chuckle echoed into my room.

“Good... that’s... good.”

“Is it?” I whispered.

He was quiet for a little while. Then I heard him groan deeply from pain as he tried shifting to get more comfortable.

“Have they... told you anything?” Chris inquired.

“No...”

“I think... I think I know what they want from you,” he told me.

I didn’t say anything. I was too weak to talk. I just lay there, trying my best not to succumb to the darkness, because I didn’t want to be caught off guard by the doctor suddenly coming inside.

“A spy. They want... a spy,” he revealed.

The thought had crossed my mind, but so had hundreds of others, so I wasn't sure what to believe. A spy made sense though. No one knew where I was or what I had been doing. Breaking me and sending me back. That was a good plan. Get someone on the inside. Was that why Connor hadn’t killed his son yet either?

I knew he wanted to make it a public affair and such, but he had had many good opportunities. He could have just shipped Chris’s head back to the king. That would certainly send a message, but breaking his son, turning him to his side, and making him betray the king and the rest... damn, that was even better. That was perfect, in fact. It would finally give Connor what he wanted.

“He won’t kill you,” I stated, my eyes falling closed on their own, but I forced them open again.

“No, I am starting to think he might not.”

“You as a traitor is even better.”

“Much better...” Chris remarked, his voice lowering a little towards the end. “Kate will hate me... everyone will.”

“You haven’t betrayed them yet,” I managed, coughing a little afterwards.

“But I will...”

“Adler!” I snarled.

“I don’t know how long I can keep this up,” he informed me. “I picture her. Kate. I see my son, I see everyone, but... but I am not sure how much longer it will keep me from going insane.”

“What about... your sister?!” I inquired.

“I see her too.”

“She is freaking pregnant... Maybe she has even given birth. Now is not the f*cking time... to give up,” I coughed, having to take breaks in the middle of my sentences in order to get the words out.

I heard him chuckle again. It was clear he was breaking. He had reached that point where his mind simply couldn’t process the pain anymore, and instead, he was starting to laugh at it all. Soon, he would stop laughing and simply grow quiet. He would do anything to make the pain stop.

Hell, I had only been tortured once by them, and I had to say I had forgotten what it was like being treat this way, knowing that you couldn’t run, you couldn’t do anything but accept the pain. Accept the torture. I did not think Chris was weak because he had reached a point where he might not be able to return to his old self. As I had already said, no one was unbreakable.

“I know...” he expressed. “I f*cking... know.”

Just then, another horrific scream from the queen cut through the air. My whole body tensed as I waited for the scream to subside. Sh*t, this was bringing too much of the past back to life.

“If you get out of here,” he began.

“No!”

“What?” he asked.

“We aren’t f*cking doing... that,” I stated.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” he snapped.

“I know what you are going to say. It’s a no.”

“Wow, denying a dying person their final wish,” he chuckled, yet the laughter was dry.

“You will find your way out,” I assured him.

“You don’t know that...” He was right. I didn’t. I wasn’t even sure why I had said it. I was never the optimist. I was never the one who tried to encourage people to go on or keep fighting. So, why was I suddenly trying to help Chris?

Maybe I had grown soft while being a part of Hunter’s crew. I wasn’t saying Hunter was soft. I was saying that I was no longer just a mindless soldier thirsty for blood. I had started to live a little as well. I had kind of put the past in the back of my mind. It meant the dead thing in my chest might have started to beat a little without me knowing, and that meant soft in my dictionary.

I was a cold and brutal person who didn’t care about anyone, and now I was telling someone not to give up. I was trying to give them what... hope? Ridiculous. Maybe it wasn’t even because I had started living with Hunter and the rest. Maybe it was this thing on my shoulder that made it feel like a second heartbeat almost existed beneath it. Maybe it wasn’t even my own heart I could feel beating. Maybe it was... hers.

“Hey! Did you die?” Chris called.

“What?” I inquired.

“You were so quiet that I thought for a moment you might have kicked the bucket,” Chris remarked.

“No, just... thinking.” Thinking about her.

I had done what Chris had done as well. I had pictured the people, or rather, the person I couldn’t stop thinking about. The person who brought me peace. Goddess, I wished I knew her name. I just wanted to know something about her. I knew it would make me feel so much stronger if I just knew a little, something to hold onto. Right now, I only had a mental picture that was slowly fading, yet it wasn’t so bad.

She had almost been completely naked, and she had looked at me with such innocent and maybe slightly scared eyes. Sh*t, I wanted so badly to go back to that moment and just sink deep into the p*ssy that had been offered to me and clearly would only be mine to f*ck from then on. Because even though I had run, I knew we were mates, and that meant she belonged to me and me only.

Any male who tried to put their filthy hands on her would quickly find themselves without any or a d*ck. Then, afterwards, after I had killed whoever had touched her, I would have her again. I would f*ck her even with blood still on my hands, knowing I would be the only one to pound, to pleasure, and to punish her.

Even if she had not encouraged anyone to touch her, I knew her mere presence was tempting. She was out of this world! It was not hard for anyone to lose their mind over. Yet I was the only one allowed to touch, and I would make sure that not just everyone else knew, but also her. She would only be screaming for me.

Sh*t, this was not good, I thought. Even half-conscious as I was, my body reacted to the mental images in my mind. I really was sick, wanting to f*ck the little female with blood on my hands, but what could I say? I had a strange thirst for it and her, and combined, it would be ten thousand times better. Sh*t, I would f*cking leave bruises wherever my hands would dig into her skin as I took her hard over and over. I knew I would never get enough. My c*ck had grown hard just from thinking about it, and that was a pretty good indication that she already had me completely at her mercy.

I didn’t like being touched very much. Whoever I did end up screwing was always bound, or I made sure to keep their hands away. But something in me craved to feel her even closer, feel her hands on me, and leave my scent all over her skin like she would leave hers on mine. I would never just want a quick shower afterwards. I would never just think of her as a way to scratch an itch. I would be so f*cking obsessed.

“Phoenix?” Chris called.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“You know we aren’t getting out, right?” he inquired.

“You think I am plotting our escape right now?”

“Well, you said you were thinking,” he countered.

“Yeah well, not about a plan.”

“No? Is it a certain person who has come to mind?” he suggested, his voice indicating that he saw right through me.

“Something like that...” I murmured.

Chris didn’t get a chance to comment on what I had said. Voices suddenly travelled our way, and it was clear whatever break we had been given was over.