What a crock of shit. It took so much restraint for me to not call him out as a fucking liar.
“I think the drugs that you inject into my veins are enough. I don’t need the other,” I explained.
“I understand that, Brandon. But the coke is my little way of saying that I appreciate you guys. And if you refuse the gift that I’ve given you, I can’t help but feel insulted.”
I swallowed hard and glanced at his men and then back at him.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you. I just don’t want it.”
He laughed and looked behind him at his men and then patted the side of my face that he had slapped just moments ago.
“Such a strong-willed young man, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t help but think about Eli and how he stabbed me in the back. Sebastian stood and reached into the pocket of his black pants.
“Dr. E said you were arehabilitated cutter,” he mocked before he tossed a razor blade between my red and purple bruised knees. “I say otherwise, Brandon.” Sebastian snidely made his opinion known.
Glinting off the ground, the lustrous silver metal caught my attention.
“You see, Brandon, Dr. E wasn’t the only one who could successfully fuck with your mind. I studied psychology as well, and I have to tell you, out of all of my slaves, you have been the toughest to break.”
Sebastian covered the blade with the toe of his black leather shoe and slid it closer to my bare balls. He cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrow at me, appearing surprised that I hadn’t reached for the blade. I remembered all the times that I had thought about cutting, but instead of reaching for the blade, I had reached for the phone and called Eli. The thought of Eli now almost turned my stomach.
“No, Brandon? You don’t want it?” Sebastian asked.
“No. I don’t need it,” I answered.
Sebastian smiled, baring his cigarette-stained teeth. He looked at his men and shrugged.
“We’ll see, Brandon.”
Two men came toward me, pulled me off the ground by my wrists, and guided me to the angled plywood. They situated me on my back on the sturdy board with my head at the end that was closest to the ground. The men pushed my feet together at the elevated end, causing my boney ankles to painfully rub against one another. Metal cuffs closed around my ankles, and black nylon straps were tightened across my shins, thighs, waist, abdomen and chest. They secured my wrists to the board with cold metal cuffs beside my waist. I literally couldn’t move.
Another man placed a folded white cloth over my forehead and began pouring a little bit of water onto it. Once the thin cloth was soaked and the cold water started to run down the side of my forehead into my hair, they unfolded the fabric and completely covered my face with it.
Breathing instantly became difficult, and I struggled against the restraints. I’d inhale either through my nose or mouth, and the motion from in-taking air would suction the cloth against me, obstructing the airway.
More water was poured over my face, saturating the cloth, and then they stopped pouring the water. My body and mind began to panic. I couldn’t get enough air and felt like I was drowning. They repeated the process over and over, causing extreme stress as I fought against the straps and cuffs.
* * *
I could feelmyself coming around, though I didn’t open my heavy eyes. One whole side of my strained body rested against cold metal as I began to get my bearings. My head pounded unforgivingly, and my chest ached each time I inhaled. Pressure pulsated behind my eyes as I pushed myself upright with shaky arms and closed eyes. The hair on my head brushed against something hard before the top of my head bumped against something. Slowly, I opened my eyes and saw black iron bars on all sides of me.
“What the fuck,” I swore under my breath, on the verge of panic.
Ignoring the pain in my body, I swiftly moved around and looked at my surroundings. I was in a fucking cage! There wasn’t enough clearance for me to even sit up all of the way.
How did I get here?
Had I blacked out?
Remembering the anguish from the water and wet cloth, I realized that was the last thing I recalled. And now I was in a fucking cage! I’d never considered myself being claustrophobic, until now.
“Help!” I yelled and quickly grabbed my chest and head in hope of settling the pain. My heart had never pounded so erratically as it had at that moment. “Fuck!” I whispered as I realized that I was pissing uncontrollably.
Shaking and crying, I tugged on the bars of the cage. Overcome with weakness, my hands slipped from the black bars causing me to fall back into my own puddle of urine. Crying only made my head hurt more. With quivering limbs, I managed to push myself away from my piss and curled up against the opposite side of the cage, clutching the bars.
I didn’t know how long I stayed curled up in that position, clinging against the bars. It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed before the door to this room opened. Two men walked in first with Sebastian following closely. One man carried a green rubber garden hose and went to the wall closest to the cage. He attached the hose to a brass fixture on the wall, and then turned the water on. Without a word from any of them, he aimed the black nozzle of the hose at me and sprayed me in the face.
