Chapitre 318: 37. November Rain.
I did not know how long it had been, as I lay there, still recovering from the torment of that satanic shuttle. The stench of my sweat filled the air, mingling with the overpowering scent of fear and horror. As all the viscous substances had been dripped in my veins, he wordlessly untied me, only to secure me once again to a table surrounded by menacing stalks.
My hands, feet, and head were tightly fastened, rendering me completely immobile. With a click of a switch, the ominous stems moved, closing in on me once more. The first assault of the device targeted my vocal cords, paralyzing them and leaving me incapable of uttering even the slightest sound. Then, it invaded my ears, causing an ungodly pain that felt as though my head was being torn apart.
And then, my eyes. A spreading mechanism infiltrated my vulnerable orbs, inserting thin needles into my eyeballs, as if trying to pierce through them. The sensation was agonizing, intensified by the spray of an unknown substance into my already tortured eyes. The pressure built, the pain escalating to unimaginable levels. Never before had I experienced such excruciating torment as I did in that moment.
The machine seemed to possess an eerie awareness, halting just before my eyes were on the verge of bursting. Meanwhile, my ears continued to endure relentless torment, the combination of ear and eye pain becoming unbearable. The thin needles then ventured into my cheeks, searching for the dreaded trigeminal nerves. A searing, scorching pain spread across my face, leaving me utterly helpless. I felt as though there was no escape from this unrelenting agony, and to my bewilderment, I remained conscious throughout it all.
Gradually, my vision began to fade, and the mounting pressure within my eyes caused my retinas to deteriorate. I was grateful that I no longer had to endure the harsh, unforgiving glare of the fluorescent light. But as the pain encroached upon my chest, gripping my heart with an unbearable force, I struggled to catch my breath. I knew probes were invading my very core. My heart, lungs, and all the big arteries and veins were their target. I could feel several arrhythmias, each one leaving me panting in pain, confused, and in pain. My body struggled hard.
The pain spread, infiltrating my liver, spleen, pancreas, and intestines. Eventually, I became unrecognizable to myself. Lost in a sea of torment, I couldn't distinguish who I once was amidst the unending agony. I had no sense of where I was, who I was, or how long this torture had been going on. Pain after pain melted into a nightmare, leaving my mind in turmoil and anguish.
Occasionally, Damon would move me, causing the torment to shift alongside. I would regain my vision, only to have it stolen away again. Once more, I found myself engulfed in darkness, screaming, weeping, pleading, desperately attempting to escape. Damon showed no mercy. His actions were relentless.
The pain, the agony, the anguish, the fear, all gnawed at me, rendering me utterly defenseless. Each time, I could only hear his voice as he lifted me from the shuttle, inserted an IV, and coldly narrated my condition. He spoke of the fragility of my bones, the loss of my sight, the number of eyeballs I had already grown.
To him, I was only a piece of meat. And then, occasionally, he would conclude his report and approach the table, explaining my current state. I, too, was a doctor, so I understood to some extent. But then, he allowed his pleasure to surface. Oh, how he reveled in it, wholly and disturbingly wrong. His hand would brush my forehead, sending shivers of revulsion against my spine. He had sheared my hair almost completely.
My brain had been manipulated, causing confusion and intermittent agony. I felt myself growing weaker, emaciated, chilled, enduring such excruciating pain that it was a marvel I didn't scream incessantly.
Damon leaned over me, time eluding my senses, and uttered, "Didn't I warn you, baby? You'd wish this was merely a rib crusher and stabber. My toys are quite exquisite. Now, let's proceed to the next apparatus."
Tears welled in my eyes as fear and terror consumed me, no longer willing to endure the horrors that awaited. Yet he entered, clad in an apron, and transported me to another shuttle. There, my limbs were restrained, spread apart, the lid forcefully closed and secured.
The machine began its mission to dismantle and torment my bones and muscles, contorting my limbs with searing pain. It ripped away the remnants of my sanity, plunging me into a darkness of utter confusion and helplessness, an indescribable anguish that surpassed any I had ever known. My torment continued—day after day.
I could gauge some sense of how long I had been here if I listened to Damon's dictations, but then again, I was too tired to really understand a word he said. This entire scheme, this torturing, this medical, clinical side, was somewhat super creepy, and I didn't have any superpower that could have helped me endure this. I was just a broken creature, a tortured woman, by her own husband.
I found myself once again inside the cramped shuttle, where the sharp blades grazed my skin, causing a searing pain. Initially, the discomfort was bearable, but as the blades dug deeper, the agony intensified. Suddenly, I experienced a sensation of innumerable tiny hooks piercing my skin, tugging at it relentlessly. My flesh resembled a net, sliced open, yet it had a feeling. I don't need working nerves to feel pain. All I need is living tissue. This is right about my curse and the damn nasty one.
The excruciating pain spread throughout my entire body, overwhelming me to where I believed I could endure no more. At that moment, darkness enveloped my vision, rendering me unconscious. Damon jolted me awake forcefully, prying open the lid, its sound echoing through the room.
As the lid opened, a rush of ice-cold water cascaded over my broken skin, sending a shiver down my spine. The pain made my vision go white. The intense brightness of the lights made it impossible to open my eyes, leaving me disoriented and vulnerable. My body felt completely drained, weakened by the relentless torment, yet Damon showed no mercy.
After rinsing me off, Damon meticulously adorned himself with a plastic apron and long gloves, their sterile scent filling the air. With careful precision, he lifted me off the machine, his grip firm and unyielding. As he carried me back to the table, I could feel every jolt and movement, exacerbating the pain and agony that had already consumed me. He inserted a drip into my cannula, and once again, a greenish-yellow liquid seeped out, its acrid smell lingering in the room.
Surprisingly, he didn't bother restraining me anymore, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. He removed the apron and gloves, hanging them on a nearby hook, before approaching the machine. He retrieved his dictation machine, its mechanical hum filling the air, as he began to dictate his observations. The sound of his voice, cold and detached, cut through the silence.
"Day 42. The subject was on machine number three for 12 hours. The subject's skin is now 85% peeled, yet the subject continues to show improvement. The weight is currently 36 kilos. The subject appears disoriented, lethargic, and fatigued, but somehow still able to endure. Bag number 102 is now dripping. IV infusions seem to have no side effects. Medication management has been satisfactory. The subject's psyche is shattered, displaying apathy and unresponsiveness. Mechanical management is deemed unnecessary. I will now proceed with the visceral stress test, reference number 5325. The entire test will be recorded for later analysis. The subject's vital signs remain stable, and the replication enzyme is blocked. The anti-hibernation agent was administered at the beginning of the experiment, with no information on its efficacy. The subject's reproductive organs have atrophied. The uterus and ovaries were removed at the start of the experiment. No signs of potential fertilization were observed, justifying their removal. The subject's blood volume has decreased by 35%, now reaching approximately 22 liters. Testing continues until the Subject is too far gone, I suspect a few days or maybe a week. We are closing in point of no return."
Damon continued to type and analyze the results, his focus unwavering. Exhausted and helpless, I turned my head wearily, my senses overwhelmed by the harsh reality of my deteriorating condition. I could only imagine the horrors that awaited me - being forced into one of the three shuttles or two tables, where I would be subjected to unimaginable pain while Damon watched with sadistic pleasure.
He would jelly my abdominal cavity whenever he could, taking advantage of any opportunity to penetrate my broken body. Meaning that I wasn't too broken, too damaged by my insides so that jelly would stay in, not burst out. And there were the strange baths, where the liquid he submerged me in would seep into my open wounds, causing a mixture of agony and healing. One shuttle would rack my nerves; that was the first one; one would torment my muscles and joints, and one would destroy my internal organs. I do not know how many times I have been in one of them—too many times.
Despite it all, a small glimmer of hope remained within me, a miraculous resilience that allowed me to continue healing, even in the face of such cruelty. Maybe I could get better if he only stopped. I knew that it had been weeks, and there was no hope of saving as Damon had explained to me how he had taken precautions this time, so not even Saint Charles could not find him.
He looked at me and said, "this will end baby, when I deem it fit. Not before. "
His eyes were dead. Utterly emotionless.
I was too tired and powerless even to feel the bloodlust. I didn't know if any of his stuff had weakened my vampire side then; I couldn't know. I could feel my blood running down onto the floor from these cuts and wounds as I lay there on the table. I could smell it; I could feel the pain racking me all over, and yet I didn't lose consciousness.
Damon was really creepy. He could walk around the table, talking to me all the time, telling me how my body would not work, telling me how some probe had drilled into my pancreas and was breaking it apart. Or how some drug was messing with my head and how long it would take me to recover when he was free to go to women.
Then he would list women and describe their appearance, but there was no passion; it was like a scientist describing a subject. Somehow, I got the feeling that he had nothing to do with these women. Well, not this side of them. Then he could go on and on about the heat, describing how my pussy had felt around his cock, and then I heard the wonder again. As if he'd never had sex. I wondered, somehow wearily, how separate this side was from Damon. My mind wandered; I was finished, as finished as I could be, and I just hoped the darkness would come and take me away. But all I had was to listen as Damon spoke. He spoke all the time. And as creepy as possible. I knew I would need some time alone when and if this never ends. This has been way too hard for me.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone