Chương 289: 8. The Sign.
That was the beginning of my torment. The first week was a haze of drugged confusion. The scent of various drugs lingered in the air, their bitter taste coating my tongue. I was always under the influence, barely aware of my existence. Then, they led me into a cold, steel cage, the sound of heavy doors slamming shut echoing in my ears. Fully medicated, I prepared to fight demons.
It was a delicate balance of terror and control. I had to keep my rage suppressed long enough for the meds to kick in, supposedly. The drugs coursed through my veins, numbing my senses. But as I stepped into the cage, the anger surged within me, fueled by the conflicting effects of the medication. It was a volatile combination, one that benefited me. Yet, in those fights, I emerged victorious more often than not.
It wasn't always easy. The drugs they pumped into me weren't just sedatives. They preferred to administer tablets through a feeding tube, slowly taking effect over an agonizing hour or two. I had to be precise, to kill without losing control. The arena where I fought was a colossal structure hidden within the depths of a massive ship. It resembled an ancient amphitheater, with rows of seats rising around it. Fenced corridors guided the fighters toward the central cage.
Apparently, the ship housed multiple containers, each holding a different fighter. Six doors always opened, releasing opponents one after another. There was nothing inherently wrong with that, but just as I would find my rhythm, the rage on but under control, then a surge of synthetic adrenaline from the tablets would kick in. It threatened to push me into a frenetic state, where nothing else mattered. It almost blew my rage wide open. But then I noticed them, sitting in the bleachers - Nick, Elias, Rebekah, and even Kol and Freya. Spike and Drusilla joined them, adding to the chaos.
Oh, fuck. Every day, as I stepped into the arena, the announcer, Horatio, would showcase what had been done to me. And who had requested it? My eyes locked with Nick's, silently conveying that I was not as unhinged as he believed. My rage did not control me. Betting began before the fighting began.
At first, Horatio was proud, thinking I would be an easy target, destined to lose. This fight club had a twisted rule - killing wasn't necessary if one couldn't do it physically. I witnessed a couple of battles where two victims, broken by torture, were pitted against each other. They achieved little, their minds shattered by pain and drugs. Sometimes, both would succumb, unable to endure any longer.
I killed everyone who came against me. Not just out of rage, I saw my opponents, who weren't here voluntarily. They had also been forced and drugged, poisoned, and their torment ended when they came against me. Even though they were demons, I felt mercy, a kind of grace. I tried to end their suffering fast. Give them euthanasia, twisted one.
There were some who were there voluntarily, and then the satanic song played now and then. But I was in such a fierce mood that it didn't paralyze me now because every time it played. It was the first week of just the drugs and the satanic song, but I felt the fear was maybe a little less. I didn't know if it was the drugs, rage, or if I was getting rid of the satanic programming.
The second week was on the subject of metals. Someone had then told them how different metals affected me. The horror foursome developed by Sark came on the very first day, first I was injected with such brutal doses that I had fucking Metal headaches and then I got some nice implants in me that were dripping out all the time. So Iridium, Rhodium, Cobalt and Vanadium.
Now, there was no Salvatore to bind the metals, but luckily, there was no nitrogen silver because then, well, I probably wouldn't have been fighting, just begging the demons to make a scene with me. Mimosa and Mirella had a great time advising me.
In fact, Mirella started collecting different demon anatomy information, so it was easier for me to kill when I knew where to strike. For some reason, not everyone was thrilled with me. I was metallized up to my eyeballs. Every day, four new metals came in. They were dripped into the vein, and implants were put in, so the next day, it was iron, aluminum, gold, and silver.
Now, there were no drugs but just the metals, and I probably had drugs in my body from the old days even though Mirella was trying to chop up and store a large molecular stockpile so that when this was over, I might treat myself.
The next day I got copper, mercury, tungsten, tin. Well, tungsten didn't take my memory as much as it always did for a while; it also brought such bliss and a feel-good feeling. Good to know. I just wondered when they kept putting in new implants and if there was any room in me to put into anything.
And when they kept shackling me to the goddamn wall so I couldn't dig anything out of myself. Four new metals came in every day, and I just hoped I'd remember what I'd got. But after that week, the metals got so bad on Mirella that she retreated to sleep in the shelter of her coffin. The Mimosa couldn't get away from me. Something about this prevented it.
In the third week it was the turn of the implants. New ones were put in every day. I had quite a few different drug implants, most of which had already broken down. But they might have metal in them, or they might have struck electricity.
I could feel the power of the song diminishing noticeably, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I blew it out of effect completely. Some implants were little plastic boxes, and then some were like pieces of satanic jelly shot into my gut.
Demons abounded, and now these were all volunteers. When I started to be bruised and battered to that extent, I didn't heal quite so well; I was thin and dirty with wounds—no big deal. I'll be fine. My rage grew steadily all the time, and nothing mattered. I just kept my rage up so well I killed.
By the fourth week after the fight, I was always taken to the wall in chains, where I was always treated differently. One of their favorite things was to put an electric spike collar on me and let it strike randomly, but hard. Then try to build up strength for the next 18 hours.
Oh, I had plenty of use for my rage and my teeth. I ate every demon I could get my hands on and let my vampire side get stronger and more present, so the electricity wasn't as bad as they would have hoped.
Electricity was a popular weapon against me, and I was fitted with horrible implants that randomly struck through my entire body. The pain made me freeze completely. I was also getting hit but not thinking of the future, nothing but the next moment.
Now, I was reacting. As my condition deteriorated well, some of the audience was excited, but more than once, I saw remorse and even concern flash across the faces of Nick and Elias. But now, I let my rage and contempt show as clearly as I could. One thing I knew about the future. I had to concentrate on those predictions again because here I was when my family, Nick, and Elias, betrayed me, so at least that was true.
Never mind, the rage was enough, and I had got some metal apparently in such a form that Mirella could be awake at all times for a moment and help with some bonding agents. She didn't want to waste our molecular reserves yet but used them very sparingly, meaning I didn't get such a terrible use out of things.
The fifth week was poisons and toxins, so as I was being prepared, I was getting them nicely from natural sources such as various animals, from snakes to scorpions to centipedes. Been there and done that.
I didn't die from it, but oh fuck, it could hurt; the pain and anguish were constantly racking through my body. Well, there's nothing like rage to help. Mirella was thrilled with these and tried to get a few good bits into my molecular stockpile.
My vampire side was getting stronger by then, so much so that sometimes I felt my hair trying to turn white, so I had a ferocious bloodlust. I knew subconsciously that when this torment was over, my recovery was going to be slow, tricky, and long. Slow because I'm probably in really terrible shape, tricky because I can't take much help when my vampire side is this superficial, so I don't risk people, and long as I said, I'm going to be pretty damn done for.
My hatred for that fucking licker demon grew as he came and licked, groped, and bitched at me almost every day.
Week six was another crazy week. Now, there could be anything from electrocution to adrenaline implants and a good dose of the horror quartet on top.
They had one problem, though. When I was a zombie, I didn't have a heartbeat, or apparently, I wasn't breathing, but I was functioning; well, being such a special character, I didn't need that. I can manage without functioning organs. Likewise, Mimosa and Mirella were actually perfectly fine, and that was a relief because I could let Mimosa go when this fucking torment was over.
At one point, it just dawned on me that if the men are having such a hard time, they're probably broken or out of their minds because I don't think anyone could do this alone for eight years, and if they had someone to help them, then good for them.
In the room I was in, I was the only one of the ten that was left because when I got out a couple of times, the first thing I did was finish as many of them as possible. A couple of them died before that, and I knew as a medical student that no one could be saved, and even if they had been, no one would have survived. I did it quickly, as best I could, and the guards didn't appreciate it, but in the end, I was just alone out there in the darkness as they didn't want to risk me euthanizing any of their other fighters.
The seventh and eighth weeks were the same thing; everything was thrown at me. It was no fun being chained to the wall. And the preppers put my feet in a container with poisonous animals in it. At the same time, the collar around my neck electrocuted me, so I moved, and bugs bit me; I was in an IV getting a horror quadruple, and someone was putting a drug implant in my stomach at the same time.
I wasn't thinking about the future, not about men or anything, just about the immediate moment of what I should do next. Yes, I tried to escape many times but never got far. They had some drugs against which even rage didn't really help, and I got quite a collection of different injuries.
But one thing I did. I smashed the power of that satanic song out of my head. It affected me for quite a while, but I persevered, forcing myself to do a little at first and then a little more each time until it was almost an empowering song. It took over six weeks, but then it was gone. It was really hard work, but I got it out of my mind. I just hoped that Damon would program nothing like it into me, but I never knew.
I knew I was going to have another challenging recovery, and because I was alone, well, actually, I wasn't alone. Mimosa could be detached from me for days, and Mirella was considering it if she would try being detached, too. And I had fleas, Jake, Rob, and Ruby if I needed them. Sapphire, Colin, Hugh, Magnum, Higgins, Charles, Dresden, Constantine. Now, we would just have to endure to the end and then get on with life. As Damon said in his wedding vows, forever is a long time, and we'll just have to wait and see if we ever meet again like two ships in the night.
I won't tell you about any of the fights because I don't remember them that clearly, and second, they weren't fights. I killed, maimed, destroyed as fast as I could, and I was just as vicious as ever. And I have to admit that I won't tell you every feeling, every thought that was in my head at that time, if only because I feel Damon in my mind all the time, when I try to write, without remembering too well. He sits in his deckchair, looking at me with his eyebrows slightly furrowed as if he wants to come to me, so I just go on with my story. As I said at the beginning, I don't tell everything. I have my reasons, and I've learned my lesson over the centuries that sometimes it's just better to be silent than to be honest.
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