I continued to do the gigs. I had received no messages, so I didn't know what happened. I'd been back on the road for a week after that minor incident, but I hadn't heard a peep from the gentleman. I was at Texas' house, and I drove out. I figured I'd stay at the house for a couple of days and then move on.
I had already finished the list Mimosa had given me the day before and was about to leave to empty my safe deposit box. I got out of the car and locked it. When I got to the front door and dug the key out of my pocket, someone grabbed me tightly, and I felt a prick in my neck before everything went black.
I woke up to stand on a cold metal rack, my arms stretched out to the sides and bound tightly with strong leather straps. The dimly lit shed allowed me to see my surroundings, but the absence of any means of escape filled me with a sense of dread. Damon approached me with a sneer on his face, his presence emanating a foul stench like that of a wet dog.
Summoning my courage, I looked at him and said, "Damien, right?"
His mouth twisted into a mocking smile as he turned around, confirming my guess. "That's right, baby," he replied, his voice dripping with malice. "You've been quite the talker, spreading your stories everywhere. Luckily for me, I love to manipulate. It's time for me to enjoy and continue my little experiment."
Damon enclosed me within a box-like structure, securing my body in place. I found myself seated on some kind of saddle, relieved that I wasn't hanging solely by my limbs. He adjusted the saddle and positioned movable stands near my arms and legs to support my weight. He placed my arm near one rack and fastened it with a long steel pipe with multiple jointed stems. Hoses, similar ones positioned near my feet, connected tanks beneath the rack to these stems.
Naked and still under the influence of drugs, I was tightly bound and unable to free myself, no matter how hard I tried. To intensify my discomfort, Damon approached with a black hood and placed it over my head, enveloping me in darkness. The anticipation of what was to come made my heart race, while the inability to see only heightened my anxiety.
"Babe, you've got a full-body stabber," Damon taunted, gesturing towards the apparatus surrounding me. "And these, well, I call them injectors. They'll inject your limbs with herbs, medicines, and metals."
He lifted the hood slightly, exposing my nose while keeping my eyes hidden. Damon brought a portable table closer, the squeaking wheels grating on my nerves. It held a hose that seemed ominous in its presence. Standing in front of me, my head secured to a support, he inserted a nasal cannula into me, pushing it all the way to the beginning of my small intestine. Then, he brought a drip tray containing several bags of different metals, carefully explaining each step of his twisted process.
I said, my voice dripping with disdain, "If you think I want to spend another second with you after this, you're sorely mistaken."
Damon's icy gaze bore into me as he retorted, "Don't you understand, baby? You're mine, too. We've been together, and I've had enough of you always choosing Damon. But both of you soon realize that I'm here to stay. Your brief outburst at the base was all it took for me to resurface. Damon is weak, and as for being with you, that offer expired long ago. Now, I will take pleasure in making you suffer. Let's see if I've toughened you up at all. This stabber is slow. It sinks into your flesh gradually. Soon enough, your belly will be filled with metal, and your guts will be full of metals and herbs. Let's see how much stronger I've made you while I indulge myself in this act."
He opened the valve, and I felt the chilling metal seep into my stomach, all ten liters of it. The darkness within the hood felt suffocating, and I fought to push back the rising panic and maintain my composure. I refused to feel utterly helpless.
Damien sneered, "Ah, the perks of Damon's telepathy. You may not be paralyzed, but you are utterly helpless."
The excruciating pain ripped and tore at me, clawing from every direction. There was no respite, no moment of peace. It felt as if my entire body was under attack simultaneously, a torment I couldn't bear. The knives pierced slowly and mercilessly, the searing metal scorching my stomach while my limbs ignited like a raging inferno. The injectors sought out my nerves, injecting a potent medicine that sent waves of agonizing nerve pain coursing through my entire being.
My mind spiraled into chaos, leaving me disoriented, consumed by pain, and utterly helpless. The full-body stabber lived up to its sinister name, its countless blades sinking into me without mercy. The metallic taste in my mouth intensified, causing me to retch violently. Oh, what a delightful sensation, I thought bitterly. The herbs infused with aconitum and sage were overpowering, making me nauseous. Samuel had kept the extract, a makeshift remedy for inducing vomiting, just in case.
I expelled a mixture of blood, metal, and unknown substances. The stabber increased its pace and force, gradually escalating the intensity of my torment. I did not know how much longer I could endure. Damien circled around me, his constant chatter filling the air. He spoke of my lack of proper behavior, of my growing weakness. He taunted me about the amount of metal he had embedded within me, relishing in his control. Finally, he removed the hood, flooding the room with a blinding light. I shut my eyes tightly, shielding them from the harsh glare before my vision could adjust.
Then, he carefully removed the sharp stabber and the intimidating injectors from my body. The sensation of cold water rinsing over me was jarring, sending shivers down my spine. Gradually, he unhooked me from the unforgiving rack, signaling that the torturous ordeal was finally over.
However, as the excruciating pain subsided, a wave of dizziness threatened to engulf me. Before I could succumb to unconsciousness, Damien appeared in front of me, delivering a harsh blow to my stomach. The impact jolted me back to reality, ensuring that I remained conscious, albeit barely.
Donning his protective gear once again, Damien lifted my weakened body and laid me on a cold, unforgiving table. To my dismay, he proceeded to attach strange bags to me, to my cannula, one after another, causing an unsettling weight to settle upon my mind as I did not know what those bags were. They were the same as last time. Like jagged rocks, the surface beneath me felt rough and uneven, exacerbating my discomfort. Every inch of my body throbbed with pain, a constant reminder of the torment I endured.
Suddenly, Damien pressed a button, causing the center of the table to sink down, cradling me in an uncomfortable position. The surrounding stones shifted, setting off a fresh wave of agony as they pressed and scraped against my vulnerable form. Adding to my torment, Damien placed a cloth filled with stones onto my already tender stomach, trussing it.
With every movement, the stones inside the cloth dug into my flesh, aggravating the mess of metal within my abdomen. Desperately, I strained to twist my head and find a place to vomit as the concoction of mercury and herbs wreaked havoc on my senses. Time became a blur, my body weak and deteriorating as the relentless ache of the metal inside me intensified.
In the background, I heard Damien tapping on a computer, his clinical voice devoid of emotion. Once again, he spoke, his words dripping with sadistic pleasure. "The subject has been sufficiently weakened, at least for now. However, I will continue with the stabber. This is not merely a scientific endeavor but my personal gratification. Damon is aware of my existence, as is the subject, allowing for manipulation. My aim is to infuse as many bags as possible, but right now, my pleasure takes precedence."
Then, he came to retrieve me from the confined space at some point. He forcefully placed me in a scorching hot bath that seared my skin, causing excruciating pain. As I looked down, I could see blisters forming, distorting the surface of my flesh.
Once again, he inserted a needle into my vein, securing yet another cannula, and dropped mysterious bags on me, their contents unknown. He forced me to remain in the burning bath until the blisters became permanent, preventing my skin from healing.
In the intervals, he subjected me to a full-body stabbing, further weakening me, causing my weight to plummet rapidly, and sapping my strength simultaneously. Then, he returned me to the frigid steel table, where the blisters on my back burst, releasing a torrent of agony.
Occasionally, he would coldly observe me clinically like a scientist to the bug, then sit at the machine to type before dictating my worsening condition and his next sadistic plan. Bag after bag was dropped, each one containing an unknown poison or substance that infiltrated my veins.
He regarded me with the indifference of a mere piece of meat. No healing was happening anymore. My healing had shut down. I lay on that cold steel table, my skin aflame, while blood lazily seeped from the many knife wounds covering my body. My mouth tasted foul, coated in dried vomit, the contents of which I could not identify.
He approached with lengthy needles attached to syringes, injecting them into every joint: shoulders, hips, elbows, knees. After a ten-minute wait, he violently dislocated each joint, causing a sickening crunch as my limbs were contorted into grotesque positions.
The pain was unbearable, overwhelming, and as I screamed, Damien callously remarked, "Well, well, well, baby, look at you. I administered a substance to weaken your collagen, and now that your joints are stretched, the collagen is yielding more and more. Your joints will forever be infinitely loose. Infinitely."
He then pushed a gel-like substance into my joint, increasing the pressure and further stretching it. The pain caused me to lose consciousness multiple times, as it surpassed any threshold I could bear.
When I briefly regained awareness, I realized I had been drugged, rendering me helpless and unable to comprehend his dictations. Cannulas were inserted into my joints, connected to an infusion pump or similar device, periodically intensifying the pressure, while my limbs were twisted into increasingly unnatural angles. The shed was permeated with the stench of sweat, my blood, despair, various chemicals, instruments, equipment, and machinery, mingling with the odor of a wet dog.
As he approached, his gloved hand delicately grasped my carotid artery, a sharp chill running down my spine. The room seemed to darken as he drained my blood, my bloodlust surging within me. Damien's voice, dripping with sadistic pleasure, filled the air.
"Oh, Damon must be growing weary of you," he taunted, his words sinister." Soon, you'll revert to your old self when your vampire instincts struggle to maintain control. I'll keep you on edge, teasing and tempting you until everyone becomes a potential meal. And Damon sees how little he has control over your vampire side, as if you wouldn't even want to control it as he taught you in those six months when you two were cat show judges."
His voice sent shivers down my spine, but I couldn't escape the pain that consumed me. With each injection, blisters formed on my skin, intensifying the torment. He continued to drain my blood, keeping my neck bleeding, knowing somehow that was the thing that my vampire side didn't appreciate at all.
Damien seemed delighted as my vampire fangs emerged, a sign of my suffering. It had been weeks since I entered this living nightmare, Damien's voice echoing the passing of time - five agonizing weeks, to be exact. I had withered away to a mere 31 kilos, a skeletal figure.
He reveled in my torment, meticulously testing the flexibility of my joints. Relishing my weakened healing ability, he ruthlessly dislocated them, rendering my shoulder, hip, and knee immobile. Even standing became an excruciating ordeal as my joints gave way. Relentlessly, he subjected me to a full-body stabber, pushing me to the brink of consciousness, no matter the agony.
Lying on a cold, unforgiving surface, Damien's presence loomed over me. His voice took on a twisted sweetness as he spoke. "Oh, it's been a delightful six weeks," he sneered. "You're nothing more than a 26-kilo skeleton, weak and frail. Your joints scream with pain, infected and inflamed. I revel in the power this gives me, keeping Damon subdued and locked away. But wait..."
A sudden shift in his expression hinted at an internal struggle. The scent of passionfruit wafted through the air, intertwining with Damon's presence. He drew me closer, allowing me to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. The comforting aroma and touch brought a fleeting sense of security.
Damon whispered softly, "Shh...baby, it's okay."
As his hand pressed down on my shoulder joint, an unbearable agony engulfed me. Confusion clouded my mind as I struggled to comprehend his words.
"I'm not perfect, baby. I find pleasure in your pain too, just like our wedding night," he murmured, a sadistic satisfaction underlying his voice. The torment intensified, and consciousness slipped away, leaving me in a realm of relentless torture.
When Mimi finally passed out from the pain, Damien sighed and let his scent come back. Mimi believed Damon had taken over, but didn't start helping immediately. Oh, that he loved to manipulate, and knowing Mimi, she might not tell Damon a thing. Not for a long time, and once he got the upper hand, then one day, if Damon got to the surface, then Mimi and Damon's relationship would have taken another hit.
Oh, that had been easy for him to get Damon to fuck other women after that job, and then when Mimi had revealed what he had done, Damon had been horrified once again at his own weakness, and he had got to the surface. It's so bloody perfect.
He wrapped Mimi in an old moldy blanket, took her to the car, and enjoyed himself. Fine, he knew where Magnum was at the gigs, and Mimi would be good to put there. Oh, how Magnum would try to help Mimi, who had a real bloodlust and try to attack Magnum.