Trigger Warnings: Abuse/torture, pain, violence

Thomas' POV

Once Silas realized I wasn't going to play this dumb game of his, he had whipped out a knife and held me at knife point, forcing me to stand up off the mattress. My heart was pounding when he kicked it away and adjusted my chains so I was flat against the wall, my arms spread in either side of me while my legs are tied together.

I watch him silently as he stalks the room in front of me, his eyes staying on my body as he paces back and forth making my skin scrawl in disgust.

The knife in his hand is fluttering expertly between his fingers and though I know I should be scared, I'm only ready to defend myself and Zack in any way I can. Even if that means laying down my life, hopefully giving him at least a fighting chance to survive this psychotic bastard and maybe even find his Second Chance. Even if the idea of him loving someone else and giving his heart to another breaks me down in a way that makes me want to just give up now so I don't have to worry about thinking about the possibility of that future again.

I'm pulled out of my torturous train of thoughts when Silas turns towards me and begin to take off his jacket, dripping the fabric off his shoulders so that it slides to the ground. Once it's off, he rolls up his sleeves and takes the knife back in his hand as he walks over to me with a calculated grin on his face.

My eyes hold his gaze, trying not to focus on the knife that's flickering between his fingers so fast, it would only make me dizzy if I did. I don't want to show him any ounce of fear, steeling my gaze and my body, trying to prepare myself for what's to come, but secretly knowing I can't.

I feel the knife raise from hanging beside his side, watching it from the corner of my eye as the tip of the blade touches the base of my neck, pressing in hard enough to puncture the skin, a trail of blood dripping down my neck and into my shirt until I feel it disappear on to my torso.

      "Now I'm going to ask you some questions tonight, Thomas, and you're going to answer every last one." He tells me and I don't answer him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction to hear the tears in my throat that aren't for him, but everything I will be leaving behind. I swallow the lump in my throat, the action making my adam's apple dig further into the knife but I don't flinch away, rather embrace the pain. "Where does Ares live?"

      I think about my answer, trying to decide if I want to lie, or not even try to appease him and eventually I say fuck it. If my days are numbered on this earth then I may as well make the best of them.

      "Somewhere in the city I assume." I tell him, my voice sounding bored and unbothered by the blade pressing into my skin or the man that could so easily use to against me. Silas glares at me, his thumb coming up to brush against his nose as he steps back before pointing it at me.

     "You don't take this shit seriously, do you?" He asks me and this time, I decide to be honest.

      "I take it very seriously. I just don't care." I assure him and I watch as anger flares up in his body and at first I think he's going to do something rash but he takes a deep breath and laughs shaking the knife in the air as he turns away.

      "You're good, I'll give you that." He says and the way he says it I'm not sure if it should be the highest compliment or the lowest insult since it's falling from his lips. "But you can't provoke me into killing you, Thomas. I need you. And you are going to tell me what I need to know." He informs me and I can't help but think it's cute that he thinks that even though I barely listen to the love of my life, that his mean words will break me down. Adorable.

      I dealt with this type of shit for the first portion of my life. This is only making me comfortable, especially knowing that I'm doing it to save someone else.

      "What is Ares' real name?" He asks me, stopping his pacing to face me head on, a few feet away and I stare him in his eyes when I answer this time, wanting him to know the truth in my words.

      "Spiderman. Sometimes Peter Parker." I tell him with a tired grin, my cheek stinging from the cut and at first I congratulate myself until I see him rise the knife and throw it, the blade getting stuck in my right arm making me cry out through gritted teeth.

      The pain was sharp and sudden as the metal ripped through my shirt and into my flesh, I felt the white hot pain flare up only a second later making me hiss at the feeling.

      Silas walks over to me slowly, his gaze focused on my arm with a look in his eyes that makes me want to throw up and struggle away but I don't move, allowing him to get closer to me. "Where the fuck does he live?" He asks me, the vein in his forehead poking out angrily and even as my teeth grit in pain and I want to let the tears flow from my eyes as he stares me down a could inches away from me, I still tilt my head back and head butt him in the face making him stumble back with a surprised growl.

     Though the sudden movement makes me dizzy, I raise my head to see his blood gush out of his nose but startle when I see the color. It's black.

    Pitch black. The color of a full Daemon.

     Silas is a Daemon.

     And it's that realization that makes any ounce of hope fall apart before my eyes as I go limp in my chains. I no longer have the will to fight against him as he comes towards me harshly and unchains me from the wall, a needle being stabbed into my neck, the pain not even making me finch as I'm sent into a downward spiral.

     I feel myself being moved but the drugs along with my train of thought distracts me from paying any attention to where we're going until I feel my body being thrown on top of a metal table. My vision is hazy and unfocused as I stare up at the ceiling and I can only vaguely feel my limbs being stretched to me tied down to the cold hard table beneath me but I don't care. There's no reason to care.

     Once I'm laid out and secure, Silas comes into view once more with a crooked evil smile and a longer, sharper knife in his hand than before. I stare at it, trying to figure out what it's for, my mind full or soup and meaningless words as I try to decipher whats going on.

      "It's okay, Thomas. You don't have to answer my questions today. Or the next day. But know that every time you don't, we'll come back here and you'll wish it was Ares in place of you. And you will wish you were dead." He tells me and those last words echo over and over in my head at the truth that rings in them.

     Wish you were dead.

     Dead.

     Die.

     And a sharp sudden pain that shoots from my lower abdomen and up my side to the bottom of my top cage. The cut isn't deep enough to warrant stitches but the blade is sharp enough for me to feel every tear in my skin as I scream, the sound coming from down a tunnel.

      "The drug your on makes every single thing you feel, feel ten times worse. I'm barely touching you and you're falling apart. Pathetic." He tells me and I feel the tears rise over the brim of my eyes to fall against my cheek. I go to open my mouth to share a resounding fuck you but the only thing that falls from my lip so the cry of pain that forces it's way out of my chest as the knife glides against the skin of my lower abdomen.

     "Now. Let's carve a picture out of you, shall we?"

~~~~~~~~~~
Short chapter because something is wrong with me today. I don't know what it is but my typing is shit and my focus is worse. I had a plan for writing today and I'm still going to try and make it happen.

Thoughts?

Comment?

QOTD: Do you like sour cream and onion chips?