CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

EDWARD GRITS HIS TEETH as the whip cracks, bracing himself for the oncoming wave of agony. He greedily inhales a deep breath a split-second before the bladed tips of the whip burrow into his bare skin. He arches his back as if he can shrink away from the impact, but he does not allow himself to cry out. His teeth grind together so forcefully that his jaw aches, but not so much as a whimper flees his lips.

He will not give the bastard the satisfaction.

So when experiment 889, Gavriel--the only friend Edward has made in this infernal place--yanks the whip and the blades tear Edward's back flesh as they detach, Edward remains as still as possible, a silent stone.

"Again," Doctor Stevens hisses, frustration and annoyance underlying his rough tone. He wants to see Edward grovel and cry and beg for mercy. However, he also knows Edward will do no such thing.

"Master--" Gavriel starts.

"Again," the doctor repeats firmly. "This is your punishment as much as it is his, 889."

And Edward can feel Gavriel's apologetic gaze on his ruined back, but still, he makes no movement, no sound.

The blades bury into his flesh again, and again, and again. Edward's eyes sting with tears, but his lips press tightly together and his fists curl around the chains binding him. He dangles from the ceiling, his arms above his head, his toes barely scraping the concrete, and his entire body aches. He's trembling from the exhaustion and the pain. Doctor Stevens circles around to look him in the eye. The old man glares at him with fury and command; determination and hatred glares back at him.

"You will learn obedience, boy," the doctor hisses.

Edward spits at the doctor's feet and growls with the futile strength that he has remaining.

A slap stings Edward's cheek.

"Again," he snaps to Gavriel. After the lash, the doctor leans in close and whispers warningly, "I don't care if I have to peel your back of skin for you to obey. You will obey me."

Edward dares to laugh, a hoarse, weak sound but a laugh all the same. "I would rather endure a life in Hell than endure one with you."

"Foolish boy." The old man grins. "You don't realize you're already there. If you want your punishment to be worse, then so be it."

He snaps his bony fingers. "Light the coals, 889."

Edward hears Gavriel intake a quick breath. "Master--"

"Enough with the cowardice! Light the coals or you shall be chained next to him."

This makes Edward's shoulders tense. He knows Gavriel would do it. He would hang at Edward's side until his last breath. Gavriel had sworn an oath to Edward the day they met, the day after Edward publicly refused to fight for the sheer joy of it. Gavriel has practically acted as if Edward is his king, and yet the two treat each other as equals, as best friends. But Gavriel is loyal--and stupid--enough to take the doctor up on his threat.

Don't you dare. Just light the coals, you idiot.

It takes a great deal of willpower not to speak aloud, but Gavriel must have seen Edward tense, or perhaps he finally gathered a bit of wits. He mumbles, "Yes, Master," under his breath, then ignites a flame.

"You need to comprehend that you are mine now," the doctor says, circling Edward like a predator would prey.

Edward clenches his jaw as the doctor disappears behind him. He can't see what's occurring, but he has a pretty good idea of what's coming.

Then, after what feels like eons, he hisses through his teeth as the scorching iron melts into the flesh on the back of his shoulder. He wants more than anything to scream; to scream out of rage, out of defiance, out of pain. He keeps as silent as he can, clenching his teeth so hard he's surprised they don't break. He doesn't know what the branding says, and the doctor doesn't tell him, but it throbs steadily and burns fiercely. Forever imprinted, forever a reminder of the life stolen from him.

"Still not going to cooperate?" the doctor asks coolly, tilting his head almost in amusement.

Edward glares at him, so much hatred in his eyes that the doctor subtly looks away.

"I have other ways to make you beg my forgiveness."

Before Edward can bite back a snarky reply, the doctor shouts to the experiments outside the chamber. A handful of them pile in, but only two are carrying something--no, someones. A small girl and a woman of average height, both with bags over their heads. They're forced to their knees in front of Edward, and he chokes on a sob as the bags are snatched off.

Penelope and his mother stare up at him, his mother shrieking a horrified cry with fresh tears running down her already tear-stained cheeks. Penelope is sobbing, her face red. She's been sobbing for some time now non-stop, but she cries harder as well when she and Edward lock eyes.

Edward hears Gavriel growl, and it is then that he realizes the other three experiments were to hold him back.

Tears run down Edward's face.

"Now," the doctor whispers from behind him, so close to Edward's ear that he can feel his hot breath. It sends disgusted shudders through him. "Swear your loyalty to me. Beg for my pardon like the sorry scum you are."

"No," his mother says, her eyes fiery. She stares at Edward, and commands, "You say nothing of the sort to that bastard."

"Adorable," the doctor muses. Then, without warning, he shoves a knife into Edward's side with perfect precision, missing anything vital.

But it still hurts like hell.

His mother screams and Penelope cries, covering her face in their mother's shoulder.

Edward fights through the pain, keeping his eyes on his mother, his anchor. Such a brave woman, just and pure.

Doctor Stevens yanks the blade out, walking around in front of Edward so he can't see his family anymore. "You freed my prisoners," he growls, slashing a long line down Edward's chest. Still, he endures. Still, he is silent. "You dared to attempt escape, to attempt the utmost betrayal. Your pathetic little rebellion hadn't lasted long, you know. Now, they will see you as the coward you are. Beaten and disheartened by defeat. You cannot escape me." Another slash right across his abdomen. "You are mine." The knife digs into a fleshy spot near his hipbone. The doctor leaves it there as he whirls around to face Edward's mother.

"Your son is a disgrace, but he will be my champion whether he wants to or not. He has the most potential, and I'll be damned if I let that potential go to waste simply because he's too humane to realize it."

"One day, you will die. Just as all the rest of us will. And I hope your death is eternal suffering, so that you might understand how evil you are," his mother growls, unwavering. "You are Satan incarnate."

The doctor sidesteps so that Edward sees his maniacal grin. "I do relish in such compliments."

With a wave from the doctor, the two experiments step forward again. The doctor says, "Edward's resistance is almost admirable, however, I am on a tight schedule. Let's speed things up a bit." He snaps his fingers.

Simultaneously, one experiments tugs Penelope's hair, and the other his mother's. Both now looking upwards with blades pressed against their throats.

Edward instinctively thrashes, pulling down so hard on the chains that his wrists begin bleeding from scraping against the shackles. He sees Gavriel struggling in his peripheral vision, but he has been subdued with chains as well, bound to the brick wall with three experiments keeping him at bay. Edward ignores the raw skin around his wrists and keeps pulling, pulling, pulling. He won't let--

The doctor steps in front of him again. "All you have to do," he says lowly, "is confess. Confess what you did wrong, and beg to be forgiven. Swear loyalty to me."

"No!" his mother shouts. "Do not speak, Edward!"

Edward is crying again, a lump clogging his throat. "Please," he croaks out, but he isn't directing it to the doctor; he's pleading to his mother.

"No," she repeats.

The doctor steps aside so that he may meet his mother's eyes one more time. "Please," he says again, quieter this time, more fragile, more scared.

Her eyes burn into him like the branding on his shoulder. "I will die a thousand times over if only to keep you from caving to him. Do not let me die in vain, Edward. Don't you dare ever bow to this demon."

He inhales shakily, then looks to Penelope. "Penny." The word is barely audible.

She's crying, but she doesn't look away from him. She holds up her pinky and says, "A hero would die for what's right."

But this isn't right.

This isn't right at all.

The doctor sighs dramatically. "Will this be much longer?"

"Spare her," Edward whispers, still staring at his sister.

The doctor smiles. "What is it you must do?"

But before Edward can speak again, the doctor cuts him off with a laugh only a devil could muster. "Pity. You took too long."

With a final gesture from their master, the two experiments slice the necks of the rebels at their feet. Severed from bone, completely beheaded.

Edward screams. He screams his throat raw and his eyes droop from crying so heavily. He screams so loudly, the world shakes.

***

Harry's eyes blink open, his vision hazy. There's a fire coursing through him, an untamable beast tugging hard on its leash. He glares up at the ceiling. He does not care that he lay on a metal table. He does not care that there are wires connected to him in various places. He does not care that he has been captured again.

Two heads rolling across a concrete floor is all he sees.

Rolling right to the tips of his bare toes.

Dead eyes staring up at him.

Those dead eyes are haunting him. He sees them every moment he blinks when there is brief darkness.

His hands curl into fists, and he does not care that his wrists are bound to the table.

His chest heaves with his ragged breath, and he does not care that there are chains encircling his torso.

With no more than a quiet yet irate growl, he snaps the chains binding him. He sits up on the table, slowly, angrily. His teeth grind and his heart races. Two heads, dead eyes. Rolling, haunting. His breathing is erratic.

He pauses, wills himself to calm down. He wraps the anger up with a tight knot, saving it for later. For a better time. There is no opportunity. Storming out of here, unaware of his surroundings would be moronic. He'll wait. Bide his time. Play the mindless monster they so desperately want him to be.

But when there is an opportunity, he will not care whose blood is shed.

So long as the doctor's blood is spilled the most.