Torture, day in, day out. My mind was so stymied, I couldn't think.
The boys were doing okay, the fact that they had food, was enough to keep me restful.
Me, on the other hand, they didn't feed me, I was more of a test rat to them, which made my demon possession ten times more active and aggressive.
It got to the point where I was drifting in and of consciousness.
On the torture part, I got a pass, being a female, they didn't push me as hard.
They whipped Mylo, pushed him to run, there was rarely any days where he didn't vomit because of it. They let spiders and rats crawl around on his torso and face, which made it hard for him to be around, because the slightest tickle sent him panicking 
Apollo on the other hand was worse. The bathed him in boiling water and ripped his feathers out, one by one, in an ongoing pattern, but they grew back overnight, so it happened everyday. They also used his wings as an ashtray, which burnt little blackened holes in the pure white feathers.
All they did to me was make me listen to ongoing whispers, which got louder and softer, but they were in Latin, which is starting to seem pretty common, and they performed experiments, since I didn't seem to react negatively or positively to heat or cold. Which meant hot coals pressing to my skin, which I felt the pain from, just didn't feel the need to react.
We were all mentally exhausted, sleep was needed, but they changed our positions everyday. One day, we all hung from the ceilings like bats. 
It was hard to keep Apollo's nightmares at bay, he would thrash and scream in his sleep, batting around his wings, which only twisted them more.  
I was so physically ready to die, as I became more and more infatuated with eternal rest. 
Mylo was a trooper, though he was always so clammy and cold, shivering at all times, always wide awake though, because he feared that a spider or rat would crawl into his mouth and make a nice home in his salivary glands. 
I could stand everything, or that's what I made it seem like, I always had a mini-breakdown in the dead of the night. Which only Mylo could hear, and helped a little bit, but not enough, not nearly enough.
The daily food was a small chunk of bread and apple juice, which was served once daily.
The atmosphere was the worse bit of it, everyone had a bored, lifeless expression on their face, including the evil people behind this daily grind of suicidal thoughts and screams. 
I sit in a room twiddling with my fingers, as they play the repetitive reel of Latin whispering. Which I had started to memorize, so I whispered gently along, My tongue carefully forming the soft words. 
From here, I could hear screams from Apollo in the boiling tub. 
"It will happen soon." My father says, his voice echoing throughout my tired head. "Just be prepared." 
I hum a response. Still whispering to the Latin woman and man droning on. On what I think their dinner plans are. 

Soon enough I was back in the quiet cell. Mylo humming a straight note, for an exceptional amount of time. On his chest he wore a long bloodied bandage, because they whipped in the same spot for too long, which cut him much too deep. 
Apollo wouldn't stop trembling, it was like he was cold, even though he had just been soaked in boiling water for around an hour. Maybe he had been overworked, his skin trying to cool off his red, blistered skin. 
I myself had a blistering hole in my right foot, which sweltered and stung every time I moved.
"I wish they'd just kill us." Apollo whispers.
I look up at him. "Don't say that." Even though I halfheartedly agreed, a 6 year old shouldn't be throwing around death wishes.
"It's true, we'd be better off dead." Mylo says.
I look up at Mylo, who had tears rolling down his cheeks.
"I've had enough, I'm ready to be murdered, in any sick way they see fit." He says, his voice tender with raw emotion. 
I nod, letting my head fall. 

The next day we weren't woken up like usual, but left in our cell. 
"Whatever they have planned for today, shouldn't take this long, unless it's gonna kill us." Apollo jokes dryly.
I nod. "Let it."
Whatever they were planning was certainly life threatening. 
Mylo picks up on my uncertainty. "It will be fine, Hazee, we'll be okay." He says, trying to coax me. 
I felt my head throbbing, so i pushed it backward, so it made a harsh thud against the brick wall. 
"You okay?" Apollo asks. 
I nod, letting a soft hum cross my lips. 
"I think it's getting worse." Apollo whispers.
Mylo hums, his response not enough for words.
The creaky metal door, opened, light streaming into the room.
I tilt my head to look at the door. Two guys dressed completely in white stood there, hunting rifles in their hands.
One other one walks in from in between them, holding a taser. 
He walks toward me, unhooking the chains with a remote. 
I fall into a pile on the concrete floor. My limbs feeling like they weighed tons. 
He grabs me by my shoulder and hooks his forearms under my shoulders. He starts dragging me out the door. 
I dig my heels into the ground, struggling, trying to get free.
The other two part from the door, one standing beside Apollo and Mylo. 
I was whimpering, knowing what comes next. 
The two guys both cock their guns, pointing them at Mylo and Apollo's heads.
It is like something clicked in my brain, and I start flailing my legs. My head pounding, the Latin whispers filling my head. 
Mylo holds out his hand, probably as a way to calm me. 
I elbow my holder in the face, and wave my hand. That's when it happened.