ALiAs_AgEnT_423
Cadet
Author's Note: This chapter is acutally and extended chapter of my other story "Forgotten Past". I wrote this chapter to give my readers of my story - a feel for what the main character, Alexa, is going through.
A short synopsis: Alexa is Irina and Jack's other daughter and Sydney's younger sister. Alexa has a son named Nicolas and she is married to Adrian Sark. So if you stumbled here by chance, feel free to check out "Forgotten Past" in the General Fiction section.
Also to those who manage these forums, I hope that what I did was okay. If not, please let me know.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 18 – Alexa’s POV
I feel pain shoot through my body, but my head is spinning and I have no control. My eyes try to adjust – slowly my surroundings are revealed. The room is chillingly cold and I realize why.
My body was stripped from my original clothes, and I was redressed in what seems to be a simple long shirt that reaches past my knees. I shudder in the coolness of air.
I realized the situation I’m in – my hands are restrained in large metal cuffs with a long chain attached to them, the chain extending to the ceiling. There I hang uncomfortable, as my feet barely touch the ground.
I twist my body to get a view of the room – concrete wall, concrete wall, another concrete wall – I contort my body one last time – a glass window.
This man had a perverted fetish with windows.
But there was my son, a little curled up ball in the middle of another cell –the same as mine. He’s shivering uncontrollably.
I watch him – helpless in all attempts to save him.
My body strains as I try to remain in the same position.
The door to Nicolas’ cell opens.
Lazarey walks in, he puts a needle in him – I watch the fluid enter his tiny body.
Lazarey looks in my direction – a smug smile comes across his face.
I want to slap the f---ing smile right off his face.
Moments later he comes into my cell, 2 of his agents follow closely behind them.
He continues to smile and he eyes me like a piece of fresh meat. Bastard.
I wait for him to speak, but he only nods a command to his agents. I knew this time – he wasn’t playing around. I flinch and I can hear the chains rattle. My heart is racing as I watch one of his agents pull something out of his pocket.
A whip?
Don’t tell me Lazarey is a fan of old fashioned torture.
I was right…he was.
The first crack of the whip breaks the haunting atmosphere – it makes diagonal slash across my back.
I gasp.
The fabric of my shirt is ripped and I feel the cold air on my back.
The other agent says he wants a turn – they argue for a moment, like a pair of children.
Before long another slash makes it mark across my back, this one harder than the first. The other agent had it turn.
I became a sick game for the agents of who can whip me the hardest. My clothes are torn and my body screams in pain. Blood trickles down my back, legs and drips onto the floor. I swing in all directions as each slash hits my body, the metal cuffs dig harshly into my wrist, rubbing them raw.
I hear the agents speaking again, one of them leaves and comes back with other objects at hand.
I hang there – in pain, but I can’t bring myself to cry. The shock is too overwhelming.
An agent walks around, he stands in front of me. My head in hanging and he violently grabs my hair and pulls my head up to get my attention.
“Say something you Russian b****!”
I spit in his face.
And his fist makes a clean swipe across my face.
“Thanks for returning the favor a**h**e.” I spit blood from my mouth.
The other agent chuckles “You gonna let her talk to you like that?”
The agent walks away from my view and suddenly I receive something to enhance the cuts from the whipping.
Alcohol.
The agents laugh as a large bucket of alcohol is thrown onto me. The stinging is overwhelming and my lungs gasp for air. I'm losing my grip, but I can't let these bastards know.
“I think we need to show her some respect.” The same agent who punched my face walks in front of me.
He rips my shirt off and I hang there exposed.
A small banging noise is heard behind me. The agent behind says “Hey we got an audience!” The agent in front spins me around.
Oh god. Nicolas.
His little eyes are puffy from tears.
The agent who was in front of me replies, “Go take care of that kid.”
The other agent exits the room and I’m spinned around again. I am no longer able to see Nicolas.
“Now where were we?” The agent slyly grins as he begins to unbuckle his pants.
I feel a knot in my throat – something breaks within me.
My soul.
A short synopsis: Alexa is Irina and Jack's other daughter and Sydney's younger sister. Alexa has a son named Nicolas and she is married to Adrian Sark. So if you stumbled here by chance, feel free to check out "Forgotten Past" in the General Fiction section.
Also to those who manage these forums, I hope that what I did was okay. If not, please let me know.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 18 – Alexa’s POV
I feel pain shoot through my body, but my head is spinning and I have no control. My eyes try to adjust – slowly my surroundings are revealed. The room is chillingly cold and I realize why.
My body was stripped from my original clothes, and I was redressed in what seems to be a simple long shirt that reaches past my knees. I shudder in the coolness of air.
I realized the situation I’m in – my hands are restrained in large metal cuffs with a long chain attached to them, the chain extending to the ceiling. There I hang uncomfortable, as my feet barely touch the ground.
I twist my body to get a view of the room – concrete wall, concrete wall, another concrete wall – I contort my body one last time – a glass window.
This man had a perverted fetish with windows.
But there was my son, a little curled up ball in the middle of another cell –the same as mine. He’s shivering uncontrollably.
I watch him – helpless in all attempts to save him.
My body strains as I try to remain in the same position.
The door to Nicolas’ cell opens.
Lazarey walks in, he puts a needle in him – I watch the fluid enter his tiny body.
Lazarey looks in my direction – a smug smile comes across his face.
I want to slap the f---ing smile right off his face.
Moments later he comes into my cell, 2 of his agents follow closely behind them.
He continues to smile and he eyes me like a piece of fresh meat. Bastard.
I wait for him to speak, but he only nods a command to his agents. I knew this time – he wasn’t playing around. I flinch and I can hear the chains rattle. My heart is racing as I watch one of his agents pull something out of his pocket.
A whip?
Don’t tell me Lazarey is a fan of old fashioned torture.
I was right…he was.
The first crack of the whip breaks the haunting atmosphere – it makes diagonal slash across my back.
I gasp.
The fabric of my shirt is ripped and I feel the cold air on my back.
The other agent says he wants a turn – they argue for a moment, like a pair of children.
Before long another slash makes it mark across my back, this one harder than the first. The other agent had it turn.
I became a sick game for the agents of who can whip me the hardest. My clothes are torn and my body screams in pain. Blood trickles down my back, legs and drips onto the floor. I swing in all directions as each slash hits my body, the metal cuffs dig harshly into my wrist, rubbing them raw.
I hear the agents speaking again, one of them leaves and comes back with other objects at hand.
I hang there – in pain, but I can’t bring myself to cry. The shock is too overwhelming.
An agent walks around, he stands in front of me. My head in hanging and he violently grabs my hair and pulls my head up to get my attention.
“Say something you Russian b****!”
I spit in his face.
And his fist makes a clean swipe across my face.
“Thanks for returning the favor a**h**e.” I spit blood from my mouth.
The other agent chuckles “You gonna let her talk to you like that?”
The agent walks away from my view and suddenly I receive something to enhance the cuts from the whipping.
Alcohol.
The agents laugh as a large bucket of alcohol is thrown onto me. The stinging is overwhelming and my lungs gasp for air. I'm losing my grip, but I can't let these bastards know.
“I think we need to show her some respect.” The same agent who punched my face walks in front of me.
He rips my shirt off and I hang there exposed.
A small banging noise is heard behind me. The agent behind says “Hey we got an audience!” The agent in front spins me around.
Oh god. Nicolas.
His little eyes are puffy from tears.
The agent who was in front of me replies, “Go take care of that kid.”
The other agent exits the room and I’m spinned around again. I am no longer able to see Nicolas.
“Now where were we?” The agent slyly grins as he begins to unbuckle his pants.
I feel a knot in my throat – something breaks within me.
My soul.
