Jaden Baker (27 page)

Jaden’s heart hammered. He had never been so vulnerable in his life. Whenever a tough situation arose, psychokinesis always came to his rescue. If not, the fear that he was capable of something worse kept people from harming him further.

Now he was defenseless. His greatest ally was against him. Nothing could help him. His mouth dried and his legs shook.

“Are you listening, Jaden?” the man asked.

Jaden ground his teeth and looked up at him.

“Good. We need to establish our relationship. Dalton took years and never got you under control. You’ll find I’m less patient. It’s very clear to me what the two of us are, but you need to be convinced of it. So I need for you to say it. That’s all. Just a few words to establish who I am and who you are. Can you do that?”

Jaden said nothing.

The man smirked and motioned to Malcolm, who cut off Jaden’s shirt with scissors, ripping it from his back.

Jaden’s breathing became shallow and loud. He could not think of a way out of this, and surrender was not an option. If Jaden gave this man what he wanted, that would be the end. Jaden would not be dominated, not now, not ever. He wasn’t going to give in. He wasn’t going to give in. He wasn’t going to give in…

“Jaden, are you ready?” the man asked casually.

Don’t show fear, it’s what he wants
.

Too late. He knew what was coming. There was nothing he could do but fight for his will, for his pride.

“Jaden, I am your master and you are my slave.” The man’s lips twitched, yet he did not smile. “That’s all you have to say. Tell me I am your master and you are my slave.”

Something more than fear ripped through Jaden’s chest. He was the one with the power. If this man didn’t have an electric shock collar around Jaden’s neck, Jaden could reign destruction on this entire building, killing everyone in it.

“Say it Jaden.”

Jaden took a deep breath and looked deep into the man’s eyes. “Go to hell you fucking bastard.”

The man sighed and shook his head. “Always taking the hard road. Very well.” He held up his hands to Malcolm.

Jaden shut his eyes and braced himself. There was no time to take a breath. Malcolm struck his back with the rod so hard it knocked the air from his lungs. The stinging burn was more shocking than the force of the blow. He bit his lower lip to keep from crying in pain, then Malcolm hit him again and again. Jaden pulled against the chains. Malcolm hit him again, harder this time, and lower on his back. Jaden grunted and pulled his arms more urgently. He had to get free. Malcolm hit him again. Hot tears welled in his eyes, so he forced his eyes closed as he endured four more strikes.

The stranger was right. The pain was throbbing, the stinging intensified, even after Malcolm stopped. He bit his lip so forcefully it went numb. He struggled to stay upright, his feet slipping underneath him.

“That was ten, Jaden. Tell me that I’m your master and you are my slave, and it ends. If you don’t say it, Curtis will hit you twenty times, for a grand total of thirty lashes.”

He wouldn’t give in. Not ever. He would pass out from the pain before he said anything.

Jaden growled and snapped his eyes open. “I’ll kill you. I will fucking kill you, you sick sonofabitch!”

The man nodded to Curtis.

Jaden held out for seven, he could not restrain the screams for the remaining thirteen. Tears streamed down his face, and blood dripped down his back, into his pants, down his legs. His whole body shook, the chains rattling against the concrete platform.

“Say it, Jaden. Say you are my slave.”

Jaden groaned and pulled himself up as best he could. His vision was blurred, but his voice was clear. “You are my slave,” he said acidly.

The man sighed again, then took a flat canister from his coat pocket labeled SALT. “I assume you’ve heard the adage, ‘like salt in an open wound’ but probably never experienced it. I don’t appreciate your cheek.”

Jaden heard the canister open and tip, the contents pouring. Jaden screamed so loud and long his voice cracked. The man rubbed the salt into Jaden’s back. Surely he would faint. The pain was too much, he couldn’t do this forever. His body would shut down. He needed to black out, escape this terrible misery. He wanted to die. There was no reason to live, no future worth living for.

The man was done with offers, and the torture continued for what felt like hours. Jaden wasn’t even bothering to stand. He hung from his wrists, now cut and bloody too, as Malcolm and Curtis beat him, losing neither strength nor enthusiasm.

Then Jaden’s vision faded. The room darkened, the pain lessened. He was passing out, or dying, either would suffice. He welcomed it, whatever it was, unconsciousness or death. If only it could’ve come sooner. The beating stopped, or the pain was diminishing because he was slipping out of space and time, he couldn’t tell which.

He heard the man’s voice in his ear: “Oh no you don’t,” he said, laughing.

A new pain in his neck pinched him. Then suddenly and quite clearly, he was awake again, the pain came back more intense than before. The man walked back to his former place and held up an empty syringe. “Ah the power of drugs, eh slave?” He laughed.

Jaden’s voice cracked as he cried. His body quaked from the wracking sobs he couldn’t control. This was the worst. This man couldn’t inflict more pain than he already had. It was so much Jaden couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t conjure enough coherence to remember why he was here.

“Clearly I underestimated your tenacity,” the man said. “So I’ll have to try something else.” He summoned his two men.

Malcolm and Curtis stretched Jaden’s fingers and laid them flat against the platform. Jaden shook his head and tried pleading for them to stop, but the dread rendered him mute. He yanked against the chains, but like before, they didn’t come loose. His wrists and arms were coated in blood.

“This will hurt a lot,” the man said. “You know how to make this stop. You are torturing yourself.”

Before Jaden could ask him to stop, the man raised the rod in his hand and struck Jaden’s fingers. The pain splintered, shot through his hands and ripped out of him. He shrieked in agony as the man hammered Jaden’s knuckles and the back of his hands, breaking and shattering the bones within. Blood splattered Jaden’s bare chest and face, mixing with his sweat and hot tears.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Jaden cried, unable to recognize his own voice.

The man held the rod high. “Yes?” he said.

Jaden looked at his swollen, bloody, and mutilated hands, his thrashed wrists. It hurt to think, to breath, to move, to live. He couldn’t do this. There was no pride left to salvage. This man would keep hurting Jaden, but wouldn’t kill him. There was nothing for it.

Just say it. Let him win
.

Then he’d have everything. He’d have the control.

You cannot win this one, and he knows it. Give him what he wants.

Jaden’s sobs eased, the pain did not. The beatings would be nothing to the soreness which would linger for weeks. He couldn’t suffer anymore, not if he could help it.

“Do you have something to say, or should I break your legs as well?”

“No,” Jaden mumbled, “no, please don’t.”

“Then you need to stick to your part of the deal.”

He tried calming his breathing, but his lungs burned, and every effort he made sent a fresh wave of pain across his back.

“I’m waiting patiently,” the man said.

Jaden glared into his cold eyes. He licked his dry, cracked and bleeding bottom lip. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was. Nothing would change unless he gave in.

They’re just words
.

Tears continued dripping down his blood spattered face as he mumbled, barely moving his lips, “You’re my master.” He took a small shallow breath. “I’m you’re slave,” he whispered, looking down at his gnarled, throbbing hands, his lacerated wrists, away from those eyes.

The man took a deep breath and stood to his full height. “Say it again so Malcolm and Curtis can hear clearly.”

Jaden shivered and swallowed. “You’re my master and I’m your slave,” he said a little louder than before, his voice breaking.

The man chuckled as he leaned over, his hands on his knees. “Now look at me.”

Jaden looked up.

“I want you to thank Malcolm and Curtis for helping you learn a lesson. They are both very tired and would’ve rather done something else. Say ‘thank you Malcolm and Curtis for teaching me my lesson.’”

Jaden groaned in pain. His body burned. “Thank you Malcolm and Curtis for teaching me a lesson,” he muttered.

The man nodded and smiled at him. “Good boy.” He patted Jaden’s sweat-soaked head, then stood. “Unlock him and take him to the infirmary.”

Malcolm unlocked the manacles with a key from around his neck. Jaden slipped to the floor and couldn’t find the strength to get up. He lay in a puddle of his own sweat and blood; the smell made him nauseous. Malcolm and Curtis hoisted him by his elbows and dragged him out the room and down the hall to a room at the end.

Inside was a bed, but they didn’t take him there.

“Good God, what did you do to him?” asked a new voice.

It was the man who answered. “We had our first lesson today, Sam. That’s why I called you in. I need you to mend him. I’m pretty sure I’ve broken a few of the bones in his hands. The wounds are mostly superficial. First I think the boys should clean him up.”

Which is exactly what they did. Jaden didn’t have the strength to move, or the will to fight anymore today. So he didn’t argue when Curtis cut off his pants and dropped him on the cold cement floor. Malcolm turned on the faucet and sprayed Jaden with lukewarm water. It stung. He curled into a ball around the drain and watched his blood spiral into the grate. Curtis lathered his latex-gloved hands with liquid soap and rubbed it all over Jaden’s body. Jaden moaned and cried, begging them to stop, but he barely understood himself. It wasn’t over soon enough. They pat him dry then picked him up and lay him face down on the only bed in the room.

“No morphine,” the man said. “He brought this onto himself. Tie him down with restraints and plug you ears when he screams.”

“That’s barbaric,” Sam replied. “He has to be relaxed to set these bones correctly, or he could have permanent damage. I have to give him something.”

Jaden’s hands throbbed. He wanted death. Maybe the doctor would take pity on him and slip him drugs or kill him.

“Fine” said the man. “Give him just enough to do what you need, nothing more.” He looked down at Jaden. “I’ll see you soon,” said the man. He smirked slyly then turned and left, Curtis and Malcolm following after him.

The doctor shut and locked the door. He stared at Jaden. He was young, in his early thirties, Jaden guessed. He had light brown hair, a square face, and wore a frown.

“My name is Sam.” He had a soothing voice. Sam examined Jaden’s right hand with extreme delicacy. “He broke a few fingers.” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Can you keep a secret, Jaden?” he asked.

Jaden did not respond. He shut his eyes and tried to embrace the pain, hoping it would overpower him and force him to faint.

“I have morphine. I have to give you some to make you sleep. The rest of the team won’t get here for at least thirty minutes, and I can’t, in good conscious, prolong your suffering. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

Jaden nodded into his pillow. “I promise,” he slurred.

Sam pulled a syringe and vial from a drawer. He loaded the syringe with the drug, then found a vein in Jaden’s right arm.

Jaden closed his eyes and welcomed sleep, hoping the doctor had given him so much he would never wake.

But wake he did, lying face down on the same hospital bed. His right palm was set in a thick, hard cast which covered his wrist and forearm. Three of his fingers had splints and bandages. His hands were incredibly sore, like the rest of his body, especially his back.

“You’re awake?” Sam asked.

Jaden looked at him.

“You’ll need to stay in bed for a while longer. I had to stitch some of the gashes in your back, and any kind of stretching or movement could rip them. Your hands are a different matter. I casted both, so you can’t use them for at least a week, then we have to hope the bones heal quickly before the joints stiffen. You’re young, so I think you’ll have the full use of them soon. I’m afraid the scarring will be permanent, the cuts were too deep.”

Jaden swallowed. “It hurts,” he moaned.

“I know. But he’s coming to see you today, and if I gave you anything for the pain, you’d get drowsy and he would know.” Sam pulled up a chair and sat down so he could face Jaden. “Take my advice and do what he says. He doesn’t feel remorse or guilt and will do this again if he thinks he needs to.”

So the doctor
did
pity him. “Help me out of here,” Jaden pleaded.