*ON HOLD* Blackbirds (Avengers Fanfic)

Chapter 5: Kill Me

It's been a year I believe. A year of begging for them to take my life. I have nightmares every night, that is, if I can sleep. Overall at the year in this... facility, I've gotten twenty-eight hours of sleep. That's 8,760 hours overall, only twenty-eight spent sleeping. To say it's taken it's toll on me was an understatement. I couldn't think straight, I was hallucinating, I couldn't see strait, I could barely stand. It was terrible.

I'd been staying in the same room every night, strapped down waiting to be tormented, beaten. I've had multiple near death experiences, most on purpose, others not. I've been through things no one should go through.

I've had... things... taken from me from my, what I called H-V's, hell visits. The most recent the most scarring. Even though I hadn't been physically harmed like usual. It was forced and that's all I'm going to say.

At STAR I was trained to withstand torture, interrogation, anything about people trying to get things out of me for the company, but nothing like this. This was to intense for even the best agent to withstand.

Most things were physical pain, other times it had been mental. Why they wanted me to suffer this much... no idea. But they did say something about freedom with a price. But I do know that they would kill someone immediately if they wanted revenge on a fallen colleague. A painful death, but not this bad. I've had my stomach cut open, my throat slit, and have even been burned on the back of my neck.

During one of the 'procedures', as Sansly likes to call them, I had bit one of the guys messing with me. Now I was suffering from that. A man I'd never gotten the name from, had dragged me to a room where a wooden pole was in the ground.

There was a rope secured on the top of the four foot tall stake. The man had forced me onto my knees in a hugging position to the pole, and tied my scarred wrists. The chafing from the restraints making them callused and scarred. I was waiting until I heard footsteps in the dirty cement room. I heard a dragging sound and a whizzing.

A man with a deep, gravely voice spoke up.

"This will teach you to respect those who are in your presence." An accent clear in his voice. All of the men here had one, all of them wanting revenge over killed partners.

A man tore my shirt in the back, revealing my scarred, now considerably eight shades paler, skin on my back. I gripped the ropes tied to my wrist, knowing the torture coming my way.

The first was the most painless, the leather cutting through my skin creating a gash on top of my spine. I took a sharp breath in. The more hits, the more pain, one whip on top of another. This continued until I could feel the heat of blood covering my entire back. My eyes were drooping, either due to blood loss or sleep deprivation. Which one? I'm not sure. Probably both.

I remember being thrown onto the metal table and my groaning because of the dirty cold surface on my open back.

There were now white-coated men in the room, rushing my way. One had a red blob in their hand. I had no clue what was happening because of my blurred vision. I felt a man flip over my limp body, my cut back dragging along the metal.

"This is going to sting, a lot." I heard a man in a softer voice say. I heard liquid being dumped. I then felt a stinging, pain on my back, coursing through my entire being. I closed my eyes and screamed out in pain. I smelled the alcohol, knowing instantly what they had done. They were cleaning my wounds, but in the most painful way possible. My lacerations were then wrapped with gauze going around my torso.

I laid on my sore back, staring at the ceiling, emotionless, broken, beaten, thinking. I hated that I couldn't sleep because when I was laying there, I would think. Now that I was here, thinking was poisonous for me, killing my mind slowly, itching closer and closer to insanity.