He was no longer capable of controlling the pain his captors inflicted. Agony streamed from almost every nerve ending in his body. He remembered all the horrific things the guards had done to him over the past days and couldn’t even wish for death. They wouldn’t allow him to die until they deemed his punishment complete. The room was hazed in blue lights and the machines provided a steady source of sound to assure him he lived, if his existence could be called such. It hurt to move his head when he looked down his body as he lay sprawled on an examining table. They’d given him a low dose of poison to keep him down, weakened and suffering, while they exacted revenge for his defiance. He’d been tortured, severe damage done to almost every part of him, and it would be hours before he healed. Cuts and bruises marred his chest. A bloody gash on his shoulder hurt the worst. A guard had enjoyed making that wound, a smile on his face when he’d wielded the machete-style weapon. He’d refused a direct order when he’d attacked the guards instead of meekly stepping inside the large room they’d indicated he should enter.
