The Real Torment
Henry opened his eyes to the same darkened room he had been trapped in for the last seven days. He was chained to the wall, naked, rust and dried blood on his wrists. The clay water bowl at his feet was empty, and his last solid meal had been more than thirty-six hours ago. It seemed Johanna had grown tired of the brute brainwashing regimen and was now looking to starve him to death.
Sore throat, he tried to scream, but what came out of his dry lips was more of a mewl than anything else. He was exhausted, almost at the point of no return but, no matter what, he would not break.
As if eager to mock him for his stubborn resistance, Johanna, the crazy co-worker turned mind-controller from Hell, descended into the basement and opened the door of his cell. She was dressed in full purple latex ensemble that day, fierce make-up matching her auburn hair.
“How’s my little prisoner doing tonight? Are you ready to give in and give me anything I want?” She purred.
“Never! You won’t get away with this!” Henry screamed. “My family will come looking for me and then there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Your family? You mean, like your older brother, Jack?” She moved out of the way to let a burly man crawl inside. “Oh, he’s been here since yesterday but, unlike you, he learned his place in my world fairly quickly. Go on, Jacky Boy. Tell him the truth.”
“I am a slave. I have always been a slave. I will always be a slave.” Her drone replied before dutifully kissing her booted feet.
“See? And no, he’s not snapping out of it anytime soon. I already have another brainwashing session prepped up, but I don’t think he should go alone. How do you feel if I call your girlfriend to meet us here, right now?”
Henry sobbed, painfully aware the real torment was about to begin.