Page 81 of Map of Pain
“He’s too broken,”Owenwassaying somewhere in the hallway.“The vampire taught him things, conditioned him in ways we can’t undo.”
“The vampire taught him some things we can use,”Shaw replied, and therewassomething hungry in his voice.“We just need to redirect that conditioning. Channel it properly.”
Jingle.
Blur.
Pain. Henderson’s fists connecting with his ribs, his face, his stomach. Shaw watching from the corner, clipboard in hand, making notes like Nickwasa lab rat.
“Your fighting technique is sloppy,”Henderson said, stepping back to let Nick gasp for air through what felt like broken ribs.“Your stance is defensive, reactive. You’re still thinking like prey.”
Nick tried to get up, and Owen’s boot caught him in the kidney. He went down hard, bile rising in his throat.
“You need to push down everything you learned before,”Shaw added, his voice gentle in a way that made Nick’s skin crawl.“We’re going to build you into something new. Something strong.”
Henderson grabbed a fistful of Nick’s hair and slammed his face into the concrete floor. Nick felt his nose break with a wet crunch, blood streaming down his face.
“The vampire made you weak,”Henderson snarled.“Made you want to please. We’re going to make you want to destroy.”
Nick spat blood and tried to speak, but Owen’s boot connected with his stomach, doubling him over.
“Good boys don’t talk back,”Owen whispered.
Jingle.
Blur.
Kindness. Shaw bringing him medication for the nightmares that left him screaming and clawing at his throat. Pills for the chronic pain that lived in his bones, even when Nick said he didn’t want them, didn’t trust them.
“This will help,”Shaw said, pressing the pills into Nick’s palm with gentle insistence.“Trust me. I’m trying to take care of you.”
And Nick did trust him. Wanted to trust him. Needed to believe that someone, somewhere, cared if he lived or died.
Fragments of overheard conversations.“The new asset is responding well to conditioning.”“Our insider says the operation is moving forward.”“Sometimes you have to deal with a demon to get at the devil.”
What insider? What demon?
Jingle.
The soundwassharper now, more insistent, and when everything blurred this time, it felt different. Like someone rifling through files, searching for something specific.
Hewaspressedagainst a wall, his forehead grinding into the concrete hard enough to scrape skin, Shaw’s weight pinning him in place. His face throbbed where Owenhithim for the crime of wanting to rest instead of train, for the crime of flinching when Owen called him“Gianmarco’s blowup doll.”Blood from his split lipwasdrying on his chin.
“You need to overcome the bad memories,”Shawwassaying, his breath hot against Nick’s ear, one hand twisted in his hair to keep his face pressed to the wall.“Clear them from your mind. And to do that, you need to relive them. Over and over until they have no meaning.”
Shaw’s other hand moved lower, and Nick’s breathing hitched with panic.
“Tell me about the first time you let the monster fuck you.”
“I didn’t let—”Nick started, trying to turn his head, trying to get away.
Shaw slammed his face into the wall hard enough to split his lip wider and make his vision blur.“If you didn’t let him fuck you, if youhadfoughthard enough to deny him,you’dbe dead. Don’t lie to me. Now tell me.”
So Nick told him. Told him about the first time, about the fear and pain and the way Gianmarcowhisperedsweet things afterward,cleanedthe blood away and called him brave and beautiful and good. Shaw’s hand never stopped moving, never stopped taking liberties that made Nick’s skin crawl.
By the end of it, hewassobbing against the concrete.
“Again,”Shaw said, his belt buckle jingling as he moved.
