Niegel insisted that what he was planning to do wouldn't hurt himself at all. That he was somehow so broken that he was numb enough to feel nothing by brutalizing him. Maybe he was wrong himself, but Chrys couldn't help but feel that there was truth to his own words. The mercurial man was still capable of emotion, and that in itself meant that he was also capable of self pain. Or was he? At the very least the man was able to express rage and the semblance of guilt. Perhaps he was right about himself, and he was truly too far to come back.<i>Whatever the answer is, I still have to get out of here, </i>Chrys thought.<br/><br/>Regardless of what Chrys thought about Niegel's words, his captor pressed on. They were going to have a shower together whether he liked it or not. Niegel might've said that he wasn't about to fuck, but what did Chrys know? Showers were warm and comforting. If showers were among the most popular locations to have sex in, then it was more than likely that Niegel would get hard over the course of their showering experience. The man went on in vocalizing his thoughts. How he felt that he resembled his father even in speech, and how he wondered what might've happened if he had met his father before he met his mother.  "I'm not my father. You have to realize that... I'm not him. And who's to say that things would've gone differently, even if you had met my dad before my mother? You would've met when you were children."<br/><br/>The deranged soldier began to strip. First his shirt went over his head, then his pants dropped to the floor. Next was the most terrifying part - he took off his underwear. Tied up on the bed Chrys hadn't been able to get a good view of it, which was preferable. His cock stuck out, small and flaccid at the moment. It was difficult to imagine what size it would grow to be, when Niegel became aroused. He turned his head away, but he couldn't help but glance at the man's body. It was riddled with scars, in all shapes and forms. There were long ones that were straight, others that were rippled, and even bullet scars. They told a story; that the man had been violated too many times to count, and fought for the right to live.<br/><br/>His captor crouched down, staring him in the eye.<i>“Come on, you're not useless. I know your legs work. You want to keep these on, don't you?” </i>Of course, he would have to take off his pants to shower. Niegel wasn't going to let him entered clothed. "No. No. No! I'm not taking off my clothes!" Chrys roared, gripping the tub for dear mercy. The man gave another chiding speech, like he were a child - telling him that clothes were a privilege he had to earn. A scream burst out of him as the leg of his pants was grasped onto, followed immediately by a tug. It was a small struggle before his pants were off, along with his underwear. His underwear had been torn from the force, rendered gray tatters on the floor.<br/><br/>Now he pushed himself against the tub, shaking with a mixture of anxiety, rage, and cold. Body contorted in a way that was meant to guard his chastity. Behind him the shower was now on, hot water splashing down. Inviting him to climb inside. He was questioned; why hadn't he followed the steps of his father, and enlisted into the army? "I never wanted to be. I saw what it did to my mother. She hated my father leaving, always for so long. She hated waking up, scared that she was going to get a call. That he was dead, and that there wouldn't even be a body to put in the ground. My dad wanted me to enlist, but my mom would argue day and night whenever he brought it up. So he gave up." A bit of uncomfortable silence lingered in the air. "Do you really understand what you're doing? There are people out there, looking for me right now. Wondering where I've gone."<br/><br/>Chrys' hand was pulled away from his body, as Niegel set it upon his stomach. His fingers were brushed against one of the more intense scars that stretched across the man's belly. There was a depression where there should've normally been flesh, but the flesh had been stripped away. Whether by a knife or other ways only Niegel knew. The soldier gave him a chilling warning; that his scar was the price of resistance and fighting. It froze Chrys in place, and he felt his blood curdle. A flicker of fright flashed across his eyes, and his hand shrunk away from the man's skin.<br/><br/>Frozen in the moment, Niegel took the time to sweep him up and dump him into the tub. The action had been handled nonchalantly, and he hadn't anticipated it. Chrys sputtered pathetically as unexpected water bore down upon him, soaking into his hair and momentarily blinding him. The other man stepped into the shower too, and he could feel his radiating heat. Hesitantly he rose to his feet, so that he wasn't in such a vulnerable position. There was little space in the shower, which pushed him closer to his demented captor. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He was afraid. Afraid of rape. Afraid of being hurt. Afraid of Niegel, and his plans.<br/><br/>Chrys was kicked into survival response.<i>Fight or flight. </i>This time, he chose fight. A yell split his lips as he grabbed hold of Niegel's shoulders, kicking him in the leg to unbalance him. Then he slammed the man down, hitting his head against the edge of the tub. It had been so sudden that Niegel had no time to react. Niegel went limp, and Chrys clamored out of the tub, breathing audibly hard.<i>Oh my god. </i>It had been the first time he had deliberated harmed someone.<i>Is he alive? </i>Cautiously he approached Niegel's body, before grasping onto his wrist.<i>A pulse. A pulse. He's still alive. </i>As much as he was scared, he didn't want Niegel to die. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What do I do?"