Chrys believed Niegel when he explained what he was going to transform into, a soulless husk who would obey any command without question out of fear. It made it all the more worse to acknowledge that it might happen, if he were subject to what the soldier planned for him long enough. There were things more terrifying than rape, that would cause him more pain than losing his virginity. No ideas came to mind immediately for what methods the man might use to torture him, but he could think of the effects.<br/><br/>He would be scarred, burned, bruised, and bloody. Destroyed in essence and vitality. If he emerged out of it all alive, he might not be Chrysalis Henry Collins, a son and brother, a waiter at<i>Giana's</i>anymore. He might look the same, sound the same, but he would be an empty body that once housed a person. Chrys had always been told that he was a strong kid, with a sound morality and work ethic, but he was unsure of if that would translate into strength to persevere through the trials set before him. He was scared for his life, the most he had ever been in his short existence.<br/><br/>Still, though scared, he chanced with the unknown. Rape was the one thing he knew he wanted to avoid. Desperately, he clung onto the hope that he might leave the room unscathed, unraped. But sooner or later Niegel would pin him to the bed and use his body as a canvas to paint his anger towards his father on, and that would be that. Choosing the unknown would only delay the inevitable.<i>No, I had no choices to begin with, </i>Chrys thought. Every 'choice' he made had already been predetermined by the madman before him, and perhaps there might've been branches, but any choice he made would converge with the soldier's ultimate plan.<br/><br/>Niegel grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to the floor. There wasn't enough time for him to react, and within seconds he was pinned by Niegel pressing his knee against the center of his back with all of his weight. Chrys had been rendered a turtle – stuck, floundering on his stomach, attempting to crawl away and only achieving a good centimeter for all of his efforts. One by one his arms were forced behind his back, as the soldier fought to bind them together. Chrys struggled as much as he could, but the tenacious man soon won and began the first loop around his arms. The rope was rough against his skin, pressing into his flesh. It constricted his arms, covering half of his wrist. He wondered why Niegel even bothered to untie his arms in the first place, when they were going to be rebound after only a few minutes.<br/><br/>“Ah,” Chrys winced, as he was forced to his feet by the pain of Niegel pulling on his arms. The position from which he pulled was unnatural, forcing his arms into an agonizing and unnatural position. Automatically he stepped backwards, closer to his captor to alleviate the stress the rope placed on his arms. Unwillingly he had to follow Niegel, in order to spare himself of the sharp pain that he experienced each time the soldier tugged upwards. There was only so long he could stand still for before he had to concede defeat.<br/><br/>He swiveled his head around to look at where Niegel was leading him. It was a door. When the man opened the door, it became apparent what it was – a closet.<i>A closet? What is he planning to do, stuff me inside it? </i>Chrys was given the answer when the man threw the rope over the pole that would've been used to hang clothes, and yanked on it. The pain had been sudden enough that he couldn't help but yelp. His arms were pulled up and he was forced to try and alleviate the pain by getting on his toes. Niegel's instructions were a cruel joke – no matter how Chrys felt on the matter, he would have to get on his toes anyways because of every pull of the rope.<br/><br/>The pain settled in his arms and shoulders, and was not going away. It made his upper body burn intensely, like he was pulling a cramp in both of his shoulders. Chrys' body weight was against him – gravity pulled him down, putting more pressure on his arms. Barely did his toes brush against the floor, and it only brought slight relief when he balanced himself on the ground. Instead the pressure was mitigated to his feet, the weight of his entire body being supported by his ten tiny toes. The way he was hung had him trapped in a vicious cycle – he was either hurting his arms, or his toes.<br/><br/>Now he was his most vulnerable. Chrys hung his head down, avoiding Niegel's gaze. His eyes were focused on the floor – anything to make him forget about the pain that was making his limbs scream. There was no defending himself; he had the ability of lashing out at the soldier by kicking him, but what would that do? He was off balance, and he imagined that if he dared to kick that the sudden loss of support would dislocate both of his shoulders at once.<i>Think about something to distract from the pain.</i><br/><br/>“You would know,” Chrys replied coldly, still staring at the ground. Staring wasn't helping so he shut his eyes, taking in a few deep breaths to deal with the burning of his shoulders.<i>This pain is manageable. I've felt worse... right..? “</i>If you want something from me, I can't give it to you. Not that it matters... you'll take what you want from me anyways, won't you, Mr. Reyes...?”<i>I'm done begging. “</i>You're a<i>monster.</i>” His voice was strained, and he had lost the pleasant tone he had used before.