Kian breathed red rage. His jaw was on fire, the deep wound his tooth had left behind a raw pit that pulsed with pain. A steady drool of blood seeped from between his lips as he seethed at the impromptu dentist detachedly examined his gory souvenir. Kian didn’t respond, could barely hear past the blood pounding in his ears and his own ragged breathing. He did not look down when the heavy pliers were rested against the front of his jeans, despite how the blunt touch sent his balls shrinking up against his body in a swooping whoosh of trepidation, nor did his gaze falter when instrument was thrown heavily to the tabletop. He could only glare at the man who had mutilated him with a loathing that felt as though it could swallow him whole.<br/><br/>The door closed. The locks did not turn.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF8040"><span style="font-weight: bold">“You are very stupid.”</span></span>A voice croaked in the gloom.<br/><br/>Lucas’ face was still cast in shadow but there was no doubt as to who had spoken. Lydia still sobbed quietly, Thomas merely stared at the ground with the shell shocked eyes of someone who had checked out of reality. The voice was barely a breath above a whisper and sounded as though it was drawn from a throat made of sandpaper.<span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“Fuck you.”</span></span>Kian spat back. Lucas gave a painful sounding wheeze that may have been intended as a laugh.<span style="color: #BF8040"><span style="font-weight: bold">“He’ll do worse then take a tooth if you keep that up.” </span></span><br/><br/>Kian stared into the darkness that covered the old man’s face. The blood rushing in his ears had eased to a steady thump, but still he had to strain to hear anything the guy said; every word seemed to take serious physical effort to produce. Kian spat a gob of red and felt the burn of his tongue brush over the ragged hole in an unconscious effort to fill the gap. With a grimace he swore at his own stupidity, feeling tendrils of what could only be his own gum undulate with the recoil of his tongue. His stomach flipped unpleasantly at the realization.<br/><br/>Fighting the urge to be suddenly and violently sick, Kian regarded the slumped figure. The hands shackled above Lucas’ head were black, though his short hair appeared to be a motley of deep brown and steel grey. The cardigan he wore was stained and threadbare.<span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“I don’t know if you noticed,”</span></span>Kian replied, taking care to move his jaw as little as humanly possible whilst remaining audible.<span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“But we’re chained to the ceiling in a fucking basement. The nutcase will do worst no matter what.”</span></span>His inability to talk normally did not quite manage to detract from his usual sarcasm.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8080"><span style="font-weight: bold">“His name is Ian.”</span></span>Lydia gave a great shuddering gasp, her voice watery around tears.<span style="color: #FF8080"><span style="font-weight: bold">“He doesn’t like to hurt us, he only does it to teach us how to behave.” </span></span><br/><br/>Kian gaped, dumbfounded.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“Are you fucking kidding me?”</span></span><br/><br/>Thomas flinched at the venom in his voice without breaking the thousand yard stare at the concrete floor. Kian didn’t care, it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard.<span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“He’s not <span style="font-style: italic">teaching </span>you.”</span></span>He hissed vehemently.<span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“He’s a sadistic freak who <span style="font-style: italic">kidnapped </span>you to get his kicks.”</span></span>Lydia began to shake her head fiercely before she groaned and put a filthy hand to her temple, swaying slightly. Her nails had french tips that had grown out of what was once probably a neat manicure. Kian noticed that her hair was actually strawberry blonde.<span style="color: #BF8040"><span style="font-weight: bold">“She’s right.” </span></span>Lucas ground out.<span style="color: #BF8040"><span style="font-weight: bold">“He can be quite civil, if you play along.” </span></span><br/><span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“Play along with <span style="font-style: italic">what</span>?” </span></span><br/><span style="color: #BF8040"><span style="font-weight: bold">“His games. He seems to like it when we show that we're grateful.”</span></span>Lucas replied.<span style="color: #BF8040"><span style="font-weight: bold">“He can be...kind. If you show that you appreciate the things he does.”  </span></span><br/>A laugh bubbled out of Kian that bordered on hysterical.<span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“You mean like<span style="font-style: italic"> ripping my fucking tooth out</span>?” </span></span>The pain wavered now, somewhere between a dull, persistent ache and a sharp sting that left his whole mouth on edge. The phantom pressure of the pliers lingered in his jaw as though the tooth had not been expelled but simply lifted was still now being tugged bit by bit from the bone and gum.<span style="color: #FF8080"><span style="font-weight: bold">“You were asking for it.”</span></span>Lydia retorted, her full bottom lip stuck out in a mulish pout.<span style="color: #FF8080"><span style="font-weight: bold">“He warned you.”  </span></span><br/><span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“So I should have been sweet and contrite, should I?” </span></span>Kian retaliated disdainfully.<span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“I’d like to retain some semblance of self respect, thanks.”</span></span>Lydia shot him a withering look.<span style="color: #FF8080"><span style="font-weight: bold"> "This is about self preservation.” </span></span>She snapped.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF8040"><span style="font-weight: bold">“‘For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, slanders.’” </span></span>Lucas’ voice rose from the gloom. If it didn’t sound as though each syllable had to be tortured from his vocal chords, it might have been melodic. Kian rolled his eyes.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“Don’t quote that shit at me. What you’re arguing is pathetic. What do you think will happen if you’re good? He’ll let you go?” </span></span>He gave a harsh bark of a laugh utterly devoid of humor.<span style="color: #00BF80"><span style="font-weight: bold">“You’re lying to yourselves if you think that.” </span></span><br/>For a moment there was silence. Lydia’s voice was tremulous when she finally spoke again,<span style="color: #FF8080"><span style="font-weight: bold">“I don’t think he’ll let me go,” </span></span>She said softly.<span style="color: #FF8080"><span style="font-weight: bold">“I just know what he’ll do if I don’t do what he wants. I’ve s-seen-” </span></span>She choked around the word, another broken sob drawn from her lips.<span style="color: #FF8080"><span style="font-weight: bold">“He’s taken people <span style="font-style: italic">apart</span>.”</span></span><br/><br/>Kian doesn’t really need for her to say more than that. She doesn’t get the chance to when the door opens suddenly and the receptionist - Ian - is among them again. Kian watches the now clean young man descend the stairs apprehensively, attempting to keep his expression blank - or at least less hateful than it had been only shortly before. Ian approached Kian’s chained, bloodstained form. The gore on his chin was beginning to congeal, though his chest was spattered with blood.<span style="color: #80BFFF"><span style="font-weight: bold">“Tilt your head back and try not to swallow,” </span></span>Ian ordered in a tone that brokered no argument. For a moment Kian simply stared at the impassive face before him before he did as directed, feeling horribly vulnerable with the knowledge of Lydia’s words weighing heavily on him.