3. Yesterday Once More

I woke up in a cool room. My mind was drugged still. My mouth was parched, and I was trying to get my bearings. I knew it would be highly unlikely for me to get away from here, but I would always try my very best. I made sense of my sensations and I kept my eyes closed for quite a long time. I listened, smelled, and moved my arms and legs subtly. The advantage was that Damien was not a telepath, so he would not notice if I was awake right away.

I was cold and chained to some kind of table with my head tied down. There were spiked restraints around my arms and legs, straps around my body, and my chest and my head were secured, too. Finally, I opened my eyes. This was some gigantic space, wires hanging from the ceiling, and some shed session equipment parts probably waiting. This hall ceiling was made of tin or aluminum, some sort of industrial space this had been. 

The fluorescent lights did nothing to enhance the decor of the place. I couldn't turn my head to understand better where I was. There was a lot of equipment near the ceiling and I was not sure if they were the old ones or some sort of Damien's little inventions. 

Damien sauntered closer, his piercing gaze fixed on me. "Good morning, you're finally awake," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Excellent, now we can get started. Remember that AI that wanted to surpass you? Mr. Sark recently acquired it, and it turns out it has quite a grudge against you. It's here now, itching for a rematch."

As Damien continued his chatter, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "You see, Mr. Sark wants it to succeed. This AI is highly advanced, armed with an abundance of information about its subjects. So, Mr. Sark graciously allowed me to have it as well. I've prepared all sorts of equipment for it to utilize. The AI is securely stored in multiple locations, all interconnected, providing Mr. Sark with valuable insights about you. Now, this AI is eager to begin. But here's the twist: it insists on taking you on without any handicap. It wants to do everything on its own. Quite a challenge, don't you think? You are in excellent shape, 60 kilos or more, so we have a lot to do, in order to get you weak, feeble, thin, and sick, but I am more than sure that we will succeed in our little goal."

As Damien walked somewhere, a low humming sound filled the air, originating from the ceiling nearby. I saw movement in the ceiling. Suddenly, a multitude of probes, blades, and drills descended upon me, relentlessly piercing and penetrating my body. I clenched my teeth, refusing to let out a scream as waves of pain washed over me.

Two long needles landed with precision, sinking into my eye sockets and traveling all the way to my brain, injecting a foreign substance. Simultaneously, countless blades and probes assaulted every inch of me, ranging from uncomfortable pressure to excruciating, white-hot tearing pain. There was no escape from the agony, and what sent chills down my spine was the fact that the AI now spoke, conversing with Damien. 

After what felt like an eternity, a mechanical voice finally spoke, its indifferent tone sending shivers down my spine. "It is your turn now, Damien. I have fulfilled my part. Show me how you fulfill yours. Do you rely on these shuttles?"

Damien chuckled as he approached me, clad in protective gear.

The machine continued. Its voice was beyond creepy somehow. "I have neutralized her willpower and suppressed her rage. Last time, she shattered parts of me with her mind. Now, substances in her brain prevent her from accessing that power. Should we administer drugs at some point? She despises being sedated."

Damien came closer, lifting me, his words tinged with malice. "Ah, you're still in good condition for now. But don't worry, you'll soon lose weight and become weak again. As for drugging her, maybe, but I prefer her to retain her memories. Although, with her photographic memory, she'll remember it all, anyway."

He carried me into the shuttle, which was once a personal surgical unit but had been transformed into a chamber of torment by Sark and his cohorts. The harsh surface of the shuttle pressed against my back, causing explosions of pain. I tried to resist, but the agony made my movements clumsy, allowing him to restrain me effortlessly.

The lid closed, enveloping me in darkness. Soon, the entire shuttle began to vibrate and hum as lasers pierced my flesh, blades sliced into me, and needles injected who knows what. The air grew hot and moist, filled with the scent of herbs and an unknown substance. The stimulant forced me to inhale the increasingly suffocating fumes; the herbs searing my lungs and intensifying the pain in my chest. No one spoke, or perhaps they did, but their words were lost to me in the torment.

Claustrophobia threatened to whip me into panic and pain disoriented me, making it hard to keep my mind focused and trying to bear the agony and anguish, not to scream, and not give in that panic any power. Trying to tolerate this thick darkness, this hot moist fumes that burned now, my mouth and my lungs as well. I knew that my healing would kick in but it would take a lot out of me and I might not have time to get better so much.

After what felt like an eternity immersed in the machine, Damien finally opened the lid. He took the hose, starting to rinse me off first. As he rinsed blood and guts and whatever out, the icy cold water washed over me, causing excruciating pain as it made my wounds throb. He had his apron on, of course. 

I noticed several cameras all around the shed. AI wanted to watch.

The computer's voice chimed in, "Her healing ability seems to have been weakened. Did you plan this?"

Damien grunted and replied, "Not really. I enjoy experimenting, and it's always a surprise to see her condition. Some machines have proven quite effective in breaking her down. And some she can take so well. This was the little hybrid machine, a combo of laser and blades. "

The AI responded, "I understand. I will also learn so that we can defeat her. I'll start by destroying her at the cellular level, while you inflict mechanical damage, draining her strength. So she can't take so much anymore, she will get weaker sooner. what is your goal? You have something in mind."

Damien said, "Not really no, I will know it when I get there. It is more of my pleasure, my satisfaction, than her condition. Of course, my pleasure grows as her condition gets weaker."

The machine was quiet. That was too hard for it to compute, probably.

Damien lifted me onto the table, securing me in place, and said, "Now it's your turn to see what I've managed to do to her."

Once again, the torment began, with probes, blades, and needles causing agonizing sensations.

The AI's mercilessness matched Damien's. They took turns subjecting me to destruction. While the AI executed its actions with Damon's calculated precision, Damien reveled in experimentation. He confined me in shuttles or subjected me to various cruel treatments.

Numbing wrappings enveloped me, stripping away all senses except for my sense of smell. Blindfolded and deafened, I could only perceive through scent. A mask was placed over my face, coated with numbing cream. The overpowering stench of wet dog and an ashtray assaulted my nostrils. This detachment from my senses instilled fear, almost causing me to lose touch with reality. Yet that repugnant odor served as an anchor, preventing complete detachment.

After unwrapping me, Damien approached and whispered near my ears, struggling to reawaken my senses. Helpless and shivering from the cold, my sense of touch slowly returned. Damien's unnerving obsession with me grew, indicating that he would relentlessly pursue me.

He continued his whispered words, dripping with malice and disdain. "To start, the AI desires you to smell me. As you can see, it now injects my scent into your pheromone glands. Henceforth, you shall bear my scent always. You are no longer just a strawberry. The AI believes that through prolonged captivity and conditioning, I can possess you entirely."

His words crossed a dangerous boundary. I knew that this obsession had gone way out of line and it bring me troubles in the future too. His little fantasy was taking over. 

Damien's voice persisted, whispering next to my ear, sending shivers down my spine. The words he spoke filled the air with a chilling anticipation. "Imagine the power of Stockholm syndrome coursing through your veins, induced by the right drugs and torture. Picture yourself defending me, your captor, when Charles, your savior, arrives. And here, behold, a fragment of my brain, intertwined with Damon's. As you can see, your skull lies open, vulnerable. When this piece is placed into the machine, the AI will implant it into your mind. Who's to say if I'm not already inside, corrupting you slowly, insidiously? All it could take is this tiny fragment of me, in your brain, in order for me to get in your mind, to be your true husband, and merge us into one creature. You know me and my backup plans. I have so many of them."

Damien's incessant rambling aggravated me to no end. The tricks he played disgusted me. Yet, my anger, my will, and my power slipped through my fingers, leaving me helpless and weak. Time ceased to exist in this torment, my only companions being pain, disgust, agony, and a growing sense of futility.

The machine ravaged my immune system, paving the way for infections to take hold. Damien, ever the sadist, introduced a CPAP mask, relishing in the panic it induced within me. The AI, finding amusement in my distress, acquired its own mask, while my lungs became a canvas for the application of various substances.

A little bit of sedatives, so I felt even more helpless when the mask was put on, was all it took to really drain my strength. They had also different strains of pathogens and both of them shoved them into my body, waiting for one infection after another to take hold. Coldness seeped into my bones, fatigue settled in, and I could feel my strength waning, despite my desperate fight. I shook as my fever began to rise. Sedatives kept me down, and I had a cannula. I saw drugs dripping and AI had made it so I could hear that drop dripping into that chamber better, seeing it, torturing me mentally as well. 

Damien approached, his presence sending a shiver down my spine.

He sat beside me, his words dripping with sadistic satisfaction. "Well done, my good girl. It has been six weeks already. Just a little longer, and the infections will flourish. But fear not. I won't subject you to those vile panic-inducing drugs anymore. You'll recover slightly better. Maybe, at least, you are sane enough to feel how sick you are. However, the AI still hungers for an escalation of the infection, so I shall allow it to proceed. It wants you even more sick."

Creepiness emanated from Damien's seemingly ordinary appearance, with his plain black curly hair and unremarkable features. Yet, upon closer inspection, the unmistakable mark of evil tainted his face, making his true nature apparent. This version of him appeared human, or at least that's what I assumed. My fate remained uncertain. If I were to suddenly find myself among the pack, smelling like a wet dog, would I be torn apart? I knew that Damon, Adam, and Charles could not tolerate this stench and could they control themselves. Or would it be better for me to get better first, maybe ask Colin to help me? 

Time passed, and the relentless machine and Damien showed no mercy, their actions leaving no room for compassion or respite. The torture chamber environment offered no solace, devoid of any comforting scents or familiar sounds. Damien put me in shuttles and this time Ai told him how to adjust them. It wanted to test too. Time had no meaning to me, not anymore, only my ever-increasing weakness, the feeling of being so damn sick, powerless and limp, listless, not able to really stay awake for so long a time anymore.

Suddenly, the sensation of implants surged through my body, awakening me from my cold slumber. Though warmth enveloped me, all I craved was to drift back into unconsciousness, devoid of dreams. I had no more fever, and a feeling of heat emanated from inside as some implants had been activated. 

Damien's voice pierced through the silence, his words laced with a sadistic delight. "A severe and extensive sepsis is taking hold now. Marvelous. Those implants were activated a few days ago, releasing substances that will once again disrupt your body's heat and sugar levels. They are not sedatives or anesthetics, but they have been seamlessly absorbed into your tissues. I reckon they'll linger for a good two or three months. These past eight weeks with you have been quite enjoyable. Your resilience is admirable, but it takes great effort to shape you into this state."

A brief pause filled the air before Damien continued. "I'm sending you back to your Australian ranch. It's an exceptional place. I lived there myself for a while. You see, I remember, despite Damon's attempts to erase my memories. I've always been watching, patiently waiting, observing the when, where, and how. I've taken note of all the houses too. That's why I've been searching for the one place untouched by the bubble."

Damien picked up a sheet, disdain clear in his voice. "You're filthy and festering, so I won't bother getting myself dirty."

Cleanliness was his preference. I eagerly expected Damien to lift me, ready to exact revenge. I defiled him, unleashing bodily fluids upon him, savoring the satisfaction it brought. I shat on him and pissed on him, too. I even dared to spit in his face. In response, he callously tossed me into the trunk, where I languished until the car moved.

Ah, little Damien had gone to change. Then the car moved, and I tried to come up with a plan of action. After a ride, the car stopped, and he opened the trunk. In a display of disgust, he carried me through a plain view of my ranch and deposited me in the living room.

With a mocking tone, he placed my phone beside me, reminding me of the lesson in humility. "Remember, I can't repeat it while Bran is metalized, but there's your phone. Now I shall indulge myself. The best part of having my body is that there is no regret. The pleasure that awaits me, after this session, is nothing short of pure, unadulterated bliss."

And with that, he departed. I knew I should call for help, but the exhaustion weighed heavily upon me. Summoning all my strength, I reached for my phone and managed to send a message to Charles. I hoped he would receive it and come but I couldn't discern the response, but I saw the message had been delivered. My strength was depleted. Overwhelmed, I succumbed to the need for rest once more.