31. Oh, Baby.

I woke up in a panic and realized something was constantly shoved into my lungs. So Damien was taking me to the shed after all. I was all drugged up and trying to fight with everything I could to get this mask off my face. Tremendous pressure stopped me from exhaling. It was forcing my lungs to fill up and emptying and it felt like they were gonna burst.

The rhythm was all wrong and I just could not make myself relax and let it happen as it was not air that was forced into me. This substance seemed to coat my lungs so I could not really get any oxygen but this slick substance and I could not cough as this machine did not allow me. 

Strong hands were keeping me not to ripping out that mask off, and someone was trying to calm me down, and it wasn't Damien. I could get my panic under control or then I was just waking up a little more to be able to recognize the voice that spoke. This was Charles. When did Charles do shed sessions? was it so bad for me to interrogate those people? I did to get information and help. I tried to pray in my mind to Charles to stop that. I can't take any more. Charles was relentless.

He held me down and wouldn't take the mask off. I was too drugged to understand anything other than the panic that was in full force. Charles was holding me, and I was shaking and struggling, trying to bite, scratch, kick, jerk, do anything to get out of Charles' grip. I could not get my rage, I could not get my willpower, I was helpless, to be tortured, and I could feel my strength diminishing. 

Finally, the airflow in my lungs stopped. Pressure eased up and I could feel my lungs trying to get some air in. I was exhausted, scared, and not even opening my eyes. I felt someone take the mask off my head and wipe my face. Someone lifted me into a better position, supporting my heaving sides as I tried to cough ever so weakly, getting some air in.

After a moment of gasping, the smell of passionfruit wafted in my nose, so I realized it was Damon. He murmured something to me, supporting me, stroking my hair. I trembled in his arms for who knows how long as he stroked and comforted me. I always drifted off to sleep when I was safe. I was so tired. The sense of security that I had longed for so long came to me, lulling me to go back to sleep.

And then again, I'd wake up in the machine with Charles holding me back, restraining me, trying to talk, but the panic was even greater when I knew Charles wouldn't help me, that he wanted me to suffer through this. I was not sure why he would do this to me, why torture me, but he felt no mercy. I knew he could be rough when he was angry, but this felt like too much. 

Or it could have been Adam. He restrained me too, talking to me, but I could not understand a word and I felt how their grips bruised me. I was aching, and some of my bones broke as they gripped me too hard as I struggled with everything I had. Now the mask was different. There was a tube shoved down to my throat, blowing air or this substance into my lungs and then pulling it out. I had some sort of mouth guard, keeping my jaws locked in place so I could not bite. I felt a little more awake every time Damon came to my rescue, so I didn't pass out immediately. I lay in bed, in pain, trying to gasp some air. 

Damon looked at me as he cradled me in his arms and said, " Oh, you're still awake. How are you feeling?"

I sighed and said, my voice barely whispering, hoarse, " It's better now that those torturers don't torture."

Damon stroked me and said, " Mimi, look, it is compulsory treatment. That or the drugs that were in that vest, remember? They won't come off any other way. That's why it has to be done. Damien planned it this way. I tried to tell those two that your panic was too great. But they don't believe it. That's why they're there that it would help, but baby, it doesn't, does it? I think it's just gonna make it worse."

I started to get tired again, and it was kind of nice to hear Damon talk when I could lay my head on his chest and just listen. I fell asleep.

Mimi's breathing therapy lasted three weeks—every day, 3 hours of therapy, 2 hours off, and then back on the machine. Damon always took Mimi off and soothed her for two hours, and then Charles and Adam took Mimi back to therapy.

They couldn't believe it when Damon tried to explain every day that Mimi's panic wasn't subsiding, but it wasn't something that they wanted to understand. Charles and Adam firmly believed that once the concentration of the drug was reduced so that Mimi was alert, then Mimi could control herself, knowing that this was treatment, and then understand how to calm down when they helped.

Damon would have put Mimi on the machine alone and then let Adam and Charles take her off, but no. Mimi's panic didn't stop at all, and every time Damon lifted his limp and tired wife into his arms, he hated Damien so deeply he never thought it would be possible. He felt so helpless, that he could only hold her in his arms those two hours before it was time to torture her again. He did not let number two come near her and he had put number two to tend to mariella.

Mimi was absolutely powerless after every session, and Damon did his best to calm and remove the panic and the terror. His telepathy was in full force, or else there would have been so a terrible tangle of fear and horror that it would have driven her to escape.

During the breaks, while Mimi was in therapy, Damon taught Mariella how to cook. They fucked occasionally, but only for two hours at a time. He made number two tend the wolves and mariella too, more than he was. When the therapy was over, after a grueling three weeks, Damon breathed a sigh of relief.

When Charles said there would be no more treatments, I just leaned back on the pillows that had been placed behind my back for comfort. I had been fighting for three weeks with just about everything I had and a little extra, but now it was over. I just could not take anymore. I did not look at him. I closed my eyes, trying to rest.

I said nothing to Charles because I couldn't take it. I couldn't even think about what these three weeks had been like for the others. I was as exhausted as exhausted can be, but I didn't want to sleep because I had now associated falling asleep with waking up in the machine.

I knew I had to go to Atlanta to see that house, then trip to Lake Lanier, and then back to the house, but as the pack seemed to come together, I didn't know when. But I suspected there would be opportunities. Plus, I'd have to go through a couple of bank vaults and see what all Reddington had left me. As my rage woke up, I heard what had been done to my victims, my interrogation subjects, but I knew I had a few special ones, where I could unleash my rage. Now they might not live that long. 

I was lying in bed; I don't know how long, not sleeping but just being and thinking, when Damon came to me and sat on the edge of the bed. I opened my eyes, and looked at him, tired and I must have looked pretty worn out.

He looked at the floor for a moment and then looked up, in my eyes and said, his voice honest, quiet, " Me too, Mimi. I heard what you said at the fair, and even though I am what I am, with Mariella and all that, so am I. Remember that, baby, always and forever, as I have promised you. We have a wedding coming up then, you and me too. Now that I've got a new identity, I need to get married to you again. You're a goner, though. Baby, you look like shit. You should rest, but I guess you don't want to. But you should eat something. "

Damon stroked my hair out of my forehead the old-fashioned way, and I didn't flinch. I almost pressed my head against his hand. It was now comforting, not scary or twisted anymore. He smiled for a moment and then walked away. I remembered how I had professed my love for him. And now he said the same to me.

I finally pulled myself up and ducked into the shower. Now I could take as cool a shower as I wanted because I wasn't pregnant and I needed to freshen up. I pushed and showed everything that this had dredged up back into hiding, and I was ready once again to be cool as a cucumber and not be weak. Never be weak. I got dressed and went to dinner. Charles had told me about the new Australian ranch, but I had been transferred here to the Texas castle.

I wondered what was next. Do I go to Atlanta yet or a little later? Now I wasn't looking forward to the wedding that much, but I felt I didn't have any say in the matter one way or the other. It was one of those times when you just had to go with the flow. 

I ate in peace, as there was no one else there. I was making my plans, a lot of this would depend on what Pack was doing. Soon, however, I went to the lake Lanier because I had time. This would take a few weeks as I had to visit the relatives, but this was part of my job. It was obvious that the rest of the pack needed to unload my torture, or maybe it was that I was so impossible.

I could certainly feel how disappointed Adam and Charles were when their help was of no use. I can't help myself. I've been tortured so much with that device that I'll never get rid of it. Men were unloading themselves with wolves and Mariella had taken both of the damons. So I was alone, and I did not want to be the victim here. 

I went to Lake Lanier because I didn't want to be alone and do nothing. This was something that I knew and despite its being not anything nice, it brought this sad peace inside my heart, in there where I had my graveyard of fallen friends and important ones. 

Now I would have missed my men, but I fully understood when I felt them unloading everything on the wolves. It wasn't my thing. I did my duty as a leader and went to Lake Lanier and sat on a cold stone, feeling the cool wind of autumn chilling me, as I carved up 28 names. Smelling the stone dust, making me almost sneeze as the wind carried it around and took flower deliveries to the relatives, had a chat and coffee. I was on the road for another three weeks, and no one had even noticed I was gone.

When I came back, the house was empty, and there was a note on the table that they were going to Ireland Castle to unload the bollocks, and the men and the wolves moved in to fuck. Fine, be on your own, then. I started planning a trip to my bank vaults and wondered what I would and would not take from them.

I made big plans and looked into tips and gossip. I tried to come up with a way to unload, but nothing helped. Not even going to the gym. Fine. I couldn't think of one way, and that was fight clubs. I had interrogated my victims. Luckily, they were still alive and kept safe, as they would serve me as unloading tools over the years.

I had done a few things to ensure that they survived years to come, and it was only four people that knew their existence and none of them had ever talked with any member of my pack, nor they would. 

But before I could even think about going, Mimosa came up to me and said, "Mimi, European job. Time to save the world. Here's the information. Now I don't know how the rest of the pack will take part, because we're still working on it, but you're in a hurry." She gave me details and teleported away.

Fine. Now I was as ready as I could be. Even the German clubs didn't seem as overwhelming as before. I just took all the information, got my gear, and went on with the business of saving the world. Because it was my duty, my job more or less and there was no time ever for me to unload my frustrations in bed, fucking like crazy, I just did not have that option. I had to be ready to do this and this needed the right attitude, the right fitness, and plenty of my rage. 

Damon felt that again the entire pack had betrayed Mimi, after they'd unloaded for two weeks with the two, and then slept for 12 hours and then wildly went to fuck. Again, two weeks had passed, and Damon knew Mimi had been on the European gig for a month.

He was not a good husband, not a supportive partner for her and somehow he sensed that Mimi's rage had been growing and she was the force of nature, more or less. It made him feel somehow, not good enough, so he let his need to fuck take over still.

So he still felt the need to fuck, to unload, control, and yet, Mimi alone in Europe was going through fight clubs with no backup because he knew Adam and Charles were also fucking wolves. He said nothing about the Europe job to Mariella because she might start blaming herself.

He was protecting Mariella, knowing that she might get upset because she had not talked with Mimi at all, not after that torture and not during it. He knew Mimi was not in a good place with her mind, yet he felt powerless to intervene. 

It was working as I started to save the world. Alone, with no backup, not much anyway as there was no Magnum, no Charles, and the pack had to fuck, not save the world. I was on this. Portugal took a week, four clubs, four nights, and the other three were sabotage, mysteries, and street fights.

Then I moved on to Spain. Same old bullfight fight clubs with demons and wizards and who knows what, but I had a good pile of rage, and more and more of it was born. It was like I had a never-ending supply with it and I could also feel power getting restless deep inside me, vortex forming so there was that but I would not have a chance to unload that anytime soon and I would have just gotten used to that feeling of pressure inside deep recesses of my mind. 

But I controlled myself, barely. In the audience were Damien and Sark. And Damien was arrogant. He could come almost to the cage, take out a syringe, and tap the air bubbles out of it. I didn't care, but let my rage grow. I combined it with my own will, and it became super-violent.

I evolved, so a few times; I used my new rage, as telekinesis, and with a lazy flick of my hand, I threw Damien meters backward, so the syringe was flung out of his hand and usually destroyed. He was looking at me more beastly after those few times, but Sark; was interested in me, more than before, because of my abilities. 

I killed the fuckers and watched out for Damien and Sark. Although it helped a lot with the rage when I saw Damien handing out syringes to the fuckers with great enthusiasm. Feel free. Come on, I'm ready. I let my rage burn everything out of my mind. And I was a soulless killing machine. I let my darkness come out. Then France, same thing, only two clubs and lots of other stuff so I could get in on the action.

I just thought at one point that the wedding would be postponed quite a bit if I had to be involved. But I don't know if they have a wedding, even while I'm at the fight clubs. This little thing, called world-saving, will come first and then there are no times to have big white weddings, at least for me.