Chapter 42. Help

“Wakey-wakey,” the Torturer’s annoyingly playful voice rang through Carlos’s sleep haze. “We have some new developments. That’s always fun, right?”

Carlos opened his eyes and saw the older man in the low light coming from fixtures around the room. He wasn’t sure if it was the prolonged stay in darkness or the intensely bright light over him every other moment, but his eyes were beginning to throb at every slight change in lighting, and his peripheral vision appeared to have acquired a slight blur.

“How is my patient feeling?” the Torturer continued. “Any discomfort?”

Carlos didn’t bother to tell him to go to hell. He was weak—a weakness that permeated his muscles and bones—and although he had not received any torment from the Torturer in the last two days as the man had taken to playing doctor and focused on his recovery from the lines that were drawn over the backs of his fingers and over his limbs and toes, he could still feel the throbbing pain through basically