Warning: This chapter contains explicit non-consent themes that some may find triggering. Read at your own discretion. 

Once inside the inspection room, I took in my surroundings. By the left wall stood a huge steel cabinet freezer similar to the ones in morgues, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it kept dead bodies inside. A chill raced down my spine at the sight of a steel table with all sorts of sharp surgical tools on top, all glistening underneath the lamp’s glare. Next to the table was an examination bed covered with disposable white tissue.

Busy preparing something by the sink was the dark-haired nurse who’d ushered me in, his back to me.

I stood in place, waiting to be told what to do. I already had partial knowledge of the searches and tests that they were going to conduct, such as a strip search.

Minutes ticked by and I soon became annoyed by the man’s purposefully dismissive behavior; he not once turned around to address or even glance at me.

“Excuse me, should I sit down on the bed?” I called.

The nurse ignored me.

I frowned, annoyed. Was he hard of hearing or something?

Impatient, I went to sit on the bed anyway.

That seemed to get the man’s attention, for he whirled around, his blazing green eyes taking me by surprise. I instinctively gulped and stated to fidget atop the bed.

Now that I took a better look at his physique, I saw that he possessed a well-built body, like a surfer’s.

“Who told you to sit?” he barked, his voice deeper than I’d imagined it to be, baritone. Slowly, he removed his mask, revealing a handsome, hard-edged face.

Defensively, I said, “Well, you wouldn’t tell me what to do so I figured I’d get myself comfortable while you finished whatever the hell you’re doing.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, openly assessing me. There was something suspicious in his eyes, something dangerous. I could practically feel the malice radiating off him in waves. I resisted the abrupt urge to squirm under his scrutiny, forcing myself to remain still.

What could he do to me, anyway?

He walked over to a white phone hanging on the wall and dialed a number. After a second or two, whoever he was calling picked up the phone. Into the receiver, he said, “Hey, I need your assistance with a prisoner. He needs breaking. Keep the coast clear.”

At his words, alarm bells sounded in my head. What did he mean by it? And did I really want to find out?

I jumped off the bed and said, “I don’t want any trouble. I was just tired and wanted to sit.”

He hung up the phone and rotated to face me with that same scrutinizing gaze. He cocked his head to the side and, once again, began evaluating my entire form with his eyes like he was committing it to memory.

The sound of the door clicking open behind me drew my attention. Before I could even see who it was, someone had their arms around my chest from behind, trapping my hands. Something extremely sharp stabbed my neck, piercing the sensitive skin, and I bucked. I felt a liquid being injected into my neck. Whoever had seized hold of me abruptly released me.

I stumbled, my legs feeling numb and weak all of a sudden. And it wasn’t just my legs; my entire body felt too weak to move. A wave of faint washed over me, and I succumbed to it. I crumbled to the floor and lay motionless on the bleach-smelling tiles, wondering what the hell was injected into me.

Was it some sort of drug? It had to be.

My vision grew cloudy alarmingly fast, but before darkness completely engulfed me, I saw someone I hadn’t seen before hand the male nurse a pack of cigarettes, and then two pairs of shoe-clad feet advancing toward me.

 **** 

As slow as the sun rising, consciousness returned to me. Eyes fluttering open, my vision was assaulted by bright white light, blinding me, making me immediately squeeze my eyes shut. With extreme caution, I pried my eyes open again and turned my head away from the bright light.

When I tried to move, I regretted it immediately. Pain exploded in my skull and I groaned. It was similar to a hangover, but ten times worse.

“Ah, you’re awake.” A velvety, sickly sweet voice drifted to my ears. "I'm Gerard." 

I tried to sit to see who had spoken. When all I could do was fidget and twist like a writhing warm, I looked down at myself and saw that I’d been tied to what appeared to be the inspection room’s examination bed, my hands and legs secured to the table with metal restraints.

My heart leapt at the sight of my naked body displayed on the bed for the world to see. The bastards had stripped me of my clothes.

 “Oh, don’t be frightened, little kitty.”

My eyes frantically roamed around the inspection room until they found him. I had expected to see the nurse, but it was another prisoner in their prison uniform. The orange jacket lay loose about his hips, wrapped around his waist, most likely to display his array of colorful tattoos.

Shamelessly and with a dark smirk adorning his face, he reached out a hand and touched my chest, rubbing his rough, scaly-like palms against me intimately, making the hairs at the back of my neck rise.

Eyes widening in shock, I let out a horrified gasp.

“What the hell!” Furious, I struggled against the binds, my bare skin protesting in pain when the cold metal dug into my flesh. His touch disgusted me enough to make bile rise in my throat.

“Relax. You’ll enjoy this,” he purred with that same infuriating smirk.

Chills skittered down my arm and neck, goosebumps doting my arms and legs. Heart hammering furiously against my ribcage, I yelled, “Stop this, you asshole! What do you think you’re doing?”

I gasped loudly when he squeezed my nipples with his rough hands, the act unfamiliarly intimate and violating. I bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, resisting the overwhelming urge to cry out. Again, he squeezed and played with the soft buds, managing to elicit a cry out of me as the pads of his thumbs rubbed against them continuously.

Fighting against the restraints like a mad man, I let out a colorful steam of cusses.

Undaunted, he persisted.

“Don’t fucking touch me, you bastard!” I wailed angrily once again.

I looked around for the nurse, but he was nowhere to be found. I was on my own. Who was I going to call to in a situation like this? No one would help me even if they did hear me, and the freak obviously wasn't going to stop no matter how hard or how much I yelled and cried, so what in God's name was I going to do? In dire situations like these, what did people do?

 “You’re a stubborn one, I’ll say. Everyone else just sits and enjoys it. Relax; this is just procedure here."