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Darkest Nights	By : Bucken-Berry Category: G through L > Law & Order Views: 1449 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own SVU or it's characters and I'm not making money from this.

Chapter List
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"See, I knew we were right about you. Now do you understand?"
George's eyes snapped open at once. "I understand!" George lied. Judging from his attacker's previous reactions, it was possible that just telling them what they wanted to hear would be enough to save himself, and then Elliot and the rest of the NYPD would find him and get him the hell out of here, and he would go to the hospital, and they would knock him out with pain medicine…
Then he'd go home, curl into a ball on his bed. Elliot would stay with him and soothe him, rub his sore muscles, help put medicine on his wounds. He'd would hold him close and tell him it was okay, and then they would listen to his favorite classical music CD and he would fall asleep, finally rest his aching body without having to stay hyper-alert. Elliot would protect him, and George would forget anything had ever happened-
A loud snarl from one of his attackers brought him back to reality. "You're lying. You don't believe it yet- you're too arrogant, too stupid, to understand."
"No- I understand, really…" George protested weakly. He didn't sound convincing, even to his own ears.
"You'll regret lying to me," the attacker vowed. His voice became low, dangerously quiet. "You're going to be punished for this. You're going to regret lying to me- I know everything going through your head, and you should have known that I'm that much better than you. I'm going to show you, once and for all."
Oh god- he had made a lethal mistake. He was so stupid, he had to fix his blunder- "N-no, no, I-I'm not!" His voice was a terrified squeak. "How can I c-convince you? Y-you're right, you're right, I b-believe you! I u-under-s-stand now, I d-deserve this, all of it! I'M NOT LYING!"
He became hysterical with terror. "I'M NOT LYING! I'M NOT LYING!" he screamed. "I'M NOT-"
"Shut up!" his attackers roared. Another burn was made on his stomach, and then he was pushed over, so that most of his body weight was on the burned, reddened and blistered skin. He screamed, ripping his throat raw, at the white-hot pain coursing through his body.
Tears fell down his face as he sobbed uncontrollably, his entire body shaking from pain and sheer terror. He even started to try to move away, even though he knew how dangerous that was. He thrashed and kicked with strength he didn't even know he had, trying frantically to escape.
They quickly had him pinned again, and they pulled out a knife- they were going to- no, he didn't want to! "No no no no, please don't kill me! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you! Don't kill me! You're right, you're right, I deserve it, all of it!"
The knife came to rest over his jugular, and he knew that they were about to take his life, and he was terrified, he didn't want to die here, he needed to convince them-
"Please, I'm begging you, please, don't k-kill me! I'm so, so sorry, I promise I won't upset you again! I don't want to die! Just give me one more chance, I'll do whatever you want, I'll say whatever you want- I'm pathetic and worthless, I'm arrogant, I deserve everything you're doing to me! I understand, I'll say it as much as you want, just please let me live! Please, I don't want to die!" he cried. His voice became higher pitched and squeakier, and eventually it cracked from fear.
The knife pressed harder, and he screamed in mortal terror, louder than he had ever screamed before. "NOOO-OOOOOO!" They began to draw blood- just another stroke- he screamed again, as loud as he possibly could, desperately trying to get them to spare his life.
He was going to die here. He gave a sob and a whimper as he resigned himself, waiting for the instant of pain, the blood gushing out of his neck, and then the darkness. He was down to his last moments. He wouldn't get to see anyone he cared about again, and he wouldn't get to tell Elliot how he felt. He wouldn't even get to say goodbye to anyone. His body shook as he waited to feel the knife cutting his jugular, ending everything.
But then they laughed and removed the knife. "We won't kill you- yet. But if you fight us one more time…" The threat didn't need to be voiced. George immediately stopped, forcing his body to go completely still.
"I won't, I promise I won't… just don't kill me. Please, please no…" he whimpered. Was that really his voice? He sounded absolutely pathetic, a high-pitched, terrified, desperate imitation of the confident, stoic man he had been, and he hated it. He had been reduced to someone so pathetic and fearful. How much more of his dignity was going to be taken from him? Did he even deserve to have dignity anymore? Maybe this was why- maybe he deserved what they were doing to him after all…
They moved the knife to his shoulder, directly over the cut they'd just made. For the first time, they actually stabbed, rather than cut, the skin. It still wasn't enough to be lethal, but it was much more painful, especially because of the laceration that was already there. And, to make it worse, he knew he'd soon lose enough blood to feel weak and dizzy.
Then the attackers twisted the knife, increasing the agony. George's legs squirmed in protest, but otherwise, he was still. He kept his body as still as he possibly could. He couldn't afford to make any movements that would make them think he was fighting them.
"Apologize to us," someone ordered him.
"I'm sorry I fought back… I'm sorry I upset you so-" he began immediately.
"We know you're sorry for that. Apologize for the real things you've done, like being such a waste of life," the person snarled. "Apologize for being so fucking arrogant, so arrogant that you can't even name your most obvious flaws. Apologize for being so pathetic. This is all your fault; if you were a decent person, we wouldn't have to do this."
"I'm sorry I'm such a waste, and I'm sorry I'm arrogant and pathetic… You're right about me. I'm worthless. I deserve this, and I'm a terrible person…" he whispered hoarsely. He felt the pain from the stab wound pulsating through his body, vibrating with every heartbeat. But… he deserved the pain.
It did make sense, in an odd way- if he was a good, just person, why would they go so far out of their way to hurt him? He had to have done something wrong; he just couldn't figure out what. And that proved that he was arrogant- he couldn't name what he'd done to deserve this, even though it was obvious that there was something. He couldn't even admit his own flaws. And his reactions while he'd been here proved how pathetic he was, too. He hated to admit it, but his attackers were right.
"Good, you're learning… But you still need to be punished for fighting us," they told him coldly.
"Then what was that for?" George whispered, turning his head to gesture at his injured shoulder. "Was that- was that because of me being pathetic, too? Was it because I'm arrogant?"
"Yes," they said. They grabbed a lighter and lit another cigarette, then they pressed it to his stomach. The burn was absolutely agonizing. He could feel the blisters forming as they continued pressing the cigarette into his stomach and dragging it across his skin.
Eventually, the cigarette went out, and they held the lighter to his stomach, then they relit the cigarette and pressed it to his stomach again. He shivered in response to the agonizing heat assaulting his stomach. He whimpered and held his breath, using every bit of willpower he had not to fight back.
But still, he deserved this. "I wish I was a good person, like Elliot…" George whispered, almost too quietly for anyone to hear.
"But you aren't. You have far too many flaws," his attackers told him. "So you're staying here, and you deserve everything we are going to do to you. You don't deserve to live, but you don't deserve the peace of death- unless we decide you've been punished enough. Until then, the pain is all you deserve."
They continued burning him until he was barely coherent, almost delirious from pain. His mind was clouded, and when he managed to think, the thoughts flashed across his brain as vague ideas, rather than words. "I'm worthless…" he whispered weakly. "You're right- I deserve this…"
They laughed- they were always, always laughing at him, always tormenting him- then they finally left. George couldn't even bring himself to care about the fact that they'd be back, long before his body had a chance to recover from the latest assault. He was alive, for now- maybe he'd even be saved before they hurt him again, if he was lucky… If he managed to prove that he deserved to leave this place. He'd have to stop what he was doing, first, and maybe then he'd earn his way out…
He continued to shake, heart pounding in his chest, as he pushed himself to his knees. His weak, battered body protested, but a new wave of nausea required him to move. His stomach was completely empty- he hadn't eaten for days- yet he still vomited, a reaction to the constant panic and the hysterical sobbing of the last- how long had it been? It didn't matter a great deal, anyway...
He managed to crawl to the opposite end of the small room, where the ground was somewhat cleaner, but the vomiting had put too much strain on him. He collapsed, too weak to move a muscle. The pain increased as the angry red burn made contact with the ground, but that was getting more distant. He could barely muster the energy to breathe, and his consciousness was fading.
Oh, why was he even trying? He knew they would do what they wanted anyway, and they would take his life regardless of what they were saying now…. He was only delaying the inevitable. But maybe there was still some hope left- Elliot would find him, he had to. Elliot wouldn't let him die here, alone and afraid and in agonizing pain- surely he'd be saved before he broke? Elliot wouldn't let them succeed.
George deserved the pain, but he didn't want it. Elliot didn't want him to be in pain either, and Elliot would save him, and take care of him. Elliot would help him recover… But no matter how much he told himself that, he couldn't bring himself to believe it.
And even worse, he realized as the pain flared again, a large part of him didn't want to be saved anymore. He had just screamed and fought, battling for his life, but now he was in too much pain. He no longer cared about the fear of dying; the pain erased everything else. He wanted to be with Elliot, but the thought was giving him less and less comfort every time. And without the comfort, he was losing strength rapidly. He didn't have enough strength to do this.
He wanted to die.
Elliot was worried. How long was George going to be trapped in the flashback? Would he be able to help George out of it? "George, you're okay; it's just me. You're safe with me. They don't have you- they can't do a thing to hurt you anymore," He said.
He continued trying to bring George out of the flashback, but nothing he did seemed to work.
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- 33
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Darkest Nights