ATOM INC by O.C. Heaton

Author:O.C. Heaton [Heaton, OC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

Al-Ha'ir Prison, 25 South of Riyadh

3rd May 2010, 22:47 hours AST

The heat crushed down on him, enveloping him in its grasp like a deep ocean from which there was no escape. He tried to raise his head off the thin mattress, but it felt granite heavy, so he just lay there, trying to regulate his breathing. Every breath hurt, as if hell-heated air was being pumped deep into his chest, regardless of how carefully he sipped at it. Ethan heard a scratching sound above and cracked an eyelid, wincing as it scoured the dry cornea like sandpaper. A rat appeared, inching across the ceiling like a furry arachnid, nose aquiver as it searched out danger. Satisfied, it scuttled down the wall, disappearing out of Ethan’s peripheral vision, although he could still hear it scratching around the filthy cell for food. It would find none here. In fact, no sustenance of any description. Ethan tried to ignore the gnawing pain in his gut, uncertain if was just hunger or a more dangerous foe. He could feel the past shifting, waiting for the tectonic plates he had carefully constructed to crack open, so it could crawl up from the depths of his belly like an invading force of night terrors, slobbering and shuffling into the daylight with gleeful abandon. A past that promised unimaginable pain: the crack of a bullwhip, the flick of metal ripping into soft flesh, blood running freely down his back, and then the aftermath – lying face down on another dirty mattress in a similar cell, a lifetime of hurt compressed into each breath as he prayed for the sweet solace of death. Ethan suppressed a sob.

A rattling of keys made him sit up and he groaned as broken ribs competed with his fractured wrist from the beating he had suffered. Two guards appeared. They looked nervous, moving cautiously into the cell, keeping their backs to the wall, anxious to keep the man that fought like a demon in full sight. One threw some clothes onto the bed, nodding at Ethan, who stared at them. He’d worn these once before, knew what they meant. Ethan thought about refusing, but the beatings would follow and the pants would always go on. He rolled off the bed and stripped naked. As he bent to recover the thin material, they both gasped at his back – a riot of angry scars, the hard flesh rising and falling like a polluted sea. The other guard threw a pair of manacles onto the floor. Ethan stepped into those as well, clicking them shut. Emboldened, the man stepped forward, inserting Ethan’s wrists into a matching pair of cuffs that were connected to their cousins by a thick iron chain.

Ethan stood there waiting, his stomach a tangle of emotions, as he prepared to be led out of the cell for his sentencing, and the inevitable punishment. His back flared with referred pain, an explosion of agony that knew no depths, just a headlong plunge into a bottomless abyss of hurt.

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