Dakota
It took four teeth, two pulled off fingernails, a smashed thumb, and salt rubbed directly in several open wounds for Dakota to finally pass out again. He’d remained near-silent the whole time. Barely a whimper escaped his throat.
Unbeknownst to his captors, the pain wasn’t even that bad toward the end. They’d overloaded his system, maxed him out. His face felt hot from the damage done, but mostly, it amounted to little more than a dull ache. If they really knew what they were doing, he thought, they would have saved the other punishments for later.
When he awoke—no telling how long he’d been out—Dakota no longer sat tied to the stiff chair, which had been removed entirely from the room. He lay on his side on the dirty floor. By sound, he could tell that they’d left him alone, but
