[This ended up more of a spiritual prompt than a literal one]
Every day. Every day, he went down there and tried to make the bastard feel even a hint of what they had made him feel. And every day, he practically had to run back up the stairs so they wouldn’t see his angry tears.
He should really just leave at this point. Actually, he should have left before doing anything that would legally count as assault. But he’d had the monumentally stupid idea to make the bastard pay for it, and now he couldn’t give up. That would be letting them win.
So, that’s how he ended up back in that basement, when he should have been on the other side of the continent. That's how he ended up screaming at a tied-up captive who still wore the same shit-eating grin they’d had when he was the one in chains.
“If you’re going to give yourself a heart attack, can you at least stand a little closer?” they taunted.
He glared at them, but as always they continued talking. Always talking. “Easier to grab the key" -- they shook their shackles -- "from your corpse that way.”
Involuntarily his hand moved to tap the key. It stopped once he saw the bastard’s grin widen.
“Front left. Got it, thanks!”
He tried to glare harder, but it didn’t feel like it was coming across. After a moment he took the key from his front left pocket, dangled it enticingly in front of them… then stepped over to the trash can and dropped it in.
“Aw, now you’re going to get your arm all dirty.”
The smug look he was preparing fell away, unused. “What?”
“When you take the key out of the trash.”
“I don’t need to take the key out of the trash. That’s the point. I’m not letting you out.”
“Hmm. I don’t know about that. I do know you won’t be able to sleep with the key in the same room as me, though. Who knows what I’ll do.” They grinned up at them. That same grin. Always that same grin.
He tried to glare even harder. “You’re chained up on the other side of the room.”
“I’m very resourceful. Don’t you remember all those fun toys I made you?”
His fists clenched. “Don’t you ever just shut up?”
“Not unless you have something else to keep my mouth busy.” They looked up at him and batted their eyelashes.
This was bait. He knew it was. But he couldn't stop himself. “Are you trying to, what, suck my dick or something?”
“Absolutely the fuck not. Even if I wanted that you’d probably just bite it off.”
Their eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s an idea.” They giggled. “New bottom surgery just dropped.”
“Can you stop being so fucking weird while I’m trying to torture you?” His voice was getting louder again.
“It’s not my fault you’re a fucking weirdo who laughs when they’re being whipped!” He was yelling now.
They had the audacity to laugh again. “That was only because you were so bad at it! If you did it properly I wouldn’t be able to laugh.” They winked at him. They actually fucking winked. With their hands in chains — their own chains — and him with the key. They winked.
"I don’t care!" He was shouting, but he couldn't help himself. "I remember everything you did to me. Every fucking thing. And I will do them all to you if I have to. There must be something you—”
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure you’ll find something you’re good at.” They giggled again. “Like bleeding.”
This time he ignored them. Mostly to himself, he muttered “Oh. That's how you work. That's why..." he trailed off. "So what didn’t you do to me?” His eyes scanned the room. Until they landed on something.
He found a screwdriver easily (“Ooh, fun!”). The persistent ache in his thigh was a constant reminder of the last time it had been used. He continued ignoring his leg and his captive as he crossed to the socket on the wall and began unscrewing the cover.
“What are you…” He heard the sound of chains jingling but ignored them too. He knew from experience that you couldn’t reach the outlet with them.
He took extra care when unscrewing the bare wire ends from the posts and pulling a length out from the wall. The chains jingled again, and when he turned around he was pleased to see his captive had retreated as far as they could.
“You have a thoughtful electrician,” he said, walking closer. “They left me plenty of length to work with.”
“Now that is actually dangerous, you know.” He savored the note of concern that had finally crept into their voice. “You could actually kill me with that. You don’t want to kill me. Or yourself!”
“I heard it only kills you if it crosses through your heart. Don’t worry, I’ll stick to one limb at a time.” He continued advancing, with the wires held out in front of him.
“No, you... Ok, fine, you win this one, I’ll shut up. See?” They made a show of clamping their mouth shut.
He didn't stop. “Don’t struggle now, or I might accidentally get two arms at once. Like you said, I don’t want to kill you.”
They froze as he brought the wires to their arm. Their eyes wide and — was that pleading? He took a moment to savor it, in case it was.
They let out a stifled yelp when the wires touched their arm. Even though the muscle spasm yanked it away before any damage was done. To their credit, they continued to keep their mouth closed.
“What were you asking for earlier? Something to keep your mouth busy?” He waggled the wires in front of their face. “Open up!”
Their eyes went wide and they quickly shook their head. He could see the muscles in their jaw clenching.
“I've heard electricity conducts better on something that's wet. So I guess if you don’t want to open your mouth I could use an eye.”
Their eyes went even wider.
“Only one at a time, cause I think your eyes are connected through your brain. Doing both of them might kill you too.”
They pressed their back into the wall and shook their head again. Even more vigorously this time.
“Choose, then. Eyes or tongue.”
They screwed up their eyes. Then slowly, timidly, they opened their mouth and stuck out their tongue. Tears started to well up in the corners of their eyes, probably from how hard they were clenching them shut, but he could still enjoy it.
"Cleathe don'", they forced out. He considered stopping for a moment. Just for a moment.
He reached out with a finger to poke their tongue. As soon as it made contact they flinched so hard he couldn't help but laugh. Their breathing was practically hyperventilating by now, but their tongue was still out.
“Well, since you’re being so good, mayb—” in the middle of the word he brought the wires to their tongue. Their head jerked back so violently it smashed into the concrete wall behind them. They let out a sharp cry and rocked forward again. Luckily his hand had jerked away at their initial reaction, otherwise they might have gotten that zap through the brain after all.
He couldn’t see their face from the way they were doubled over, but their groans confirmed they were still alive. “You never did head trauma either. Two for one, I guess.” He waited for the quippy reply. Pushing down the guilt that was threatening to surface.
“Come on, you’re not even bleeding.” They hissed as he put his fingers through their hair to check. “Much,” he added.
“I want to see if I can give you electrical burns with this.” He waggled the wires again, but got no reaction. They remained doubled over and breathing heavily.
“Fine. We can do that tomorrow.” His last attempt to get a reaction yielded nothing. He sighed, stood up, and resolved to google concussion symptoms once he got upstairs. He might have to take a break for a while. But still, this had been a good day, right?
On the way out, he remembered to grab the trash can.
