Page 35 of Corrado

It could be any or all of those things, he understood. There was no real thing for him to use to mark the time in these rooms. Not when the people came just enough to give him food, as little as that was, or to beat the hell out of him again.

Never mind when they switched rooms.

Hood over his head.

Rough hands.

Harsh orders in his ears.

Still, he found comfort in the silence and the darkness. Oh, it played tricks on him, sure. The darkness chased away his ability to sleep, making him wired and staring into black space until he was sure he fell asleep just like that.

Sitting there.

With his eyes open.

Some people couldn’t take darkness.

Corrado found he liked it.

He’d started measuring his breaths to combat the pain he constantly battled, but even that wasn’t helping now. Nothing helped.

A buzz speared through the silence of the room, but unlike before when Corrado was new to these rooms, he no longer froze in fear and panic at the sound. That buzzer meant one of three things, and none of them made him afraid anymore.

One, a room switch.

Two, a beating.

Three, food and water.

There was no fourth option, and he had become so used to it being either a room switch or a beating far more often than food that he no longer gave a damn. He wasn’t going to start in fear every time they came into the room for him—maybe they wanted that, or perhaps they liked it too much.

Whatever it was, he wouldn’t be doing it.

The door opening was the only bit of light he got to see now. Just a slate of bright yellow color that seemed so blinding when the door moved that he had to look away from it so that his eyes didn’t sting. Although, the one thing that never changed regardless if they were bringing him food or there to deliver a beating was the fact that the whole team entered the room.

All five of them.

Or was it six?

Corrado wasn’t sure.

It didn’t matter.

All of them contributed to his training. In one way or another.

Except this time, only one person was haloed by the light of the door. His shadow stretched along the cement floor with the stream of color, dragging through wet spots and cracks only to stop right before Corrado’s feet.

A part of him just knew who it was. Maybe by the body shape, or the shaggy hair that the figure pushed back with one hand.

“Les,” he mumbled.

It was easier than saying Alessio’s full name.

His mouth hurt.

It all fucking hurt.

Alessio crossed the floor with quick steps, and never once did the door close behind him. Something else that was entirely unusual. When the team stepped into the rooms, the door always closed behind them. Like they were worried he might try to bolt, and they decided to take the option away altogether.