"Water."
The sound that left his mouth didn't sound like word he wanted to say. It didn't sound humane. If he could guess he would say that was hissing of a lizard, one of those slow brown ones with shiny scales and sharp teeth. He could picture one of those lizards, sound they make when their claws hit the concrete, fishy smell that surrounds them, their yellow snake-like eyes, forked tongue. Yet, it's been some time since he could picture members of his family. Christian. Hay-Hay. Mom. Aunt Jenna. Even the man that had no right to be called his father. He could still remember their names, but every time he tries to picture them, their faces, he couldn't have done it. Nothing.
Thirst.
He was floating between unconsciousness and awareness last few days, or was it a week, already? He couldn't tell, the last time he saw the Sun, or the Moon was....well, he couldn't exactly remember that either. He didn't need want to open his eyes to see where he was, because the picture never changed itself. Everything he could see was there longer than him, he wondered if they build this place only for him but he soon rejected that idea as incredibly stupid one. They wouldn't bother to build something like this for him, it's more likely they threw him in first abandoned warehouse they saw, and probably left him to die here. He wouldn't object. Every inch of his body was injured, he could felt burning pain with every short inhale he took, opening his eyes was simply too difficult, so he kept them closed. It took him giant effort to move one his finger. One. Though, he would do it, he would kill for a drop of water.
"Hello Mr. O'Sullivan." The warehouse door open and She came in. He hasn't seen her for a couple of days so he kind of started hoping she won't come here again. He was wrong, obviously. He didn't make a sound, didn't twitch or show her he heard her on any other way. "Why wouldn't you look at me, Christian?" Her voice was louder this time, and he felt her fingers raising his chin. He stayed still, not wanting to open his eyes. He already saw Her plenty of times, and didn't want to do that again. He could hear her calm breathing getting faster with excitement. Poor sick woman, he thought.
"Oh Chrissy, but why? I want to see those beautiful eyes." She whispered mocking him. When he gave, her no answer, her hand suddenly left his chin and She took a step back. A moment later he felt sharp pain burning between his ribs. A groan left his throat before he could stop it. "Look at me, Christian. Look at me!" He stubbornly kept his eyes closed but regretted that the moment she rotated the knife that was still buried deep in his flesh. His eyes opened, two green circles appeared in a small gap between his eyelids, and those circles were filled with pure hate while he gazed at her.
"Now we're talking, Christian." He could see dozens of white teeth when her lips parted into a huge grin. "Why wouldn't you tell me where is the notebook?" She pulled the knife out when She was sure She got his full attention. He shivered as pain started to settle in, he would get used to it, eventually, like he got used to every other injury he got, but he'll need time for that. Time he doubted he had. He shook his head instead of speaking. He had no idea what notebook she want, he didn't have one, though he would buy her a thousands of notebooks if she would let him to die, yet he doubted she wanted that. "That's not the answer I expected." The pain came again as she slid the knife into a fresh wound again, making him groan again. "I'll visit you tomorrow to see if you changed your mind. That is, if you survive until tomorrow." She laughed, turned around and started walking towards the door. It starts again, he sighed. The last thing he heard before letting the dark fill his mind again was soft sound of her feets hitting dusty wooden floor.
Sebastien woke up crumpling sheets in his fist. Alone. He was alone. His glanced around to confirm that, only to be sure She isn't here. His ragged breathing calmed down as he realized he's the only person in the room. His room, not some warehouse who knows where, it was his room, his home. Home? No, not his home, his apartment. His head fell back on a fluffy cushion slightly soaked with sweat. Ex-Slytherin closed his eyes and found the place where she wounded him, well one of many places, but the one he saw in a nightmare. The wound healed long time ago, he could feel scar about two inches long under his touch. He didn't need to look at it to know it paled from bright pink to silvery white colour, as well as every other scar he got there did. He wasn't sure why, but he assumed they used some kind of potion that healed his wounds faster than usual, not because they hated seeing him suffer, but because if they didn't use it, he would bled to death, and for some reason they needed him alive so they could torture him.
O'Sullivan abruptly sat in his bed looking in his reflection in the mirror. He still hasn't found out why they tortured him. They wanted the notebook, he knew, but why? What could be that important? He ran a hand through his hair. It was obvious they didn't know his name, well they didn't know which brother they were keeping in shackles but he couldn't imagine what Christian could have done to earn treatment like the one he had. The notebook. He guessed it's the key. Or the key is written on its pages, there's no other option. Harder thing would be to actually find that notebook, especially if he has never seen it before, nor he knew where he could start looking for it. He had just one name. He frowned and started pulling his clothes one. His brother's name. Christian O'Sullivan. He needed to start from him, or leave that and start to forget it, though that seemed unlikely since the dreams haven't show any intention to stop and let him sleep in peace for just one day. Was that too much to ask?
He walked into a living room, his bare feet slowly becoming numb with cold. Sebastien turned the TV off, Barbara had that irritating habit of leaving it on even after she leaves the room, and walked toward her room. He quietly opened the door and peered inside. After he made sure she's in her bed (where else should she be this early in the morning?), he went to the kitchen. Pulling cheese and salami out of fridges, he cut two slices of bread and made a sandwich. Sebastien put everything back in the fridge and wrote short message for his daughter to explain her where he's going, told her she has a sandwich waiting for her in the fridge, and to remind her not to eat chocolate few minutes after she gets up cause it makes her sick, promising that he'll take her to Flourean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour if she doesn't blow up the apartment till he gets back. After he left the message on a place he was sure she'll find it, he pulled some socks and put on his shoes. He left the apartment, locked the door and warded it with a spell that should make a lot of noise and inform him if anyone tries to come in uninvited.
After thirty minutes he was banging on Christian's door and hoping his brother is alone. He loved his brother, but he loved him more with his clothes on. Waiting in front of the door he tried to think of a reason that could justify his visit this early int he morning because Sebastien needed some answers or he's going to explode. Waiting a few hours before visiting Chris wasn't even an option, although he knew his brother might want to stab him to death after he opens the door. If he opens the door, that is.