Returning From the Torture Novel

I am the protagonist of a torture-porn tragedy. The rules are simple: once my Misery Index hits 100, I get to wake up. I get to go back to the real world.

My wife, Elena, had me strapped to a sterile surgical table in a private clinic. The scalpel in her hand was steady, cold against my skin.

Jonah was burned, Gavin. He needs a skin graft.

Her voice was devoid of emotion, clinical and detached.

"He has a low tolerance for pain. He cant handle the harvest. It has to be yours."

Without waiting for a response, she pushed the plunger, sending the anesthetic burning through my veins.

When I woke up, the room was empty.

My phone, resting on the bedside table, buzzed incessantly.

It was a text from Jonah.

Elena is incredible. You really fed her well before I got here.

I stared at the taunt. A bitter, self-deprecating laugh bubbled up in my throat, pulling painfully at the fresh stitches across my chest.

The pain bloomed like a dark flower.

[Current Misery Index: 90/100]

Elena didnt show up until the dead of night. By then, the anesthesia had worn off, leaving me thrashing in a sweat-soaked haze of raw nerve endings.

"Still awake?"

She placed a hand on my forehead. Cool, soft. A lie.

As she leaned over to check my temperature, the neckline of her silk blouse shifted. I saw itthe fresh, bruising mark of a hickey on her collarbone.

"Good. No fever," she murmured, pulling up a chair. "Ill stay with you tonight."

She sat down, eyes cast downward. I searched her face for a flicker of guilt, a trace of the infidelity I knew was there. There was nothing. Just a smooth, marble mask.

The silence in the VIP suite was suffocating.

Eventually, Elena couldn't handle the quiet.

"Jonah has a coagulation disorder," she said, her voice tight. "Taking skin from his own body wasn't an option."

She stared at me, waiting. Waiting for the explosion. The jealousy. The screaming match.

I just stared at the ceiling. "Mm."

My indifference seemed to irritate her more than my anger ever did.

"Gavin, don't think I don't know what you're doing," she snapped. "I know you hate him. I know youre jealous. But you owe him this."

Her eyes narrowed. "Heal up. And don't even think about retaliation."

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and gave a small nod.

I owe him?

I was the one bleeding. I was always the one bleeding.

Jonah was a scholarship student Elenas family foundation supported. For years, I couldn't understand why the entire world seemed to bend to his will, why logic dissolved whenever he was in the room.

Then I realized the truth. I was a character in a book. A "sacrificial husband" archetype in a dark romance novel.

The plot demanded I suffer. Only through my destruction could Elena and her true love, Jonah, achieve their twisted happy ending.

Halfway through the night, a single phone call from Jonah summoned Elena away. She didn't hesitate.

The next day, I discharged myself.

I pulled into the driveway of our estate, stitches pulling tight, only to find Jonah standing on the front porch. He was holding a bouquet of white chrysanthemumsflowers for the dead.

"Gavin," he smiled, a sickly sweet expression. "Thanks for the skin. It fits perfectly."

He waved his right arm. I walked past him, too exhausted to engage.

Suddenly, a shriek tore through the air.

Elena rushed out of the house, my parents close behind her. They found Jonah sprawled on the pavement, clutching his arm. Blood was seeping through his bandages.

He bit his lip, offering Elena a brave, teary smile. "I... I tripped. It's my fault. The wound opened up. It has nothing to do with Gavin."

"Gavin!" Elena screamed, turning on me like a viper. "How can you be so vindictive?"

"Don't blame him," Jonah whimpered, shrinking back as if terrified of me.

"You don't need to protect him," Elena cooed, cradling his injured arm.

My mother stepped forward, her face a mask of disappointment. "Gavin. When are you going to learn?"

I looked at them. I offered no defense. I knew the script. Anything I said would be twisted into an admission of guilt.

My father grabbed me by the collar. He dragged me to the "Quiet Room"a soundproofed space in the basement they claimed was for my rehabilitation. It was built to "correct" my jealousy.

When the electricity hit me, I heard my teeth chatter. It was a mechanical sound, like dice rattling in a cup. My jaw clamped shut so hard I thought the bone would snap.

The cattle prod dug into my side. Muscles seized. Heat flooded my lap.

I had lost control of my bladder. The humiliating warmth soaked my trousers, the scent of urine mixing with the damp, moldy air of the basement.

Jonah stood in the doorway, hand covering his nose, eyes dancing with amusement.

"Gavin peed himself," he said, his voice dripping with faux concern. "Maybe stop? He needs a change of clothes."

Elena lowered the prod, looking at the puddle with sheer disgust. "Apologize to Jonah. Now. Have you no dignity?"

"Still playing dead?" My father sneered. "Look at Jonah! You frame him, you hurt him, and he still defends you. Do you have any remorse inside that sick head of yours?"

He kicked me in the ribs. I didn't flinch. I felt something cracka rib, maybe puncturing the spleen.

"Mom, Dad, Elena... please," Jonah said softly. "Stop. Gavin is just... he cares about Elena too much. That's why he hates me. I'll move out tomorrow. I don't want to break up this family."

It was always the same routine. When I was half-dead, he would call for mercy. When I was locked in the freezer, he would "sneak" me food. When Elena ignored me, he would "accidentally" remind her of my past failures.

And every time, I was beaten harder for being ungrateful.

My mother stormed over, her manicured finger jabbing the air inches from my face. "He's still defending you! Gavin, is your heart made of stone?"

"We've told you a thousand times," she whispered, her voice trembling with fatigue. "Jonah is a guest. A charity case. Why can't you just get along?"

I looked at her. Before today, I loved her. I loved them all. I used to tell myself they were just puppets controlled by a sadistic author.

When Jonah claimed I pushed him into the pool and Elena locked me in the industrial freezer, resulting in severe frostbite and surgery to remove part of my intestine, I didn't blame her.

But the cycle never ended. Jonah escalated. I defended myself. They ignored the truth.

I watched Elena dial up the voltage on the stun baton, her eyes colder with every shock.

Jonah reached for Elenas hand, then pulled back as if remembering his place. His eyes welled up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have accepted the scholarship. I'll leave..."

"No!"

My mother screamed. "Jonah, you aren't going anywhere! The only one leaving is this monster!"

I slowly pushed myself up from the concrete floor. My legs were shaking uncontrollably, urine dripping down my pant leg.

Elena looked away. Jonah couldn't hide the smirk in his eyes.

I looked at the corner of the room. There was an old, exposed fuse box from when the house was rewired. The casing was off, copper wires naked and lethal, connected to the old industrial grid.

"Okay," I said. My voice sounded like sandpaper dragged over stone. "My fault."

The room went still.

For the first time in a year, I had admitted guilt.

Relief washed over my parents. Jonah narrowed his eyes. Elena frowned, sensing a shift in the atmosphere.

"I know I was wrong," I continued, swaying as I stood. "I shouldn't have been jealous. I shouldn't have framed him. I shouldn't be alive."

I summoned every ounce of adrenaline left in my broken body and lunged for the fuse box.

"Gavin!" Elena realized it first, panic finally cracking her voice.

Too late.

My hand closed around the rusted lever.

I looked back at them one last time.

Elenas eyes were wide. For the first time, she wasn't looking through me; she was looking at meat the filth, the blood, the ruin she had made.

I yanked the lever down.

ZZZT!

The short circuit was immediate. Sparks showered onto a pile of old drop cloths nearby. The fire moved like a living thing, a hungry snake coiling up my arm, consuming me.

The smell of burning meat overpowered the smell of urine.

"Ah!" My mothers scream pierced the air.

"Help him! Do something!" My father roared, but his feet were nailed to the floor.

My skin was melting. Fat was rendering. But I held onto the lever. I didn't let go.

As the flames licked my face, I saw Elena.

She stood frozen, trembling, her face as white as paper.

I woke up in a hospital room. Again.

The door opened. Elena walked in first, the click of her heels sharp against the tile. Jonah and my father trailed behind her.

"You're awake? The doctor said you can speak."

Elena looked at meswathed in bandages like a mummywith pure annoyance.

I didn't answer. I just watched the ceiling.

My father walked to the bedside, his tone softer than usual, but still carrying that lecture-hall cadence. "We've decided not to punish you for this stunt. Just recover."

"Don't be stupid again."

Elena chimed in. "As long as you behave and get along with Jonah, we can go back to how things were."

I forced air through my ravaged throat. "Okay."

Elena looked startled. She searched my eyes for the usual defiance.

She glanced at Jonah.

Taking the cue, Jonah leaned in and placed a hand on Elenas chestintimate, possessive, yet disguised as comfort.

Elena didn't flinch. She let him touch her, her eyes locked on mine, daring me to react.

In the past, I would have broken his nose.

This time, I turned my head away.

"Gavin," Jonah said, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. "Let's start over. No more fighting."

He wanted me to snap. I gave him nothing.

Elenas patience evaporated. "What is this attitude? Jonah is talking to you. Are you mute now?"

I turned my head back stiffly. The movement tore at the scabs on my neck.

Blood seeped through the gauze.

I bit down on my tongue. Hard.

I clamped my jaw until I felt the muscle sever. I spat the piece of flesh onto the pristine white sheet in front of Elena.

Elena screamed, stumbling back in horror.

I closed my eyes.

"The patient is unstable. No more agitation."

I was wheeled out of surgery. They had reattached my tongue.

My parents rushed in. My mother grabbed Elenas shoulders. "Why is he in the ICU? What happened?"

Elena looked at me, the words caught in her throat.

"It's my fault," Jonah sobbed, wiping tears from his cheeks. "I said something wrong. I upset Gavin, and he... he hurt himself to punish me."

"I should just leave." He turned to go.

Elena grabbed his wrist. "He's just petty. It has nothing to do with you."

"Gavin," she hissed at my unconscious form. "I thought you changed. But you just learned new tricks. The pity card? Really?"

I stared at her, awake now, unable to smile.

"Elena, he almost died," my mother whispered, teary-eyed. "He wouldn't go that far just to frame Jonah."

"Mom, this isn't the first time!" Elena shouted. "Remember the glass in his water? He hates Jonah!"

My mother hesitated. Jonah seized the moment, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the bandages from the skin graft.

"Don't yell at Elena, Mrs. Landers. I'll apologize to Gavin."

Jonah dropped to his knees by my bed.

My mother and Elena immediately rushed to pull him up.

"Gavin," my father sighed, heavy with disappointment. "Why do you hate him so much? Why destroy yourself just to hurt him?"

I lay there, numb. I just wanted to die.

I didn't want to spend another second in this wretched world.

"I had the kitchen make some soup. Your favorite."

Elena walked in with a thermos. She had been coming every day, playing the role of the dutiful wife.

Her eyes were calm, her voice soft. For a second, it felt like the old days, before Jonah.

She cranked the bed up and sat beside me.

"Jonah made this stock for you. Look how much he cares."

"Why can't you just let go of the prejudice?"

The spoon pressed against my lips. Steam hit my face.

I smelled the ocean. Clams.

Elena kept talking about Jonahs kindness, preaching forgiveness.

She seemed to have forgotten that I was deathly allergic to shellfish.

I didn't refuse. I opened my mouth.

Elena smiled, relieved.

She fed me, spoonful by spoonful. I felt my throat tighten, my blood vessels dilate.

By the time Elena realized I was turning blue, I could no longer breathe.

I woke up to blinding white light.

Voices argued in the distance.

"Elena, I'm so sorry! I forgot Gavin was allergic to seafood!"

"I just wanted to make him something rich, to help him heal... I didn't mean to..."

"It was an accident, Jonah. Don't blame yourself. I should have reminded you."

"Stop crying, Jonah."

A few minutes later, Jonah pushed the door open. Elena and my parents followed.

"Gavin, I'm so sorry."

His eyes were red, his voice thick with tears. He cried so hard youd think I had beaten him.

I didn't react.

"Gavin," Elena sighed, impatient. "It was a mistake. He apologized. Just forgive him."

I opened my eyes heavily. It was comical.

Jonah almost killed me, and a simple "oops" was enough.

Yet when I once swore at Jonah, they forced me to drink acid because I "needed discipline."

My throat burned. I was curled in agony. But they couldn't see it. They swarmed around Jonah, comforting him.

I rolled my eyes toward him. Every bone in my body ached.

Jonah leaned in close, whispering so only I could hear.

"Gavin, you're like a cockroach. You just won't die."

Looking at his smug face, I summoned the last of my strength and slapped him.

It was weak, but it connected.

Jonah clutched his face. "If hitting me makes you feel better, Gavin... go ahead."

He leaned his face forward.

The next second, my father rushed forward and yanked me off the bed.

My healing skin tore open.

"You have the energy to hit people? You're definitely faking it."

I didn't fight. He dragged me across the floor, leaving a streak of blood.

He dragged me to the janitor's sink in the hallway. He turned on the faucet, grabbed the hose, and aimed it at my face.

Ice-cold water blasted into my nose and mouth. I gagged, choking as water filled my lungs.

"Still acting? Still framing Jonah?"

"I raised a monster!"

I coughed, unable to speak.

Elena stood there, watching. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face, but she didn't move.

Finally, he pulled me out of the sink.

"Did you learn your lesson?"

I looked at him. And I smiled.

Bloody water dripped from the corners of my mouth.

His eyes went cold. "Unrepentant."

He shoved my head back into the bloody water. I didn't struggle.

The cold liquid filled me. My body temperature plummeted.

This vessel was done.

Ding

[Misery Index: 100/100]

[Host is cleared for extraction. Initiating Protocol: Hundredfold Reflection.]