It had been a month since they'd been arrested, a month since Justin had seen any glimpse of Lissa. One long, torturous month--and a day, he thought as he marked one more tally on the stone--stuck in this gloomy place. Justin had lost weight--not that he had had much to lose to begin with. More worrying was the fact his muscle tone had started to fade. He didn't want to know what he looked like in a mirror. He hadn't been afforded that luxury. For that, he was quite thankful. Perhaps it was also some strange, twisted blessing that Lissa hadn't seen him to his knowledge. Who knew what duplicitous things they were doing all in the name of torture, all in the name of getting information and names out of him for his alleged affiliation with the illegal anti-slavery group, SAVIOR.
Justin snorted despite himself. If they only knew they were asking him about the wrong group, maybe the fact the Veritaserum "wasn't working" after a month of torture to wear him down would click and they would understand he was telling the truth. He had told them as much on many occasions.
"Because I'm telling the blooming truth. Ask me the right questions, and maybe you'll get somewhere, douchebag."
Justin shuddered and pulled his knees up to his body at the memories that flooded into his mind at the thought of that. They had covered his face and poured water over him for what seemed like days after that, but that hadn't been the worst of it. Neither had the sleep deprivation, the lack of food, or the sensory deprivation with dementors hanging about.
Justin swallowed, wondering how Lissa was faring. She had only just begun gaining the weight back that she had lost as a slave. She had only just begun getting better. Were they subjecting her to this same mess? Was she still alive? Was she dead? The things they had done to him.... What had they done to her? He didn't want to know or ask, but the thought made him sick to his stomach.
Suddenly, Justin stood and walked to the bars. "Let me see her!" he screamed, though it hardly sounded as loud as he would like. His voice had gone somewhere in the process. "Let me see her, damn it!" he sobbed.
"Quit yer whining!" The voice was unmistakably Sark's.
Justin cowered, backing up quickly to the back corner of his cell and squatting, pulling his knees in and putting his arms up as though that would protect him from any spell or blow the man decided to throw at him. After a few moments, Justin realized the stall had opened, and Sark had not stepped inside. He hadn't moved either, and he hadn't harmed him.
Justin dared to lower his arm slightly, looking up at Sark with confusion.
"The boss wants you out. Says yer not eatin' enough. Says we're never gonna get something without giving something. Get'up!"
Justin scrambled up, knowing better than to stay still when told to stand. The more he complied, maybe the more he'd get.
"You look like hell," Sark said as he used a modified spell to put shackles on Justin.
No retort came from Justin nor did one even come to mind. There was no point to it. Being himself would only get him more pain in his experience. Granted, being silent and subjective didn't typically get you treated much better.
"Well, out of the cell with you," Sark said. "I 'aven't got all day."
Justin stumbled toward Sark and followed him. He wasn't sure what "out" meant, and it scared him. But out ended up meaning the corner of what appeared to be a mess hall. "Sit. Your food will appear shortly."
Justin did as told, watching as Sark walked away to take up a post and feeling utterly perplexed.