He felt the same thing being wrapped around his right arm and gasped when it was pulled snugly over the exact spot of the scorpion sting on his wrist. In spite of being only semi-aware of what was going on, Joe instinctively knew what was going to happen next and tried to brace himself. However exhaustion, shock and the throbbing pain that had consumed every part of his body all conspired against him. He let out an agonized cry as the same smooth, cold, wet something was wrapped around the burns and blisters on his left arm and pulled snugly against the fence.

‘I can’t take anymore. I can’t. Frank, where the hell are you?!’ Joe thought numbly as he fought to hold back the tears. As much as he wanted to give up so he could escape the unending pain, he still did not want Rashman to see him break down.

"Are you ready to tell us what you did with the envelope?" Rashman’s voice echoed in his ears.

Thoughts of Vanessa suddenly floated through his mind, giving Joe that tiny bit of resolve he needed.

‘You can do this.’ Joe told himself. ‘Just take it one minute at a time. One second at a time. Don’t let them win.’

Joe didn’t even open his eyes to look at the man; he simply shook his head no. He heard a sigh and then a grunt, as if Rashman were straining to lift something. Opening his eyes just a crack, Joe saw the bucket just seconds before he was drenched with cold water for the third time. Unbelievably he had seen the water coming in time and was able to hold his breath, depriving Rashman of the pleasure of seeing him choke on it.

‘One for the good guys.’ Joe thought clinging to his small victory and wondered if he were becoming delirious.

"The new necklace and bracelets you’re wearing are made of leather." Rashman told Joe. "They spent the night sitting in that bucket of water you’re now wearing. Luckily, it’s a gorgeous day, not a cloud in the sky. Over the next few hours, the leather will gradually dry from the heat of the sun."

Joe heard Rashman take a few steps and then felt the man’s warm breath on his neck as he leaned in to whisper in Joe’s ear. "When leather dries…it shrinks." Rashman finished with a chuckle. "Whenever you’re ready to tell us what you did with the envelope, just holler – if you can."

As he heard Rashman’s retreating footsteps, Joe felt his newfound resolve quickly slipping away.

‘No, Vanessa, don’t leave me! I need you to get me through this.’ Joe begged silently, as crazy thoughts that she might actually be able to hear him ran through his head. ‘Please, stay with me…’

The hours slowly passed and the sun rose higher in the sky as morning made it’s way into early afternoon. Joe could feel the heat of the sun beating down on him knowing, under any other circumstances, he would be enjoying its warmth. Just as Rashman had predicted, the leather straps that encircled Joe’s arms and neck gradually became tighter and tighter as they dried. He found that if he didn’t move his head at all, took only short, shallow breaths and swallowed very gingerly, he could breathe. Still he could feel the rough edges of the leather digging in to the tender flesh of his neck.

Ironically, Joe realized the abuse he’d endured and its resulting injuries were actually helping him to cope with Rashman’s latest torture – at least partially. Having had nothing to eat or drink for close to twenty-four hours, Joe didn’t have the energy to move his head even if he wanted to. He knew he had a couple of broken ribs and possibly a punctured lung, given the searing pain he felt when he tried to breathe and the mouthfuls of blood he had been coughing up. Small gulps of air had been all he could manage without excruciating pain even before he had been adorned with the leather choker.

Joe did find it was much more difficult to disregard the now unbearably tight straps around his wrists, particularly the left one. It had been impossible to ignore from the moment Rashman had put it on and pulled it tight. More than once over the past few hours, the pressure on the burns Joe had sustained was so bad he couldn’t help but shed a few tears.

Joe had hoped he might lapse back into the semi-conscious state he’d been in earlier until the first time he actually did. As his head lolled forward, the leather strap encircling his neck had cut off his air supply completely. When he was jolted awake, unable to breathe, he jerked his head upright. Taking in a lungful of air sent him into a fit of coughing which ignited the sharp, searing pain in his chest and ribs. When Joe saw Rashman smiling at him, enjoying the results of his latest torture, he vowed not to let it happen again.

More and more Joe clung to thoughts of Vanessa to help him get through the minutes that slowly dragged by. He tried to recall, in as much detail as possible, the weekend he’d taken her to New York City for her birthday. The five star hotel he had splurged on – saving up for months beforehand. The Broadway play they had attended – one Vanessa had been longing to see for months. The nightclubs where they danced the night away. The romantic candlelit dinners. And on their final night, the magical carriage ride through Central Park, which had a fresh blanket of snow.

Joe managed a weak smile as he thought about the moment he asked Vanessa to marry him. When she didn’t answer right away, Joe thought he had made a huge mistake. He got the impression she was contemplating whether or not to accept, although he now knew his proposal had left her speechless, something Joe knew they would joke about well into their old age. That single thought brought an abrupt end to Joe’s reminiscence, as he wondered if he would even make it to his twenty-fourth birthday, let alone old age.

Hearing footsteps, Joe looked up and saw Rashman approach. "Ready to talk?" He asked.

"If I …tell you…" Joe stopped, the tight leather around his neck making it almost impossible to speak and still breathe. "...you’ll kill me…right away?" It sounded almost like a request more than a question.

"Yes."

Joe couldn’t believe he was actually contemplating telling Rashman what he had done with the envelope if it would end his misery. It had finally dawned on Joe that his injuries were so severe he might not survive even if he were rescued. Why not end his suffering now? Joe tried to calculate how long it would have taken Frank to get to Chicago once he got the message Joe left. Surely Frank had found the envelope by now and alerted the authorities that Senator Hurley was in danger?

Just as Joe was about to speak, something stopped him. He wasn’t sure if it was the look in Rashman’s eyes, the ever-present thoughts of Vanessa that had been his source of strength or Frank’s voice that echoed in the back of his mind.

‘Please don’t let me down, Frank. I’m counting on you.’ Joe thought as he resolved to hold on a little longer.

"Well…" Rashman prompted him.

"No." Joe replied.

Rashman shook his head. "I don’t know if you’re the toughest person I’ve ever faced or just plain stupid. Is some senator you don’t even know worth all this?" He waited a moment for Joe to respond and was met with the now familiar silent glare from his captive.

Suddenly Rashman’s head disappeared from sight as he crouched down in front of Joe. The leather strap around Joe’s neck made it impossible for him to look down and see what was happening, igniting a small panic inside him. Without warning, his right foot exploded in pain where it had been slashed with a knife the night before. Joe let out an involuntary yelp, trying to pull his foot away from Rashman who held it tightly in his hands. He gasped as he felt Rashman tugging on his foot, reopening the laceration that had closed up somewhat during the night. Rashmans voice floated up to him from below.

"This is what’s referred to as pouring salt in the wound."

The meaning of his words hit Joe at the exact moment the salt hit the once again bleeding gash on his foot. Gasping, hissing and grasping the chains tightly with his hands, Joe did everything possible to keep from crying out, knowing that was exactly what Rashman wanted.

The tears burned in his eyes, squeezed shut in pain.

"You know how I hate it when you don’t respond appropriately." Rashman said, standing up and towering over Joe.

The tall man watched somewhat placated as he saw how difficult it was for Joe not to verbalize the agony he was in. A few moments later, as the burning in his foot subsided a little, Joe was able to remain still for the most part, although his breathing was now quite labored.

Rashman found his patience starting to wear thin. No one had ever been able to endure this much without breaking and he was becoming increasingly frustrated by Joe’s continued silence.

Joe stared at Rashman and thought he saw something change in the man’s eyes. He felt a chill, this one from pure fear, when he realized Rashman was staring at him with malice and hatred. Somehow Joe knew he had crossed a line with his ability to remain silent, despite the escalating abuse. As far as Rashman was concerned, getting Joe to cry out in agony, beg for the torture to stop and reveal what he had done with the envelope was no longer just another assignment – now it was personal.

Rashman leaned forward until his face was just inches from Joe’s. His eyes blazed with anger.

"I will break you, Hardy. If it’s the last thing I do."

Straightening up, he poured the remaining salt over the burns and blisters on Joe’s left arm. When Joe responded with nothing more than a loud gasp and a tug on the chain, Rashman placed his hand on Joe’s arm. Pressing down as hard as he could, he began to rub the salt into Joe’s arm in small, slow, methodical circles. Within seconds Rashman was rewarded with the sound he had wanted to hear all along…