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"All you have to do," A cloying voice says, "Is comply."
Cecil slumps in the chair hy's been bound to. Hys head dips down to hys chest but hy can't find the energy to lift it. Breaths rasp through hys throat, and they feel wrong as they do.
Strexcorp already took hys voice, hys city, hys life—only metaphorically, on that end—Cecil was not sure how much more hy was willing to let them take. Hy shakes hys head, 'No' hy mouths.
There's a hand in hys hair—grown long and scruffy. It pulls, hard. Cecil's head is forced back and hy is once more made to meet his aggressor's eyes. "No?" They ask, words curling in upsetting ways. "That's okay." Hys hair is dropped once more.
Cecil shuts hys eyes, shielding hys retinas from the bright overhead fluorescents, even if only for a moment. Hy's prepared this time for the pain that follows their words.