David forced himself to think of the good times....he concentrated on his childhood and sought out the pleasant times...As the emptiness ate at his mind, pain tore through those memories. It was not a physical pain, as the beatings had been, but something deeper, somethign more intimate and personal. It was in his mind, the only thing left to him in that empty void, and it was tearing at those memories, trying to tear them away.
(Rsp)
The pulling and the pain grew stronger, as something (someone? It was hard to tell through the searing agony) was trying to tear at his very personality. He had heard of mind rippers; telepaths who stole a person's memories and personalities, shredding them in the process and leaving the person virtually a vegetable, looking out from eyes that remembered nothing and could learn nothing, to never remember one's family, friends, home and to spend their life in a mental facility being fed by staff in white coats who made sure to clean up the drool.
(Rsp)
It was agony, more intense than the beatings could ever have been, claws as sharp as razors tearing at his mind, trying to steal whatever it was they were looking for. And unlike the beatings, there was no blessed escape through unconsciousness. It was like a thousand burning knives coursing stabbing him over and over, while a raging inferno engulfed him.
(Rsp)
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