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"…Okay, so you distract her and I'll go in…" Mariah whispered, outlining her plan to Brooks.
"How do I distract her?" Brooks hissed as they turned a corner.
"I dunno! Just-" Mariah stopped dead. Brooks looked up, too – face-to-face with the person he least wanted to see.
"Sylvia," he breathed, unable to move.
For a heartbeat, they just stood, staring at each other. Then, with a speed that astounded Brooks, Sylvia raised her wand and shouted, "Containum Quantum!"
There was a burst of light and a crack like a gunshot. Mariah fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
"Mariah!" Brooks screamed. He dropped to his knees and shook Mariah's limp body. "Mariah!" He looked up at Sylvia, grief and anger contorting his face. "What have you done to her?" he yelled.
Sylvia smiled cruelly, lifting the corners of perfect red lips. "Oh, she is simply – indisposed," she said softly. "As you will be." She lifted her wand and pointed it at Brooks, speaking words that were lost in the rush of air that enveloped him. He felt himself pulled backward and everything went black.

Brooks felt as if he was being stretched, folded over, and twisted beyond all endurance. He opened his mouth to scream and found that there was no air to breathe. Just when he felt himself losing consciousness, Brooks was standing on solid ground. He immediately fell to his knees, partly because he had hit his head on a hard metal surface, partly because he felt like he was going to throw up. Choking and gasping for air, he stumbled blindly sideways and hit a wall. He slumped gratefully against it, still trying to get oxygen into his starved lungs.
Once his breathing had slowed, Brooks scanned frantically for Mariah. "Mariah!" he called, voice panicky. "MARIAH!"
Realizing that there was no one around, Brooks curled up and let loose the tears that had been threatening to come. When they finally ran dry, he sat up and sniffed, rubbing a hand across his eyes. He took stock of his surroundings, as Mariah would want him to do. The thought of her made his eyes hot, but he had no more tears.
He was in what looked like a small cage, just long enough so that he could stretch out fully with his arms by his side. The top was so low that Brooks had to stay slumped over while he was sitting. If he sat up straight, he would crack his head.
Three sides were standard vertical bars. The fourth side was made of stone and appeared to be part of a long wall, so the cell Brooks was in looked like a cage set into a wall. The floor was solid metal, like the top, and some moldy straw was scattered across it. Brooks sighed and leaned against the stone wall. This cage looked hard to break out of.
Wait…Brooks inspected the bars more closely. The space between them looked big enough to stick his arm through. Surely the Crucios wouldn't overlook such an important detail like that! Cautiously, he stretched his arm through the bars.
Pain, sharp and metallic, lanced up his arm. Brooks yelled and jerked his hand back inside the cage. He collapsed, whimpering, cradling his stinging arm.
Soon the pain died away. Brooks slowly unfolded himself and inspected his arm. It looked just as healthy as before: no marks, blemishes, or swollen areas on it. He prodded it carefully and flexed his hand. No pain. It was if it had never happened.
Magic. It had to be. No ordinary pain-causer would leave no trace like that.
Brooks sat up and sighed. He could see no door in the bars of his cage or anywhere else. It bothered him that there didn't seem to be any way to get food as well. But food could just be magicked in, like himself. Right?
Brooks slumped against the wall. Something poked him as he did. His wand! How could he have forgotten? Excitedly, he pulled it out from his back pocket. Now he could escape easily!
Then reason settled in. If the Crucios had spelled the cage to prevent anyone from getting out, then surely they would have placed another spell to keep magic from being used inside. Still, it was worth a try. The Crucios might torture him, but they would want him alive. In great pain, perhaps, but alive. The notion wasn't very reassuring, but it was Brooks' only consolation.
Brooks pointed his wand at himself. "Escape Me," he whispered.
Pain such as he had never felt before filled his body. White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, and molten metal was running through his veins. Brooks heard someone screaming, and thought vaguely that it was himself, but then the pain claimed every particle of his brain.
And it kept coming…the horrible agony continued on and on…never stopping…until Brooks just wanted to end it all…to die…
He felt himself slipping backwards…away from the screaming and the pain…away into velvety darkness…
Brooks' wand fell from his hand as his body went limp.

Description
"…Okay, so you distract her and I'll go in…" Mariah whispered, outlining her plan to Brooks.
"How do I distract her?" Brooks hissed as they turned a corner.
"I dunno! Just-" Mariah stopped dead. Brooks looked up, too – face-to-face with the person he least wanted to see.
"Sylvia," he breathed, unable to move.
For a heartbeat, they just stood, staring at each other. Then, with a speed that astounded Brooks, Sylvia raised her wand and shouted, "Containum Quantum!"
There was a burst of light and a crack like a gunshot. Mariah fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
"Mariah!" Brooks screamed. He dropped to his knees and shook Mariah's limp body. "Mariah!" He looked up at Sylvia, grief and anger contorting his face. "What have you done to her?" he yelled.
Sylvia smiled cruelly, lifting the corners of perfect red lips. "Oh, she is simply – indisposed," she said softly. "As you will be." She lifted her wand and pointed it at Brooks, speaking words that were lost in the rush of air that enveloped him. He felt himself pulled backward and everything went black.

Brooks felt as if he was being stretched, folded over, and twisted beyond all endurance. He opened his mouth to scream and found that there was no air to breathe. Just when he felt himself losing consciousness, Brooks was standing on solid ground. He immediately fell to his knees, partly because he had hit his head on a hard metal surface, partly because he felt like he was going to throw up. Choking and gasping for air, he stumbled blindly sideways and hit a wall. He slumped gratefully against it, still trying to get oxygen into his starved lungs.
Once his breathing had slowed, Brooks scanned frantically for Mariah. "Mariah!" he called, voice panicky. "MARIAH!"
Realizing that there was no one around, Brooks curled up and let loose the tears that had been threatening to come. When they finally ran dry, he sat up and sniffed, rubbing a hand across his eyes. He took stock of his surroundings, as Mariah would want him to do. The thought of her made his eyes hot, but he had no more tears.
He was in what looked like a small cage, just long enough so that he could stretch out fully with his arms by his side. The top was so low that Brooks had to stay slumped over while he was sitting. If he sat up straight, he would crack his head.
Three sides were standard vertical bars. The fourth side was made of stone and appeared to be part of a long wall, so the cell Brooks was in looked like a cage set into a wall. The floor was solid metal, like the top, and some moldy straw was scattered across it. Brooks sighed and leaned against the stone wall. This cage looked hard to break out of.
Wait…Brooks inspected the bars more closely. The space between them looked big enough to stick his arm through. Surely the Crucios wouldn't overlook such an important detail like that! Cautiously, he stretched his arm through the bars.
Pain, sharp and metallic, lanced up his arm. Brooks yelled and jerked his hand back inside the cage. He collapsed, whimpering, cradling his stinging arm.
Soon the pain died away. Brooks slowly unfolded himself and inspected his arm. It looked just as healthy as before: no marks, blemishes, or swollen areas on it. He prodded it carefully and flexed his hand. No pain. It was if it had never happened.
Magic. It had to be. No ordinary pain-causer would leave no trace like that.
Brooks sat up and sighed. He could see no door in the bars of his cage or anywhere else. It bothered him that there didn't seem to be any way to get food as well. But food could just be magicked in, like himself. Right?
Brooks slumped against the wall. Something poked him as he did. His wand! How could he have forgotten? Excitedly, he pulled it out from his back pocket. Now he could escape easily!
Then reason settled in. If the Crucios had spelled the cage to prevent anyone from getting out, then surely they would have placed another spell to keep magic from being used inside. Still, it was worth a try. The Crucios might torture him, but they would want him alive. In great pain, perhaps, but alive. The notion wasn't very reassuring, but it was Brooks' only consolation.
Brooks pointed his wand at himself. "Escape Me," he whispered.
Pain such as he had never felt before filled his body. White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, and molten metal was running through his veins. Brooks heard someone screaming, and thought vaguely that it was himself, but then the pain claimed every particle of his brain.
And it kept coming…the horrible agony continued on and on…never stopping…until Brooks just wanted to end it all…to die…
He felt himself slipping backwards…away from the screaming and the pain…away into velvety darkness…
Brooks' wand fell from his hand as his body went limp.