Damon laughed and took a drink. An odd smile crossed his lips, although it didn't stay. "Oh, Stefan. This is a journey into the psyche, or whatever bullshit the psychologist would say." He rolled his eyes a little. "In 1953, I was in Mystic Falls, and Joseph sold me out. I told you about that. I left you about a year before. Anyway, I found myself in a cell in the basement at Whitmore college, run by the Augustine Society. They did experiments on vampires. They said it was in the name of science."
Damon's attitude turned serious. It couldn't not be. "I was a lab rat, but they weren't studying our abilities. We could heal. I was cut open, left to heal, then cut again. They poked my eyes, took pieces of them, took pieces of organs, took everything. We were humiliated over and over again, and given a small cup of blood a day, just so we could survive for the next round on the table."
That put Damon back there for a minute. He remembered the screams. His and Enzo's. The screams of his friend, now his lover, were a lot worse than his own. He took a drink to mask the look that crossed through his eyes. "That's not even the worst part of the story, and it was five years of my life. I waited for you. I hoped you would come. You'd strap on the hero hair and get us out."