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every saint has a past, every sinner has a future
He had lost track of time. How long had he been there--days? Weeks? Months? It all blurred together, time marked only what he began to see as nights--the periods when he was left in the small windowless room, given scraps of food and water, and was allowed to attempt sleep--and days-- the times when they took him and tried to get him to talk.
It was funny, really, in a way. Why capture the mute to interrogate? But he knew they expected him to divulge information somehow, and he also knew the ploy was more likely to get the Agency to negotiate with them. He wondered if they were recording any of it. He couldn't tell. His scope of vision was narrow here, focused only on his interrogaters--hidden by bright lights or darkness--and the pain they inflicted. They had told him he wouldn't truly know the meaning of pain until they were done with him, and he had to agree. They were extremely creative. Every day was a new experience, a new torture, exquisite in its intricacies.
But still he was alive. Perhaps that was their great genius, that they could do so much and keep him in the land of the living. He had considered the possibility of dying, but he dismissed it every time. He didn't have time for it. Not today. Not tomorrow. He had people waiting for him. One in particular. He refused to be killed by cowards who would not even show their faces.
He wasn't even sure what questions they were asking anymore, or even if they were asking questions at all. He was trying to exist only in that seperate place the Agency had trained him to go when under torture. It worked, at first, but then they had gotten creative and he was back in the present, feeling everything acutely. And when he thought he could be numb from it all, they let him rest, to come back fresh for the next time.
He existed only in a state of half-consciousness most of the time, and all that was real was the pain and his own thoughts, growing increasingly more scattered, increasingly more dull and disconnected. They wandered around in circles, and he lost track of which thoughts he had considered before and which were new.
He wondered how much longer he could last.
He wondered how many times he had wondered that before.
It was funny, really, in a way. Why capture the mute to interrogate? But he knew they expected him to divulge information somehow, and he also knew the ploy was more likely to get the Agency to negotiate with them. He wondered if they were recording any of it. He couldn't tell. His scope of vision was narrow here, focused only on his interrogaters--hidden by bright lights or darkness--and the pain they inflicted. They had told him he wouldn't truly know the meaning of pain until they were done with him, and he had to agree. They were extremely creative. Every day was a new experience, a new torture, exquisite in its intricacies.
But still he was alive. Perhaps that was their great genius, that they could do so much and keep him in the land of the living. He had considered the possibility of dying, but he dismissed it every time. He didn't have time for it. Not today. Not tomorrow. He had people waiting for him. One in particular. He refused to be killed by cowards who would not even show their faces.
He wasn't even sure what questions they were asking anymore, or even if they were asking questions at all. He was trying to exist only in that seperate place the Agency had trained him to go when under torture. It worked, at first, but then they had gotten creative and he was back in the present, feeling everything acutely. And when he thought he could be numb from it all, they let him rest, to come back fresh for the next time.
He existed only in a state of half-consciousness most of the time, and all that was real was the pain and his own thoughts, growing increasingly more scattered, increasingly more dull and disconnected. They wandered around in circles, and he lost track of which thoughts he had considered before and which were new.
He wondered how much longer he could last.
He wondered how many times he had wondered that before.