Loose Ends.

Chapter 1.

"Daki–" A loud call erupted from a man who kicked at the metal bars of my cell, "You sleep without permission?" His voice chuckled and my eyes fluttered open.

I was dreaming again.

Ever since I was taken prisoner, daydreaming and sleeping were the only ways I could escape reality.

A shaky breath left my mouth as I slowly sat up from the wet floor. I knew that if I didn't respond quickly, they would force a response out of me.

"Ana asyfa–" I apologized in Arabic.

I lost count of how long I've been their prisoner. Long enough to pick up on their language… long enough to know exactly who was speaking to me even though they always wore masks.

When I had bumped into one of their men during the Research Facility raid, for some reason, they decided to keep me.

I wished so badly to have been killed that day with the rest of my friends.

Only a couple of their soldiers could speak english. The ones that did were hard to understand. But what I could interpret, was that I was taken so I could continue my research, only this time it was for them.

I wish I could say it took me a long time before I submitted to them, but it didn't.

They made it clear that the waterboarding and the beatings would only stop once I agreed to make whatever it was they wanted.

And for the first couple of weeks, nothing they did could make me work for them.

I held strong because I had faith that someone would come for me. I wouldn't build them weapons to use against the people who wanted to rescue me.

It became apart of my torture to listen in on United States News or military comms. They would taunt me with it, because there was never anything said about the attack on, or retribution for, the Al-Halaqk facility. I didn't understand why my family never said anything…or why they never sent one of their hundreds of special forces groups to retrieve me. Perhaps my capturers only chose to show me irrelevant information. Maybe they were launching private investigations…maybe.

I was loyal to my government. I had faith that they would come, because they gave me no reason to think otherwise. I refused to believe that an entire United States facility being burnt to the ground would go unnoticed or unpunished.

But, the mental warfare they played by filling my head with the lack of interest in saving me eventually worked.

Around the fourth month of repeated "convincing", I gave in. I stopped trying to be a martyr. Because, for all I knew, my family already considered me dead.

I've seen how quickly the government could work… if they had any intention of coming for me, they would have done it by now.

It was clear to me that I was never viewed as a valuable asset after all, just an expendable tool. But, unfortunately for them, this tool was now in the hands of their enemy.

I looked up and saw two masked men watching me from beyond the bars of my cell. They were smart enough to wear masks. I never forgot a face.

"Lucky you– you chose to start working." One of them said while the other opened the cell door.

The slow creaking of the gate sent shivers down my spine. I started to breathe heavier, and my wrists trembled beneath the shackles. My body associated the sound of that creaking gate with horrible things. I could feel the adrenaline surging through my body.

They both entered and walked up to me. I avoided eye contact, keeping my head angled down at the cold, stone ground. I could see their large boots come into view as they stepped closer.