Under normal circumstances, I had no problem speaking my mind, however, with a gun pointed at my temple, I found it slightly more difficult.
"I'll ask you one more time," a masculine voice gruffly shouted from somewhere behind the gleaming metal hole being pressed against my forehead. "What use are you to the rebels?"
My mouth was like a sealed bank vault. Words couldn't weave together into sentences in my mind, just to spout out pathetic pleas on my lips. I wouldn't. Not ever, because it wasn't just the idea of giving up top secret information on the only people that cared about me that bothered me.
It was that I refused to lose my dignity in fear-induced responses, and piteously released answers.
I could see the guard's finger twitching, just itching to pull the minuscule trigger that could lead to such monumental destruction. Do it, I mentally dared him. Just do it and see where you end up.
Because I knew the consequences of pulling that trigger. I'd experienced it, have been experiencing it, ever since I was so young and the world seemed so big and the very idea that I could be unique or different from everyone else seemed completely out of the question.
His finger twitched.
I didn't even flinch as the guard dropped.
Like what should've happened to me.
But that's the funny thing: they couldn't hurt me if they tried. The only damage they could do would be purely self-harm.
A quite literal example of hitting back just as hard.
Commotion erupted from outside the room, the live feed from the camera's black eyes being shown right outside the door. In seconds the room would be flooded with government agents, guards, and everyone else hired to do all the dirty work the higher up officials were too worried about getting their hands messy with.
Legs tied. Arms tied. I took in my surroundings quickly, my mind working out possible escape routes. All results of my intense training under the rebellion. Nothing else tied.
Usually, you can tell just how arrogant a captor is purely based on his knots and tying skills.
Fortunately, my captor seemed to have a larger than average ego.
It took a couple seconds for me to rip my hands out of the messily and lazily tied knots. My feet took only a second or so shorter, and then I was free. Almost.
The door burst open like a dam waiting to release the pressure of gallons of water. Guards spiraled in, one after another, guns raised stiffly, barrels all pointed directly at the same target. The door was blocked by their army-clad bodies, not even an opening peeking through to welcome me into its arms.
To most other people, the situation would seem hopeless. Not even the strongest person in the world would have the ability to boulder through those guards without being shot. The trick is, that sometimes intelligence is more powerful than strength.
My legs carried me lightly towards the door, as though I was just casually strolling through a mall. I could see how much the guards wanted to shoot, wanted to watch me freeze in fear as I realized how inferior I was to their control over me.
But they couldn't. They knew the consequences. They couldn't stop me.
I began walking out the door, the guards even moving out of the way when I came to it. Of course, the actions were reluctant, and forced, since jostling me would only end up hurting themselves, leading to even more issues. A part of me almost felt bad for them. All of them utterly trapped in such a compromising situation, where they had no choice, but to stand down, since every other option was not feasible.
My steps echoed loudly down the tiled corridor outside of the room I'd been held in. Slap. Slap. Slap. Bare feet pressed firmly into rock floor. The cool tile against my calloused soles and toes, already worn down from months of fighting and running, making each step feel like walking on top of a heavenly lake of cold water.
Only a right turn....then the exit.....
....Then I could escape.
Already I pictured my family, not blood related, but related through heart and soul, and understanding of each other.
Only a couple meters.....
...A couple feet.......
Metallic, merciless boots.
Dark eyes, hard as igneous rock, staring deeply into my own pupils, staring....stopping. I was stuck, trapped, unable to move. I wanted to scream, how, how, how.
But I knew.
He was unique.
He was like me, a flowering species, waiting to erupt with a superior race.
"Well," the leading official drawled, his telekinetic hold as hard as stone.
"It looks like we've found the spark of the rebellion."