The Anthem of the Castaway

Pain and More Pain

I'm half conscious when they come in, and everything is blurry. I try to focus my eyes on them, but the only thing I see is the 8 inch long needle that they approach me with.

I barely flinch and they pierce my abdomen with the needle, and I'm aware of the needle stabbing its way through my organs. I close my eyes and lay there, subdued but not totally defeated. Maybe since I can't heal the baby won't grow. Or would a cruel twist of fate bring a child into my life once again?

It's not long before they leave, and I'm left to concentrate on the burning in my blood stream and the dull ache in my abdomen.

'Why do I have to do this?' I pray to Father.

'Because you're the one who can. I believe in you.' He replies. Instead of feeling enlightened, a wave of anger washes over me.

'What if I can't? Are you going to hate me?'

'I can never hate you. It tears me apart to see you hurting.' He responds. My head starts pounding with a headache so I don't reply to Him. It tears him apart, but here I am, under his command.

'What is my purpose here?' I ask when my headache clears for a moment.

'You're going to keep fighting, then when I tell you, act like they broke you. They need to get careless. I'm watching.' He tells me, the long message causing a stabbing pain in my brain. I don't respond, instead I think about how I will fight. I know he wants me to stay alive, but how do I fight without overwhelming my fragile health?

It hits me that maybe I should react to pain and show them it hurts. But is it pain they want to see?

My thoughts are interrupted when my original captor comes into the room bearing a set of cuffs. He silently works to take the binds off my wrists and legs, allowing me freedom for a split second before he forces me upright and yanks my arms behind my back.

"If you don't fight we will discuss the possibility of this being your last child." He tells me.

"We both know that's a lie. Don't give me that shit." I tell him, meeting his awful gaze.

"Wouldn't it be better to find out if I'm honest?" He counters.

"Maybe. You're lying though." I respond matter of factly, walking with him as he directs us toward the door. Every footstep causes a shock of pain to go up my spine and to my fingertips and toes, but I hide it.

About halfway down the hall I stop and lean against the wall. I cough a few times, spitting up blood onto the floor. My legs shake under me and it takes every ounce of energy not to crumble.

"Keep moving." He says, prodding my back with his fingers, which sends what feels like an electric shock through my body. I oblige quietly and continue walking with him.

'More.' I hear in my head, words from Father. I stop for another moment and cough up another wad of blood.

"Come on." The man says, pressing more gently on my back this time. I take another few steps and cough again, even though I truly don't need to. Father is right, I'm gaining the pity of this man. This time instead of a poke in the back he puts his hand on my lower back and presses, telling me to go once again. Once again, I oblige.

It's only a few more steps until we reach a new door, this one with glass walls facing the entire prison.

We walk in the door, and immediately after the door shuts behind us, he unlocks the cuffs on my wrists, his hands back to being rough and ruthless.

"Stand against that wall." He says roughly. I lean against the wall as he asks, ignoring the fact that my entire body screams in pain. He locks new cuffs onto my wrists, each attached to a chain that runs above my head and out of sight. Next he locks the cuffs around my ankles, pinning my feet to the wall. He hits a switch on the wall and my hands are pulled firmly above my head before it stops.