TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains violence, torture, blood, and strong language.
Kate's POV:
"Let me introduce you to your torturer."
His return has already put me back into an unhinged state of mind. While I had been singing about wanting to run away that perception had only been a tenth of what I am feeling right now. If I ever had some hidden superpower, as they do in movies, this, right now, would be the moment I would break the handcuffs apart and flee. Too bad this isn't a movie. Instead, I can feel the frustration about my inability to change the situation I was in growing inside. A conflict between fear and anger arises inside me. I can't lift my eyes to face the truth about what is going to happen next, even though I already expected it after I saw what is spread across the counter behind me. But mostly I can't show them the weakness that they would see if I looked up. The tear which silently runs down my cheek. I watch with hatred as it drops off my jaw and down on the floor. It betrayed me. I betrayed myself.
I can hear the man laugh. It's an arrogant laugh, free of empathy or even pity. The laughter is enough to make my anger about this injustice outgrow my fear of punishment. Enough to make me raise my chin and slur at this disgusting joke of a man. "Shut the hell up, old man! You laugh about a 16-year-old girl in chains but trust me when I get out of them you will stop laughing! I will cut that gross smile right out of your face. You sick bastard! I will-"
My rant is shut off by a shot fired, only closely missing my head. I turn my eyes away from the plump man to his side, where I look straight down the shaft of a Glock. I swallow the shock down and shut my mouth.
"That would be more believable if you weren't a 16-year-old girl in chains.", he says with a mocking tone that makes me bite down on my tongue. The fear is fighting its way back into my mind.
The man is coming closer and with every step my anger is suppressed more and my fear is becoming rampant. Yet, there is enough anger and pride left in me to resist the urge to look away. I watch his every move. His movement seems uncoordinated and random, how strangely his weight shifted from one leg to the other after every step without any sign of rhythm. It is almost childlike how heavy his feet hit the floor, but so much more terrifying. Nevertheless, his thinning grey hair doesn't move a bit. It stays in place even after the heavy impact from his trampling until he stands before me.
He lifts his hand and lets the tips of his fingers run along the side of my body where the blood from my wrists has left stains on my t-shirt. His touch disgusts me and I twitch when his warm fingers tickle my cold skin. I look at the ceiling just so I don't have to see his thick, hairy fingers travel along my ribs, just so I don't have to watch the corner of his mouth tilt up in pleasure.
His fingers stop at the rim of my sleeve and my head is pulled down harshly by my chin. I come face to face with my abductor and his dark brown eyes that gleam in excitement and make me look away -right past- him at the woman who is supposed to be my torturer. "Time to answer my questions, Katharina."
He basically spits out my name, while rolling the "r" in it in a typical Eastern European accent, and the realization of what his knowing my name means hits me like a brick. I was not mistaken for another target, nor another girl from the orphanage. He lifts his free hand and everyone in the room marches out the door. Everyone but my torturer who walks in the opposite direction, towards me.
Frightened I follow her graceful movement through the room until she steps behind my field of vision. He lets go of my chin, steps back and I hear drawers being opened behind me. Metal clacking and a sound similar to a person trying to plug in a charger. I brace myself to take in the pain that is going to come my way but my cover falls quickly when I hear the crackling sound of pure electricity.
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My heart races and I try my best to turn. With the balance on the toes of my right foot, I try to turn my hip in order to twist my upper body just so that I can confirm what I fear will be done to me. But without notice, I'm being yanked up by my wrists. The cuffs slide back into the open wounds and a scream leaves my lips. My toes no longer touch the floor and I'm left hanging there with all my weight pulling on the flesh and bones of my wrists.
A tall soldier returns with some sort of device under his arm. A big box with a lot of different cables hanging down its sides. He puts it down on the counter to my left and begins to unravel its cables. He comes closer with an odd-looking wire. It's a black rubber-like line formed like a slinky. The thought of comparing it with such a childish toy is silly but literally the only thing that comes to mind. At least for me. He wraps the wire around my ribs in one neat motion. He must've done this a hundred times because just as quickly as he had that one wrapped around me, he put two other cables and chords around me. One on my upper stomach and one around my arm. This one is just like the one I used to measure my mother's blood pressure and it wraps just as tightly around my arm when he presses a button on the box.
For the last part, he has to stretch up to my hands that I have clenched into fists to ease the pain in my shoulders, arms, and hands.
"Open your hands!", the tone is demanding and harsh but that's not the part that has me confused. It's the posh British accent that makes me frown. I've expected the military handling and was ready to withstand but the perfect English of this fella just put into scale how big this thing is.
Slowly I open my hands but with every move that each finger makes to separate itself from the palm of my hand I can feel the chains scratch against my bone.
Tears start running down my face but I don't sob or scream, don't even flinch. I breathe through the pain until he has wrapped all three Velcro fasteners around my index, middle, and ring finger. As soon as he lets go of my hand, I clench them back into fists. I gasp due to the relief of pain when the chains get lifted off my bones.
The soldier steps back and stands off to my left side. He pushes the box further away right out of my limited field of vision. But he stays inside of it. An older scratchy voice pulled my attention back to the man in a suit who was sitting on a stool by a long, metal table.
"Is your name Katharina Meyer?", he asked rather bored.
Confused I look at him. He just said my name like five minutes ago. Why does he need me to confirm something he obviously already knows?
"Yes.", I answer quickly as I see his expression darkening awaiting an answer.
I watch as the man's eyes shoot over to the soldier's, who nods. A conversation takes place between them that I don't understand. Why does he need the approval of a simple soldier?
His eyes travel back to mine. "Were you born on January, 9th 1989?"
"Yes.", I answer again still thinking about what the point of this conversation is.
"Is your mother's name Anja Maria Meyer born in 1963?", he continues his senseless questioning.
I stop at the sound of her name. I didn't expect them to know so much about my life. About the people around me. "Yes", I answer yet again swallowing the lump in my throat.
"Are you wearing shoes?"
"No.", answered even more confused.
Once again, the man looks over at the soldier who simply nods.
"Are you in possession of the government documents that we're looking for?"
"No. I don't possess any government... what's the word? Government property.", I answer cursing internally that my English vocabulary isn't as big as it could be.
Yet another exchange of looks follows.
"You say you don't have the documents. Let's say I believe you. Where were the documents the last time you saw them?", the man asks. His fingers impatiently tap against the alloy surface as his eyes are narrowed, watching me remorselessly.
"I have never seen any government documents. I don't know what you're talking about.", I answer tired of having no clue what they wanted from me.
"Katharina, I understand that you might not know what documents we're talking about, or that you're a little forgetful. But don't lie to us. We know that you have them. Or that you used to."
"Please, I really don't know what documents you're talking about. I never took anything from the government.", I entreat them to understand me.
I turn my head to the soldier who doesn't nod this time. My jaw clenches intuitively when he just shrugs. The plump man's eyes narrow down to a line. A thin yet so piqued line. Almost huffy. But he stares right past me.
Without a warning, the cold metal teeth of the battery's pliers press into the skin of my lower back and I stretch myself in anguished anticipation. The shock burns through my skin right down to my nerves and bones. All my muscles cramp together until I can't breathe. After what feels like ages, the clamps are removed and the contractions in my muscles subside. I am left with a terrible burning sensation at the entering point and the sensation of thousands of spiders and ants running through my veins.
"Don't lie to us. It makes no sense. We know when you're not telling the truth. It only costs us time and you a piece of your mind. Where are the documents?", he asks in a surprisingly calm tone.
"Sir, I- please believe me- I don't know anything about those documents. I-"
The plier's teeth touch my back yet again. But this time the metal isn't cold. No, it's still burning hot from the earlier shock. And just like the first time my muscles cramp together. My arms get pressed onto my chest and my stomach is so hardened that breathing is impossible for however long this shock lasts. The clamps are roughly pulled off my skin and my limbs relax, dangling around uncontrolled. The smell of burned skin first fills the air and then my lungs.
Before I can catch a break the man in charge stands up and walks closer and closer to me and threatens: "We will break you. We will tear your body apart until you give in. And if you think this is pain, then we will teach you what real pain is. If you don't cooperate now then this will be the last place on earth you will ever get to see.", his voice gets quieter with every word and the fear that his pure presence inflicts on me keeps me focused.
"I don't have what you want. I have never stolen anything. But if this is the last thing, I'll ever see then maybe... maybe I deserve that." I almost swallow the last words but they are the truth. If this is how my life is supposed to end then all those poor souls, I racked might finally get justice and I receive the punishment I merit. I might not have done what they're accusing me of but I have earned this damnation.
„Cute, she thinks she's done something bad. Well, I don't know if you deserve this and it doesn't matter. But I do know that you weren't the one who stole from the German government. But your mother did.", he says with a smile as if he had disclosed the part of my non-existing cover. Instead, he just caused a huge storm of emotions inside my heart. How could he talk that way about my mother? Why would he say that she stole from the government? Why would she steal from the government?
"I'll give you time to think about where you're hiding her booty. And I'll make sure your torturer will give you a kickstart.", he interrupts my train of thought, which resembles a busy crossroad somewhere where traffic rules don't matter more than a train on a set of rails.
„What, you're not gonna do it yourself? Don't want to get your hands dirty?", I tease with an arrogant smile. The anger has taken back its control over me. I couldn't let him get away with such an unfounded accusation. I know that he will punish me for it. I'm just not sure what to expect. He stands before me, looks up into my eyes, and punches straight ahead. He hits my abdomen but his hit wasn't very effective. I swing a little but show no sign of pain.
"You little bitch.", he cusses.
Seeing him so discontented gives me the strength to hold out against the fear and confusion all of this causes. The strength to look at him. I say nothing, do nothing. I just hang there, swinging back and forth a little while my eyes drill their way down into his.
He looks past me and shouts: "Make her bleed!"
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Thank you so much if you reread this chapter after I edited it
I just wasn't happy with my earlier results.
Let me know what you think!(:
~2353~