He Won't Be Coming Home
Interrogation
I was rudely shaken awake in the middle of the night, about two months into my time at the hospital, but a group of enraged Iraqi soldiers. They dragged me off the cot, threw my uniform at me, and waited impatiently as I quickly dressed. They were shouting angrily at me, and I was partially glad that I couldn't understand a word they were saying, with the anger that shone in their voices.
Once I was dressed the soldiers nearest the door began to turn, exiting the room, and I started to follow, slowly limping on my right leg. I felt a shove from behind and stumbled before feeling the men flanking my sides grab me from under the arms, dragging me with them. They took me down a dark corridor, passing by various doorways before turning down another passageway, just as dark as the last.
It didn't seem to take very long for them to lead me to a room with a wrought iron door, and they all flanked the doorway as I was dragged to it. I caught a glimpse inside and saw that it was completely bare, save for a barred window near the ceiling on the wall opposite the door.
Hastily the men dragging me threw me into the room, my body landing on the cold, hard, dirty floor. I tried to get up but could only turn to face the door just in time to watch it being pulled shut, the sound of the lock clicking resounding off the walls and inside my head.
Quickly I leapt up, throwing myself at the locked door, banging my fists against it as hard as I could.
"Open this fucking door right now!" I screamed, but silence met my ears in return. Growling in fury, I slammed my body into the door over and over again, feeling the bruises being pressed into my skin and muscles.
"Let me out of here!" I screamed once more, hauling out with my fist and slamming my knuckles into the metal. I recoiled in pain and looked down at my hand, seeing the ripped skin and blood oozing from the new wounds. I breathing in deeply a few times, letting the rage leave my body once I came to the realization that no one was going to come back to let me out. I was their prisoner of war, and I didn't want to think about what my fate had come to.
Sighing deeply, I turned and paced the length of the room, walking back and forth as I ran my hands repeatedly over my face, trying to keep myself calm. I just wanted to go home, back to the loving arms of Jay. I wanted to leave this place and forget that any of this had ever happened, but I knew that even if I could go home, nothing would ever be the same. The scars had already ran too deep, had already taken hold of me, and there was no letting go. There was no forgetting. There would be nothing to help ease the pain of all the things that I had seen, of all the things that had been done. Nothing could bring back my best friend, and nothing could take us back to before any of this had happened.
Taking a deep breath, I leaned against one of the walls, slowly sliding down until I was sitting, my knees to my chest, my arms wrapped around them. A pale beam of light was washing over me and I slowly glanced up to see the full moon staring down at me from the sky, peeking through the metal bars of the window. I wondered when the last time was that Jay and I had just sat up at night outside, looking up at the moon and the stars that littered the sky. It was something we often did when we were teenagers and didn't have a care in the world, and I wished more than anything to just get to hold her in my arms and look up at the sky with her one last time.
I had come to the realization quickly in the first hours of being locked in that cell that I was never going to see her again. I was never going to get to hold her, or kiss Alex goodnight, or see my new baby boy. I had already been away from them for... God knows how long. It had felt like forever, but in reality had been just close to a year and a half. And already I had forgotten the way Jayvee smelled, or the way her eyes would sparkle, or the way her nose would slightly scrunch up when she laughed. I was forgetting, and it killed me. I didn't want to forget her, or forget any of them, but I knew it wouldn't be long until I had forgotten the contours of Jay's face or the way she smiled or the sound of her voice, if I even lived much longer after this point.
I didn't know how long I had been sitting against that wall, but I must have fallen asleep because I was startled awake as the metal door was slammed open. I didn't bother getting up from my place on the floor as I watched three soldiers file into the room, two with rifles held at the ready. The door was closed behind them, and the one unarmed soldier slowly walked over to me, his hands behind his back, until he was stood at my feet.
"So, you work for the United States of America, no?" he asked in slightly broken English. His accent held a hint of British in it, and I knew that he had to be a translator for them, or one of the only ones who could speak clear enough English.
I didn't answer him, and he continued to stare me down, waiting for an answer. "Don't try my patience..." he warned, and I saw the two armed soldiers take a small step closer.
"Y-yes," I stuttered out, and he nodded his head.
"Good, so you won't mind answering my questions..." he said, before pausing. "What was the secret mission you were sent here for?"
I looked at him in silence for a moment, not understanding what he wanted. "It was no secret mission. We were to infiltrate Haifa and set up a base point there, and that was it," I answered truthfully.
"Do not lie to me. I want to know who sent you, and what you were doing with nuclear mission detonators in your pack," the man demanded angrily, and by then I was really baffled. When I didn't answer I heard him growl deep in his throat and then make his way to me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and slamming my head back into the wall, holding it there as he crouched down to my level, whipping out a knife and pointing it at my neck, the tip pricking my skin. I gulped hard, keeping my eyes on the silver blade.
"You will tell me everything you know," he growled.
"I don't know anything," I managed to spit at him, and the soldier looked deep in my eyes before letting me go, standing, and walking away. He muttered something in his native language to the other two soldiers before leaving the room. The two remaining quickly advanced, and I felt the butt of one of their rifles collide with the side of my head, knocking me onto my side. I felt the wind knocked out of me as a kick was sent to my ribs, and could feel bones cracking as I was kicked repeatedly. My head was spinning from the blow I had received, and prayed that it would all be over soon as my ribs snapped under the force of the soldiers' beatings. Right before they left, one of them placed a heavy foot on my back, holding me to the ground before whipping the back of my head with their gun, striking my skull hard before he turned and left, leaving me to wallow in my pain and self-pity.
Once the door was slammed shut and locked again, I coughed, the air tickling my lungs in a painful way, and I prayed. I prayed to God, begging for his mercy and for this to all be over soon, for Him to just take me right there and then and put me out of my misery. But He didn't. And I kept coughing, watching as the dirt of the floor mixed with my blood.
♠ ♠ ♠
Wooo! Two in less than a 24 hour period. I wrote these two together last night, and I would have written more but my wrist was in a bit of pain... cuz I was also working on planning out three one shots coming up, and one of them I think ended up turning into a possible full length story...And I think Sarah will be pleased to hear that the one shot I am thinking of making into a full story is the one about MANHATTAN... you best get what I mean Sarah ;)
So, only THREE more chapters after this. This'll be the longest story that I've finished in a time frame of less than a year. It'll be just about 11 months the end of this month, from the time I posted the first chapter back on Quizilla. Go me ^.^
xox