He Won't Be Coming Home
Final Moments
I had no idea how long I had been locked up I that cell for, but I knew that it had been awhile. I tried to keep track of the sun rising and falling to count the days, but found that I lost track after about a week.
My entire body was in pain. Every so often, soldiers would come in to interrogate me endlessly, asking me questions I never knew the answers to, and I would receive a beating at every session. My body was littered with bruises and cuts, I had a permanent headache from the numerous cracks to the head I had received, and it hurt to breathe because my ribs were surely broken in a few places.
Even my stomach ached, for I was only given food once a day, twice if I was lucky, and it was never something that made my mouth water, that was for sure. But it kept me alive. I still wasn't sure if I even cared to be alive after so long of being locked up. Part of me was still clinging to the possibility that as long as I was alive, there was a chance I would see my family again. But the longer I was locked up on enemy territory, the more cynical I got, and the more my hopes began to dwindle. I didn't really think I was going to make it out of this alive. No one ever did. What made me so special that I might end up different?
Nothing. Nothing made me special. I was going to die by the enemy's hand, and I would just turn into a miniscule piece of history like the rest of them, a memory slowly forgotten over the course of time.
The suspense was literally killing me. Every encounter I made with the enemy, I wondered if that would be my final day, my day of judgment. But it never was. A part of me, the part that knew itwas eventually going to happen, wanted them to just do it already, to just off me and get it over and done with as painlessly and as fast as possible. I'd thought about taking away the enemy's fun of this little game of cat and mouse. I'd thought about taking my own life a fair few times. I'd even attempted to suffocate, to choke myself until my heart stopped beating. But as soon as my death felt near, I let go, and breathed again. There was something in me that just wouldn't follow through. I didn't want to give the Iraqis the satisfaction of killing me when the time came, but I didn't want to die. I was scared to die. It seems a bit foolish to be scared of something that is so inevitable, but I was scared of dying. I was scared of not know what came next. I didn't wan to find out, especially not anytime soon.
The door to my cell was hastily opened, like it always was, and I knew I was going to get my next beating before I even caught sight of the soldiers coming in.
"Get up," the English-speaking soldier ordered, coming over to me. I slowly began to get up, feeling bones cracking and muscles aching, but the solders were impatient as always and two of them grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me up keeping their tight grip on me as I was dragged to the middle of the room, stumbling again on my right leg.
The soldier behind me grabbed my arms roughly, yanking them back until my wrists were together, and I felt a coarse cloth material being tightly bound around my wrists, holding them in place and rendering me defenseless. I didn't even try to put up a fight because I knew if I did, they would only rough me up a little bit more.
I watched as one of the soldiers to my front took a piece of cloth from his pocket and advanced on me, stopping before me and bringing the cloth up to my face. He placed it over my eyes and it was thick enough, even with the faint sunlight filtering into the room, that my sight was completely gone, a wall of black before my eyes. I felt the knot tied tight at the back of my head, and when I heard the soldiers start to move, start to leave the room while dragging me with them, I knew that this was going to be no ordinary beating. This was going to be something much bigger, and the thought of it made my heart thump off-beat in my chest, my blood running cold through my veins.
Being that my sight was taken from me and all I had to determine my surroundings was my hearing, I had no idea where I was being taken. I couldn't tell if we turned right or left, but I knew that we had traveled up a few flights of stairs. It wasn't much longer until I was ordered around again.
"Get on your knees," the one soldier ordered, his voice sounding so familiar after hearing it for however long I had been here. I hesitated, and when I didn't move, I felt a hard kick to the back of one of my knees, causing me to groan as I dropped down completely. The two soldiers who had grips on my shoulders pulled me harshly up onto my knees, holding me there for a moment before letting go, leaving me there on my own. I could hear movements al around me, so I knew that I wasn't alone, wherever I was.
Suddenly the room turned deathly quiet, all movement ceasing. I heard someone clear their throat before beginning to speak in their Arab language, keeping me completely in the dark on what was going on. There was something different about the way the words were being spoken. After being around the Iraqis for so long, I could determine the strangeness in the voice because that wasn't how they talked when addressing each other, and certainly not when they were ordering me around. It sounded almost rehearsed, like someone reading off a cue card for a television program, or someone reading a paper for a public speech.
Public.... Publicbroadcasting.
I swallowed hard, my heartbeat racing. I understood now the way I was tied up and blindfolded, made to get on my knees. I had seen the other broadcastings of the captives and what...happened to them. So... My time had finally come.
Someone standing near me grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back and exposing my neck, causing me to whimper in my throat. My breathing started to quicken, and I felt like I just couldn't get enough oxygen flowing to my lungs.
Quickly, I felt the large cold blade pressing gently into my throat. My body began shaking and I knew that this was it. Any second now I would feel that blade slice through my skin and flesh, vessels and then bones. And then I would feel no more.
Suddenly, the sounds of the world were blocked out, and all I could hear was the deep, unsteady beating of my heart. Scenes began flashing through my mind; times spent with family and friends, all the good memories, the high points in my life. Jay... And Alex... The photograph of little Matt. I could feel my tears welling up, dampening the cloth around my eyes. I wasnever going to see them again. This wasn't how I wanted it to end. I wanted to grow old with my beautiful wife and all my friends, watching our children grow as well and start families of their own. I didn't want to die here. Not in this place. Not so cold and alone and full of life. I wanted to live, wanted to watch my surroundings change over time as the world kept spinning. I wanted to spend my life with the people that truly mattered to me. It took me all this time to realize how much of my life I had taken for granted, how many moments I had let go to waste.
And as the blade pressed harder into my neck, the skin threatening to break as the soldier kept talking into the camera I knew was standing nearby, the last thing that flashed through my mind was Jayvee Annabelle Sanders, her beautiful eyes and her gorgeous smile looking back at me.
This was it...
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Ahhh!!!! Two more chapters to go! And I do believe I shall begin writing them as soon as I post this beast :PI can't wait!
Hope you guys liked the updates. Hoping on having the rest out later today?
xox