Hullo there Sparks!
Up late again. Life is getting in my way again, but they say, ‘Done is better than perfect.’ I’m tired now. Sorry.
By the way, have you ever been go-karting? I never did as a kid. It’s one of those classic kid experiences that I kind of skipped. A few days ago, dear husband Love, got a second-hand one in pretty rough shape for next to nothing at an auction, and he has been fixing it up for our eldest daughter.
She had her first ride yesterday, on our bumpy gravel roads. She is so happy, and it went so well. It was an absolute blast and I can already see her learning so much. But… I think we’ve maybe created a monster. Some kind of speed demon. I really hope I don’t have to rush to the hospital anytime soon.😬
Have you ever done something you thought was so super special for your kids. that turned out to be a huge pain in your own behind in stead? Ahem… Please tell me about yours so I can feel better about ours.
Also,
is writing me a haiku! Thanks so much! I can’t wait to read it. If you like haiku, there’s a bunch of it here, and you can even make requests! Do check it out. 😉🧡As for the story…
INDEX | Chapter 7 | Scenes 1 & 2 | Scenes 3 & 4 | Scene 5 | Scene 6 | Next Scene → Coming soon.
Previously: When Misty runs away, after Luke tries again to break into her head, she runs straight into the arms of the Planetary Guard who he was trying so hard to save her from. Now they have her chained up in a little room somewhere.
Teag and James taught me a lot about torture. First I read about it. Then James implanted the experiences in my memory. Then I had to practice with Teag.
They put my head underwater and held me there till I passed out, then started again. They beat me until my bones broke then put me back together. They cut and bled me until the bucket was full, then bathed me in it. They starved me until I killed the bird and drank its warm salty blood straight from the neck.
I’m bored, and I miss Tom and I feel bad about Logan and Luke. The planetary Guard is not very inventive. Teag was. Teag had a wonderful imagination. And James can do things most people wouldn’t even be able to imagine, without even lifting a finger.
* * *
I can’t tell how long I’ve been chained to the floor in this well-lit little white room. It is sealed. There are no outside sounds or signs of movement or even traces of energy to mark the passage of time. They’ve brought me water twice now. A little booted woman bent down and held the canteen, so I could gulp down the cold liquid. It was so good, but I’m thirsty again and I don’t think the next soldier will bring me water.
There is blood all over the floor now. Blood and other things. I am tired and hungry and hot, but by far the worst part is the inactivity. Chained to the ground, kneeling, with my ankles and wrists connected, by a strap that is only a little longer than my dirty feet, there’s no room at all even to stretch, and my energy is already brimming.
* * *
“Rise and shine, Sweetheart!” Colonel Daniels’ deep, gravelly voice booms at me through the lights again. I blink and squirm, wishing I could rub my eyes or scratch my cheek, but my hands are still chained.
Sweat drips off the tip of my nose and my chin. Gross. I must have nodded off or passed out during that last Q and A. I huff out a sigh and let my energy level rise a smidge. Splaying my fingertips on the ground, I let it flow, slowly. Not enough to be noticeable, or appear threatening but enough to feel less nauseated by the ache that has settled in the pit of my belly.
It’s a dangerous move. If I keep it up too long or release a little too much at once, it’ll kick off my energy regen, a mistake I’ve made only once. The last time was bad enough. It caused a vicious cycle, where I had to constantly escalate the amount of energy I released until I couldn’t keep it up anymore. It ended when I fell asleep with a violent reset similar to the disaster that blew up Luke’s house.
I count fifty heartbeats, while Daniels monologues and gathers himself for another attempt to ‘make me talk,’ then shut off the flow of energy, leaving the ground below me saturated and warm. I bet it’d glow in the dark.
The colonel smells of smoke and liquor. There is dirt under his fingernails. He always asks the same questions, “How many Teleran soldiers are there in the Royal Army?” I don’t answer. I close my eyes and think of Logan as he slaps me backhanded.
“What kind of weapons do they use?” I don’t even try. I keep my eyes on the ground. Another blow from the other direction.
“What kind of vessels do you have?” He asks and then waits a full minute. I remember the way my energy flowed, the way it concentrated on my arms and made them glow, and how Logan’s blood was black in the slight green light. I shake my head, tears burning my eyes.
The Colonel gestures to the bear beside him. Grora grimaces, baring his long white canines then grabs the large bucket of iced water from the corner and dumps it over my head.
I shiver and spit out a mouthful of blood. A coil of thin steam rises from the ground below me. At least it helps with the smell. I tug at the straps around my wrists and ankles but only a little, my skin is raw from rubbing against the woven metal. I wonder if it will rust.
A little while later another soldier comes in with a toolbag that she opens out on the table in the corner. It is full of shiny sharp things, each in its own little pocket.
The Serp blinks at me but doesn’t say a word between holding up the various instruments she intends to use, the stainless steel glints against her snakelike skin. I feel her telepathy. She’s nothing compared to Luke. Let her try. I nearly killed Logan. I deserve this.
* * *
“General Morgan, I assure you, I have it under control,” Daniels asserts.
“Hah!” A voice exclaims, with such derisiveness, I can almost taste it through the shimmering wall. I take a deep breath and slow my energy release to the lightest trickle. I can’t stop the flow completely anymore. Just a little longer.
I start when I see him. It’s that General person that Luke respects so much. He is muscular and straight-backed, a little shorter than the Colonel, with four golden little stars on each of his shoulders and hair that is more gray than black. With one raised eyebrow, he glances back at Daniels, who follows at his heels. I squirm, trying to sit up a little straighter, while the Colonel stands by like a scolded puppy.
They are followed a moment later by a woman in what I’ve come to recognize as a Lieutenant’s uniform with shiny gold bars, wearing a red-brown ponytail. She gasps and covers her mouth and nose with both hands when she sees me, kneeling on the filthy blood-slick tiles. The General looks at me with pity in his eyes, then glares at Daniels beside him.
“It’s been a week! You’ve had her all this time? You’ve been torturing her?” She doesn’t talk, you incompetent fool!” He rants at Daniels, who only blushes in response to the accusations. “McKeen had her for nearly four years, guess how many words she spoke. Go on guess!” The General pauses while the Colonel blinks and sputters.
“Three. ‘No, no, and Elle’. That’s it. And you think you can get her to respond with a little tough love? Are you a total idiot?”
After another minute of remonstration, the General nods in my direction and his Lieutenant bends to undo my shackles. I slump forward gratefully into her arms.
* * *
I wake up hot but clean, wearing long white overalls, in a three-walled cell, with vertical bars all across the front. There is a pipe running across the length, a few centimeters from the ceiling, and a little silver blob of camera in one corner.
I sit up in the cot, that hangs on chains from the wall. A small high window lets in enough natural light for me to tell that it is afternoon.
My wounds have been tended. I look around and see a large sealed bottle of water beside a candy bar like the ones Logan used to bring me on a tray in the corner. My stomach grumbles loudly…
* * *
“My name is Cathy.” The Lieutenant says with a smile, holding out another candy bar and a bottle of water through the bars the next morning. My throat constricts, but I only frown in the corner farthest from her. She puts it on the ground and walks away.
* * *
I have spent the last hour upside down, doing handstand pushups against the wall. Cathy eyes me from the gate as I lower my feet to the ground and stand up, my untidy braid flops forward across my shoulder. I toss it back.
The bandages, along with the long sleeves I tore off of my overalls are folded up neatly in a pile on the ground beside me. She frowns a little when she sees them but doesn’t say anything.
She glances up at the camera from the gate with something in her hands. I take a deep breath and watch her carefully. I am all sweaty but I feel a lot better.
After a moment, there’s a loud buzzer sound, and the gate clicks. She pushes it open and then closes it behind her. I am frozen. She turns around and smiles and talks and comes closer slowly. My head is so full of words, warnings, worries. None of it makes sense. I feel lost.
Cathy stops a meter from me and hands me a book and a pack of chalk pastels. She says it’s in case I get bored. She seems nice.
I take the items from her and hold them in my hands. She invites me to sit beside her and leads me to the only surface which is the bed.
“Can I show you how it works?” She asks with an open expression and I give back the book. We spend the next hour filling in the empty lines and shapes of a castle with pointy towers and a drawbridge.
Next Time: After a rocky start, it seems like Misty has found someone who wants to be her friend, only we know a thing or two about Cathy that she doesn’t.
Thanks so much for reading! If you like, please:
Or better yet:
and as always, I love hearing what you think so, feel free to:
That girl needs a hero. She needs someone to take care of her, and she's showing admirable restraint where the PG is concerned.
Ok, first of all, I hope your daughter is wearing a helmet at least and sturdy shoes! Second, don't invest a lot of money and effort into a dream wedding without considerable thought. No matter what, the result will likely be a lifetime of therapy, for you both...whether the marriage lasts or not😫
Well Jenny, you are reaching new levels of depraved experiences that Misty/Jenina has been subject to in her conditioning... and she seems to be craving such abuse as penance for losing control and doing what she did to Logan! That's taking remorse to a new level! Although to me her control has been remarkable overall. And which Morgan points out with some reluctant admiration it seems.
But, what is going on with Daniels, Morgan and Cathy seems very much the classic interrogator's good cop / bad cop... With all the conditioning for torture and interrogation by James and Teag, it would be surprising if she doesn't recognize such an approach. And maybe she does...
A great, tough episode!