I lay on the ground, my breathing labored. I was still refusing to admit anything. All my body wanted me to do was to say, "Yes, there's a rebellion. Leave me alone."
No, I would never do that. Even as I was lying on the cement floor, losing the strength to breathe, and any reason to go on, I would never betray the girl I helped build-up. The girl who caused a rebellion and hardly knew it. The girl who could spark a war with a will to survive-
I hear footsteps coming. Someone is coming. Someone who will undoubtedly beat me again and again until my already bruised body becomes unrecognizable. I try to brace myself for new pain to layer upon the wounds already inflicted, but I lack the strength to even do that. The footsteps get closer, closer, closer and my heart beats faster in terror.
The door to the decrepit cell opens, creaking eerily. My eyes remain shut as my fate awaits me. Surely someone to demand answers again, someone to whip me as I writhe in pain. The only reason I wasn't an Avox yet was that I had information. Information I vowed I would never say.
The door shuts. Footsteps walk tantalizingly slow towards me, as if hesitating. What are they waiting for? Kill me now. Kill me and let my secrets die.
"What information do you harbor about the rebellion?" he says, the standard greeting I have received in this cell from any interrogators. But I know this man. A man who helped make me who I am despite the fact that he hates me and who I stand with.
If I could, I would say something. How much I hate him, him and everything he stands for. How much pain and suffering he has created. What I would do to let him know how many people have suffered, suffering far worse than me.
He sighs, and pulls up a chair that had been haphazardly thrown in the corner by past interrogators. "You're like your mother. I knew this wouldn't work." My father sits down next to me, as if this is a normal family gathering. "Out of all of my children, I had hopes for you. You were so smart and clever as a child- even more than Rollin or Milena. You could have gone so far, Cinna. So far and have been someone who could have helped run this government, like me. Father and son, both high up in the government."
The man who helped to raise me seemed to not see that I was sprawled on the ground, covered in blood and tortured. This man who had won over so many women, including my mother, with his political power and charm.
"But, my boy, you strayed. You left your family- those who loved for you, and joined the rebels."
I was enraged at his comment. "You never loved me," I spat with as much malice as a dying man can have.
My father opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it. He stands up and walks out slowly. "Goodbye, Cinna," he says softly as he walks out and closes the door quietly behind him.
I walk down the hallway where guards salute me as I pass them. I approach the head guard and say something that goes against all logic. "Prisoner 110 is to be euthanized as soon as possible."
The guard looks startled. "Sir, with all due respect, this prisoner is believed to have valuable information and we believe that further interrogation-"
I cut off the woman. "The prisoner is to die as humanly as possible." I knew that almost never happened- usually someone would just shoot the inmate until they stopped screaming.
I walk briskly down the hallway while the head guard scrambles to try to arrange the death of my son. I try to ignore the guilt- I could handle his death, surely. I couldn't his torture. His belief that I never loved him devastates me.
Call me backwards, perhaps. I wouldn't deny it. But I couldn't let him live a life where he is tortured for information that he would never reveal, and believe that his father never loved him. I can say that I was not a great father figure to my son. I can say that I could have done better. But I loved my son.
My assistant runs down the hallway towards me. "Mr. President, the General Henning is requesting an immediate meeting with over preparations for future evacuations.
I nod, and follow him. I don't let my inner turmoil show. I, a man with so much power and so many reasons to be guilty, does not have a son who believes that he is loved.
It kills me.
