He pulls up the blind, flicks on the light and watches her. She no longer approaches the window, no longer begs to be let out. It takes her longer each time to adjust to the bright light, her only movement comes from her left arm as it raises to shield her eyes from the bright light. And then when she can open her eyes more than a squint, she lowers that same arm carefully back to rest on her raised knees. And then she glares at him, defiant, angry, the terror and fear no longer the prominent emotion when they are separated by the glass, although he is well aware how easily he can elicit them from her when they share the same room. He notices that the glare is back to full strength, the swelling that previously closed her left eye has reduced since the last time he came to see her. Something he would take pleasure in remedying if she provoked him again.
Three months had passed since he first imprisoned her here and he idly wonders just how much longer it will take to truly break her. After that first time he observed her, the pleading, the begging "please let me out, I know you can hear me, please…" he would have bet a significant proportion of his personal wealth that she would have been broken, questioned and discarded within a few days. But, he was man enough to admit he was wrong, only in private mind you, but she had proven to be tougher than she looked. Truth be told, he was rather enjoying the challenge. For too long he had found no excitement in his work, since becoming the Secretary of Defence he had no-one willing to stand up to him, no-one dared question him, and he was bored. She had become his personal project, and he would win. Walter Bishop didn't lose, ever, and he was a very, very patient man.
He pressed the intercom next to the window to talk to her.
"On your knees, face away from the door, hands behind your head".
He watched as she briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath before once again glaring at him. He thought they'd made progress on this point, she hadn't defied this simple request after the fourth time they'd pummelled her into the floor. Was she really going to regress?
He pressed the button again.
"Come now Olivia, you know how this works, don't test me. Get on your knees, face away from the door and put your hands behind your head. I will not ask again."
She was debating with herself, he could see the hate, the pain and finally the self loathing flash across her eyes. But, just as he was about to send in the guards she moved, slowly pushing herself off the bunk with her left arm, the right one still cradled close across her chest. Her eyes were lowered now, she never could manage to look at him when she was acquiescing to his demands, but he didn't miss the wince as she bent her left leg before finally turning away from him towards the right wall. Finally she was on her knees, although she didn't slump down, rather she knelt up straight, rigid defiance even in such a submissive stance. Her left hand clasped the back of her neck, over the now blond again hair. But her right arm remained clutched across her chest.
"Both hands Olivia".
Her voice was cracked, quiet, unwilling.
"I can't."
"Both hands, now!" His tone was sharp, demanding.
"I….please….I can't". She clearly hated to voice her weakness.
He instructed the guards to go in, one infront of her, one behind, awaiting his instructions. As she noted their positions she shook her head and spoke again, faint pleading in her tone
"Please, I can't….my shoulder, I can't move it.."
Her reasoning was cut-off by a heavy boot slamming into her stomach. Immediately she doubled over, gasping for air, her left hand now protecting her stomach.
"How many times must we do this Olivia? Get both your hands behind your head now, you are testing my patience. "
He watched her uncurl from the floor, but this time she didn't kneel up straight, her wary gaze was on the guard infront of her as she knelt back on her heels, as far away from him as she could manage. He heard her quiet whimper of pain as she grasped her right wrist with her left hand and raised her right arm to head height. But it got no further, a choked cry of pain accompanied its descent back to its previous place cradled against her chest.
He saw now that she was telling the truth, her shoulder clearly was out of its socket, but he had little sympathy for his prisoner or her plight. His burning anger at her rose above any human empathy he may once have had. He signalled to the guards.
"Full restraints please gentlemen, let's give Miss Dunham here some time to remember the rules".
He saw her desperately try to scramble away from the two men surrounding her as she turned to look at him to plead her case.
"Please, please, I'm not trying to play you, my shoulder is dislocated, please, don't do this, please".
Her increasingly frantic pleas were cut off as the guards grabbed her arms, yanking her forward, face down on the floor. Her choked off piercing scream indicated the exact moment when her right arm was twisted up behind her back and cuffed to her left. As he noted the tears streaming from her tightly clenched eyes the guards wrapped a chain around her waist and attached her cuffed wrists, then shackled her ankles together before forcing her knees bent and locking her ankles to the waist chain. She was now unable to move, but even so the guards took a moment to taunt her, to get in a few punches before leaving the cell.
He couldn't resist a few parting words.
"Remember this was your choice Olivia. All you have to do is follow the rules here. I am the law in this country. There is no trial for you, a terrorist, an enemy of the state, you have no rights. This is your life now. "
With that he took one last look at her now shaking body and flipped off the light and closed the shade, leaving her in total darkness again.