(A/N) If it becomes confusing about who I'm referring to, or who is speaking, etc. please let me know in a PM or a review so I can fix that as soon as possible. Criticism is always appreciated. Character's thoughts and flashbacks will be in italics. Do enjoy!
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Suki tapped out a simple beat with her fingers against the cold steel of the prison cell, the sound resonating through the cramped room and echoed back in her ears.
It's been nearly a week since I got here, she thought, although I did lose count of a few days after arriving.
She sat in a crushing silence with no way to tell how much time has passed since her last meal. She assumed it was night, but boredom had a cruel habit of making minutes feel like hours. Her only saving grace was the daily outings, but they seemed to grow shorter each day.
Her ears perked up, a faint sound growing closer.
It came again—the soft scraping of fingernails against metal—and her heart sank.
The cell next to hers open and she heard a soft thud before it slammed shut again. She knew what it was, a limp body landing hard against the steel floor, and she knew that his groans of pain would keep her awake again that night. It was a routine she had become far too accustomed to in the weeks after the invasion: distant, disembodied screams in the day, muffled cries in the night, and the hollow footsteps of the interrogators.
And yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't bring herself to block them out.
They've picked up their pace.
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The interrogations had started promptly on their first night. Suki noted that, without fail, they took away one prisoner every afternoon, just after their daily outing, and returned them after their last meal of the day—allowing their pained cries to wear on the other prisoners throughout the night.
They followed a simple pattern, one cell per night down the row, letting the inmates count off the days until it was their turn. And they would keep the pattern until somebody cracked, until somebody backstabbed their friends and turned betrayed the only hope of ending this long and bloody war.
And even then, they'll never stop. Not until every one of us has been taken away, and if we're lucky they won't start over again after that.
At first the shrill screams seemed distant and surreal, the product of some unworldly beast who was beyond all hope of salvation, but was still trying to find release from his agony.
The cries reminded her of another Kyoshi Warrior, Masa, who was plagued by nightmares of her time in the prisons and would often spend sleepless nights wandering the island, hoping not to wake the others with her cries. Suki knew that it was hell for her comrade, but it was a hell that nobody could even hope to help her escape—one that she would have to deal with on her own.
Those nightmares, courtesy of the Fire Nation, were the product of her being in and out of several of their prisons over many years. She had earned Suki's utmost respect for what she had gone through in her past, and all for the sake of the other Warriors.
And soon, I'll know a little of what she ensured for so long.
She shuddered at the thought. She had once caught a glimpse of the scars that crisscrossed her friend's body when, begrudgingly, Masa had agreed to go with the rest of the warriors to one of the hot springs that were abundant on their island.
Thoughts of dread filled her mind. Those scars that she had seen on her friend, even if it was for only a split second, told a story of pain that no other person on the island could ever understand. She had pondered why Masa would willingly subject herself to that, but the only answer she ever got was that so 'nobody else has to.'
And now I know nothing about where she is.
Suki thought back to the brief conversation they once had in the dead of night. It was about their lifelong enemy's prison system, with which one was so well acquainted, and one whose knowledge was only based on rumors.
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Flashback:
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It was well past midnight when Suki approached the rocky shore that adorned the northern coast of their island. She had followed one of the other Warriors, Masa, there as silently as she could, although she was sure her compatriot was well aware of her presence.
"Trouble sleeping again?" Suki asked, abandoning all thoughts of stealth once she thought she had been caught
"Bad memories. They do that sometimes," Masa said softly, her voice nearly lost in the quiet rolling of the ocean.
"I've heard the stories about their prisons, but I always thought they were stories. Made up it exaggerated, not…true." Suki said, leaning against the rock that Masa was sitting on.
"Now you know. But they see true brutality as a necessary evil."
"Necessary? I mean, it's expected for a prison, but they've crossed that line generations ago."
"I've seen it enough to see their reasoning behind it. Think about it: they have to control their prisoners. Prisoners who are likely professional, experienced soldiers. Most of them benders, and no doubt much stronger than civilian prison guards. So, if they can't control them with brute force, they do it through fear. And we aren't benders, Suki. We're the first they'll beat down because we can't fight back when we're in chains. Not like benders can."
She sat there in silence again, watching the waves roll closer to the shore and crest into white ridges, then slap against the coast before disappearing back into the ocean.
"That's…disturbingly well thought out."
"Well, there's always the one or two guards that are more sadistic, but most aren't." Masa sorted through her memories for a moment before continuing. "You know, the first time I went to prison they lashed a man in front of us. I don't think they wanted to beat him as badly as they did, and they patched him up real nicely after, but he tried to escape. They had to make an example of him, and they couldn't risk holding back. It worked, too, only one idiot tried to escape for a full two months after that."
"That's when you were gone for about that long—"
Masa gave her leader a small, knowing grin before her distant stare returned. Neither of them felt the need to break the silence that followed. They sat for hours: one unable to sleep, and drifting into it against the rock, her forehead resting on her arms.
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Suki swallowed, hard.
But this? This was different. We attacked their homeland, tried to depose their leader and, if we were lucky, kill him.
Suki stretched her muscles as much as she could in the cramped, cold room.
The guards will come at us with a vengeance. And what can I do? Escape? It's the Boiling Rock, escaping is suicide.
And even if I could get off this bloody rock, I'd be stuck in the middle of the Fire Nation with no clue where I am. And if I fail? Spirits knows what will happen. A lashing? Maybe—if they're feeling merciful.
She laid there with nothing but the coarse rags and the layers of dirt that slowly blackened her skin to cover her. Resting her head on her hands, she squeezed her eyes shut for a long time, trying and failing to pass into the comfort of deep sleep. It escaped her once again, the third night in a row. For the past days, she had only been getting by on short naps that she caught when she felt remotely safe, leaving her physically and mentally exhausted.
That night Kyoshi seemed to be worlds away from her. Her imagination ran rampant with the dreadful realization that come tomorrow, unless by some freak chance the guards changed their simple pattern, it would be her turn to experience the horrors of the worst that the Fire Nation offered.
And still, she held fast to the last shred of hope that she could find. The slim chance that Sokka, Aang, Katara, and Toph had all escaped from the invasion without harm. And despite how much she hated having to depend on others, she knew that they were her only hope of escape—be it through breaking her out or ending the war entirely.
And at this point, she was painfully aware of how slim those chances were. She resigned herself to a sleepless night and let her mind wander, drifting back to when she first met Sokka and filling her thoughts with impossible rescues. A small voice in her head nagged at her, the same voice that prided itself on never becoming blind her reality. But she pushed it away, seeing no harm in indulging herself that night, because that same voice knew it would probably be her last chance in a long time.
Perhaps, in small doses, ignorance can be blissful.
That, or I'm just lying to myself.
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