Part 20
You don't believe in war, but what's that gun your toting?
I don't like this room. I can't really see it, but it feels stifled. I feel stiflied, and I believe I shall be sick, the room is spinning, and I have no ideas what terrors lie ahead. I have a feeling I will get a slow and painful death. I feel that is how Arnaud likes it. He loves to see people suffer. My thoughts drift to my mother.
My sweet mother, I hope she is alright. She probably hasn't been told yet, which is good, unless The Official told my father. It will break her heart, her son being kidnapped. She already has enough trouble with this illness, and the impending divorce. I am sure my father is laughing at this, laughing at her. Her artist, good for nothing, son managed to get himself kidnapped. The son, she had pleaded for him to years, to love, as he has so many people reject him already. The son, he knew was rotten, who would never amount to much, and would always be someone's punching bag, someone's little gopher. The son who painted "indecent pictures" and would the most likely be a drug addict, if he wasn't already.Now, I must die, before I can prove him wrong, though even if everyone in the world told him I had outstanding qualities, and deserved the love he bestowed so generously to Lionel and Susan, he would laugh in their face. He knew his son better than anyone he claims, "My son is a failure." he would proclaim proudly.
I am not a failure, I am not the little mouse, I am not any of the wrong perspections people have of me. I am human and I do make mistakes, and I have sinned, but I did not the belittlement I have always gotten, and I definetly do not need it now. I am going to die, I must face the fact, I am going to die. I may not be able to do much, but I need to look death into the face, and declare myself, "Not a coward!" before I go beyond this world.
The room is cold, the hairs on my arms stand on end. I stand still, I will wait, Arnaud has left to go do something. I must remain calm, and thing of the few good things I was able to secure in my life. I think my biggest happiness is my paintings, the paintings which my mother taught me to do when I was a child, oh course I have surpassed her teachings, but paintings has always been my escape into my reality, and away from everyone else's reality. I wish I could paint one last picture, but it is not the time for that. It is the time to except the circumstances and events of what will be next.
I hear Arnaud's footfalls,as he sets back into the room. "Why hasn't he been strapped to the table, yet?" He says harshly.
The person standing next to me coughs. "I...I ..I was waiting for you."
"Will you get him on the table already, we are getting behind schedule." Oh, great, he had mapped out my death.
They walk me to a examing table and the push me down unto it. I take a deep breath, as they put on the tight leather straps around my ankles, and wrists. I hear a whirring of an electric razor coming to life.
"His clothes are still on him, you fool, turn it off now. I hear the sound of fabric ruffling, as if some was shrugging. I hear one of them, Arnaud I believe, take something out of his pocket. I hear him opening it. It must be a knife. (I find it interesting how my other senses have picked up now, but why didn't they early when I first went blind, before I hit the vase.) He unhooks the straps off my wrists, and pulls me up, ripping off my jacket, and tie. He pushes me back onto the table, restraps my straps. He slings my belt off, making the end hit me hard in the mouth. He begins cutting off my pants. Well, I was right. They leave me in my boxers.
"I thought we were...."Arnaud's lackey stammers.
"No, I have changed my mind, Maybe later." Arnaud snaps.
The razor is turned back on again, the razor touches my chest and I winch. Arnaud slaps me, "Stay still." His ring cuts gashes my check. I almost laugh, as I imagine my brother if he had got his check cut like that, he would be whinning it doesn't match with his perfectly blond hair. They have finished shaving a small circle into on my chest, and they make another one across from it on the other side of my chest. It stings, but I have a feeling it will get worse. I close my eyes, and breath calmly, as they shave one circle one on each arm, and then one on my inner thigh. Sweat has started to pour down my face.They place suction cups on each of the five circles.
"Welcome to stage one of your death. I will ask you a question, and if I don't like the answer, you get to see what this little machine does. " Arnaud tells me, as if I can see it. I can feel him breathing over me. I don't really want to know what the machine does, and glad I cannot see it.
"Since, I have lost the questions for levels 1 and two of this round, I will start with level three.Here is your first question. What do you know of the agency."
"What exactly.........AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" A wave of electricty floods through my body, emulating from the five sensory points. It last for eternity it seems, but it may have only been a few seconds. I feel a cold sweat begin to drip heavily on my body. My whole body tingles. I hear a small metallic click as he turns the wave off. I shut my eyes, and wait quietly for the next question. I have to figure out a way to answer the questions his way, I don't think I can stand many more eletrical currents like that. How am I going to answer the questions right, I don't know, I try to think. I can't answer them, I can't my mind has abandoned me, I can't even remember my name right now.
You don't believe in war, but what's that gun your toting?
I don't like this room. I can't really see it, but it feels stifled. I feel stiflied, and I believe I shall be sick, the room is spinning, and I have no ideas what terrors lie ahead. I have a feeling I will get a slow and painful death. I feel that is how Arnaud likes it. He loves to see people suffer. My thoughts drift to my mother.
My sweet mother, I hope she is alright. She probably hasn't been told yet, which is good, unless The Official told my father. It will break her heart, her son being kidnapped. She already has enough trouble with this illness, and the impending divorce. I am sure my father is laughing at this, laughing at her. Her artist, good for nothing, son managed to get himself kidnapped. The son, she had pleaded for him to years, to love, as he has so many people reject him already. The son, he knew was rotten, who would never amount to much, and would always be someone's punching bag, someone's little gopher. The son who painted "indecent pictures" and would the most likely be a drug addict, if he wasn't already.Now, I must die, before I can prove him wrong, though even if everyone in the world told him I had outstanding qualities, and deserved the love he bestowed so generously to Lionel and Susan, he would laugh in their face. He knew his son better than anyone he claims, "My son is a failure." he would proclaim proudly.
I am not a failure, I am not the little mouse, I am not any of the wrong perspections people have of me. I am human and I do make mistakes, and I have sinned, but I did not the belittlement I have always gotten, and I definetly do not need it now. I am going to die, I must face the fact, I am going to die. I may not be able to do much, but I need to look death into the face, and declare myself, "Not a coward!" before I go beyond this world.
The room is cold, the hairs on my arms stand on end. I stand still, I will wait, Arnaud has left to go do something. I must remain calm, and thing of the few good things I was able to secure in my life. I think my biggest happiness is my paintings, the paintings which my mother taught me to do when I was a child, oh course I have surpassed her teachings, but paintings has always been my escape into my reality, and away from everyone else's reality. I wish I could paint one last picture, but it is not the time for that. It is the time to except the circumstances and events of what will be next.
I hear Arnaud's footfalls,as he sets back into the room. "Why hasn't he been strapped to the table, yet?" He says harshly.
The person standing next to me coughs. "I...I ..I was waiting for you."
"Will you get him on the table already, we are getting behind schedule." Oh, great, he had mapped out my death.
They walk me to a examing table and the push me down unto it. I take a deep breath, as they put on the tight leather straps around my ankles, and wrists. I hear a whirring of an electric razor coming to life.
"His clothes are still on him, you fool, turn it off now. I hear the sound of fabric ruffling, as if some was shrugging. I hear one of them, Arnaud I believe, take something out of his pocket. I hear him opening it. It must be a knife. (I find it interesting how my other senses have picked up now, but why didn't they early when I first went blind, before I hit the vase.) He unhooks the straps off my wrists, and pulls me up, ripping off my jacket, and tie. He pushes me back onto the table, restraps my straps. He slings my belt off, making the end hit me hard in the mouth. He begins cutting off my pants. Well, I was right. They leave me in my boxers.
"I thought we were...."Arnaud's lackey stammers.
"No, I have changed my mind, Maybe later." Arnaud snaps.
The razor is turned back on again, the razor touches my chest and I winch. Arnaud slaps me, "Stay still." His ring cuts gashes my check. I almost laugh, as I imagine my brother if he had got his check cut like that, he would be whinning it doesn't match with his perfectly blond hair. They have finished shaving a small circle into on my chest, and they make another one across from it on the other side of my chest. It stings, but I have a feeling it will get worse. I close my eyes, and breath calmly, as they shave one circle one on each arm, and then one on my inner thigh. Sweat has started to pour down my face.They place suction cups on each of the five circles.
"Welcome to stage one of your death. I will ask you a question, and if I don't like the answer, you get to see what this little machine does. " Arnaud tells me, as if I can see it. I can feel him breathing over me. I don't really want to know what the machine does, and glad I cannot see it.
"Since, I have lost the questions for levels 1 and two of this round, I will start with level three.Here is your first question. What do you know of the agency."
"What exactly.........AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" A wave of electricty floods through my body, emulating from the five sensory points. It last for eternity it seems, but it may have only been a few seconds. I feel a cold sweat begin to drip heavily on my body. My whole body tingles. I hear a small metallic click as he turns the wave off. I shut my eyes, and wait quietly for the next question. I have to figure out a way to answer the questions his way, I don't think I can stand many more eletrical currents like that. How am I going to answer the questions right, I don't know, I try to think. I can't answer them, I can't my mind has abandoned me, I can't even remember my name right now.