Please forgive me
"Good morning!!!!" a voice yelled in Rachel's ear.
Rachel flinched, an action that put even more strain on the wrists she was hanging from, and opened her eyes.
The officer grinned at her. "Oh," he said. "Look who's awake. I trust you've slept well? Let's hope so, because you're going to need it."
Rachel sighed heavily. She hadn't slept at all, even though she was exhausted, even though her mind was sluggish with weariness. There had been no time for sleep after her capture, two days earlier. And before that she had been hunted by Union officials for almost a week, having them constantly snapping at her heels; to them it had been a game. She considered herself lucky to have been able to doze off a few times during the night - even if it had meant being beaten awake by the guards. The same guards who were now standing behind the officer, grinning almost as broadly as he was.
"Do you want me to let you down again, my sweet?"
Rachel said nothing. The tiredness, the pain in her side, and throbbing ache in her wrists and head kept her from throwing some snappish remark, but she was too proud to let him win by asking anything of him.
"Are you thirsty?"
When Rachel again remained silent, the officer slammed a fist into her stomach that sent her spinning. Geez, the man could hit like a Hork-Bajir! And again, increased pressure on her wrists.
"Answer me!"
Answer? Alright, then, Rachel thought, defiance springing up inside her. She'd answer.
"Go fall off a cliff, dirtbag."
Another blow in the stomach. Only this time, not as hard. "Good," said the officer. "An answer is always good. Remember that. Although that was the wrong answer. Right?"
Rachel tried to turn her head to spit at him, but before she managed his hand was up and slapped her across the face, making her head spin as well as her body, where it hung limply in chains by her wrists.
"Today, I'm going to each you something new," the officer said, motioning to his guards to bring a chair and sitting down in it. "Proper modes of address," he said, smiling. He pointed at the guards. "You don't speak to them. They don't speak to you. The only time you say anything to them, is screaming when they start beating you up."
Rachel didn't even move at the remark, so the officer continued; "And me? Me, you call master. Every time I leave, I want to hear the following sentence; 'Thank you for teaching me respect, master.' Heard me?"
Rachel forced a smile, and felt blood seeping into her mouth from somewhere higher up on her face. She wasn't sure from where. "Forget it."
The officer reached forwards, calmly, grabbed her foot and yanked it down. Rachel bit hard into her lip and clenched her hands. The cuffs' sharp edges had already cut through skin, and now the wound deepened.
"I know you can speak," the officer said, taking a glance at his watch. "So speak up. I want to know you've heard me. Say 'thank you for teaching me respect, master'."
Rachel said nothing. She almost didn't feel when the next fist jammed into her ribs.
"Speak up!"
Silence. A yank at her foot.
"I can't hear you!"
He reached up, took a hold of her throat and pulled back the other fist. Rachel saw the blow hit her face, but she didn't feel it. She didn't feel either when blood trickled down her chin from her nose and mouth. She fell gratefully into a grey fog, only aware her body as a spectator would have been, as if it was far away.
The officer tightened the hold on her throat, and pulled back his fist again, further this time.
"Say something," he ordered.
"Something," Rachel agreed.
A smile spread over the officer's face. The grip on her throat disappeared, and the fist unclenched to pat her cheek gently.
"Good girl," he said. "Now say 'thank you for teaching me respect, master.' And say it before I lose my patience again. I often lose my patience."
Rachel nodded weakly. "Thank you for… teaching me…"
The officer watched her carefully, eyes narrowed, as she took another breath to continue the sentence.
"…how to hate, scumbag, you dirty…"
The officer snatched her foot, yanked down as hard as he could, and Rachel's words were cut off by a scream. She let out a weak sob before a fist jammed into her ribs, making her gasp for air again.
The officer pulled back. "Take her down," he said through gritted teeth. "Now."
The two soldiers did as they were told, letting Rachel fall to the floor. Then they secured the chains again, so her arms still hung upwards but the rest of her was on the floor.
"That, my sweet," the officer said, leaning down over her, a heavy boot pressing down on her forehead. "was the wrong thing to say."
He kicked at her side. Not as hard as he could, but hard enough to make her cry out.
The foot returned to her forehead. "Wasn't it?"
He raised his leg for another kick, but Rachel pulled back from it, sobbing, trying to hide behind her arms.
"It's only words," he continued, and stepped down heavily on her stomach, lifted the other foot off the ground, and remained there for what seemed a very long time before placing down his other foot on the ground again. Rachel's eyes rolled into the back of her head. "After all. Do you know what I believe? I believe that words have no meaning. I believe words are just a way to avoid getting blood on your knuckles."
He leaned over her, smiling. "Only problem is, I like getting blood on my knuckles. So I'm not going to waste any more time talking. You can say those meaningless words and be a good girl, and you might even get some water to drink. Otherwise, I can give my fists the exercise they've been longing for. Did you hear me?"
Rachel didn't move. A foot beat into her side again, and she cried out. She wasn't bothering about keeping her screams to herself anymore.
"Are you going to speak up?" he asked.
Not answering earned her a kick at her head. He waited for a few minutes, knowing that it would take some time before she was aware enough of her surroundings again.
When her eyes fluttered open, he reached down to pull her up by hair, and pulled a fist back so she could see it.
Rachel tried to focus her eyes but failed. "I'll speak… coward," she said.
He ignored the insult and continued. "If you say one wrong word, my sweet, I'll personally beat you until this room is red with blood from floor to roof." He enforced the words by letting her drop to the floor and again kicking roughly at her side. "Got it?"
Rachel nodded. Her gaze was a bit unsteady. She couldn't focus her eyes. She drew a deep breath, preparing to speak, still not sure if she would say what he wanted to hear or some snappish remark.
"Sir!" a voice barked from the cell's doorway. "Sir, they need you in the conference room."
The officer gritted his teeth and glared down at Rachel, indecisive, wondering if it was worth the anger of his superiors to spend some extra time on his prisoner.
"Sir, they said you need to hurry."
"Very well," said the officer, dropping Rachel's head to the floor. "I'm coming. Unchain her, give her some water. She's barely alive as it is now. She's no use dead."
He left the room, giving Rachel one last kick just for his own amusement. She groaned, folded double, and closed her eyes, trying to focus on just breathing, shutting out everything else.
The soldier stayed in the doorway, watching the two guards do what they had been told. Tobias stepped out from behind a bend in the corridor as soon as the muttering officer was gone, and walked up to the doorway. "Thank you," he said lowly to the soldier, making sure the two guards didn't hear him.
"No problem," the soldier replied, although his eyes flickered back and forth uncertainly. "But we both better be gone when he returns."
Tobias nodded and the two left as quickly as they could, disappearing off in different directions.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Author's Note;
There it is, on request. Not that I understand why; I hate this story. I had it hidden away in a WinZip file with about fifteen dozen other half-done stories, that I'm not even going to consider putting up.
But review if you want more of this, I think I got another part somewhere...
"Good morning!!!!" a voice yelled in Rachel's ear.
Rachel flinched, an action that put even more strain on the wrists she was hanging from, and opened her eyes.
The officer grinned at her. "Oh," he said. "Look who's awake. I trust you've slept well? Let's hope so, because you're going to need it."
Rachel sighed heavily. She hadn't slept at all, even though she was exhausted, even though her mind was sluggish with weariness. There had been no time for sleep after her capture, two days earlier. And before that she had been hunted by Union officials for almost a week, having them constantly snapping at her heels; to them it had been a game. She considered herself lucky to have been able to doze off a few times during the night - even if it had meant being beaten awake by the guards. The same guards who were now standing behind the officer, grinning almost as broadly as he was.
"Do you want me to let you down again, my sweet?"
Rachel said nothing. The tiredness, the pain in her side, and throbbing ache in her wrists and head kept her from throwing some snappish remark, but she was too proud to let him win by asking anything of him.
"Are you thirsty?"
When Rachel again remained silent, the officer slammed a fist into her stomach that sent her spinning. Geez, the man could hit like a Hork-Bajir! And again, increased pressure on her wrists.
"Answer me!"
Answer? Alright, then, Rachel thought, defiance springing up inside her. She'd answer.
"Go fall off a cliff, dirtbag."
Another blow in the stomach. Only this time, not as hard. "Good," said the officer. "An answer is always good. Remember that. Although that was the wrong answer. Right?"
Rachel tried to turn her head to spit at him, but before she managed his hand was up and slapped her across the face, making her head spin as well as her body, where it hung limply in chains by her wrists.
"Today, I'm going to each you something new," the officer said, motioning to his guards to bring a chair and sitting down in it. "Proper modes of address," he said, smiling. He pointed at the guards. "You don't speak to them. They don't speak to you. The only time you say anything to them, is screaming when they start beating you up."
Rachel didn't even move at the remark, so the officer continued; "And me? Me, you call master. Every time I leave, I want to hear the following sentence; 'Thank you for teaching me respect, master.' Heard me?"
Rachel forced a smile, and felt blood seeping into her mouth from somewhere higher up on her face. She wasn't sure from where. "Forget it."
The officer reached forwards, calmly, grabbed her foot and yanked it down. Rachel bit hard into her lip and clenched her hands. The cuffs' sharp edges had already cut through skin, and now the wound deepened.
"I know you can speak," the officer said, taking a glance at his watch. "So speak up. I want to know you've heard me. Say 'thank you for teaching me respect, master'."
Rachel said nothing. She almost didn't feel when the next fist jammed into her ribs.
"Speak up!"
Silence. A yank at her foot.
"I can't hear you!"
He reached up, took a hold of her throat and pulled back the other fist. Rachel saw the blow hit her face, but she didn't feel it. She didn't feel either when blood trickled down her chin from her nose and mouth. She fell gratefully into a grey fog, only aware her body as a spectator would have been, as if it was far away.
The officer tightened the hold on her throat, and pulled back his fist again, further this time.
"Say something," he ordered.
"Something," Rachel agreed.
A smile spread over the officer's face. The grip on her throat disappeared, and the fist unclenched to pat her cheek gently.
"Good girl," he said. "Now say 'thank you for teaching me respect, master.' And say it before I lose my patience again. I often lose my patience."
Rachel nodded weakly. "Thank you for… teaching me…"
The officer watched her carefully, eyes narrowed, as she took another breath to continue the sentence.
"…how to hate, scumbag, you dirty…"
The officer snatched her foot, yanked down as hard as he could, and Rachel's words were cut off by a scream. She let out a weak sob before a fist jammed into her ribs, making her gasp for air again.
The officer pulled back. "Take her down," he said through gritted teeth. "Now."
The two soldiers did as they were told, letting Rachel fall to the floor. Then they secured the chains again, so her arms still hung upwards but the rest of her was on the floor.
"That, my sweet," the officer said, leaning down over her, a heavy boot pressing down on her forehead. "was the wrong thing to say."
He kicked at her side. Not as hard as he could, but hard enough to make her cry out.
The foot returned to her forehead. "Wasn't it?"
He raised his leg for another kick, but Rachel pulled back from it, sobbing, trying to hide behind her arms.
"It's only words," he continued, and stepped down heavily on her stomach, lifted the other foot off the ground, and remained there for what seemed a very long time before placing down his other foot on the ground again. Rachel's eyes rolled into the back of her head. "After all. Do you know what I believe? I believe that words have no meaning. I believe words are just a way to avoid getting blood on your knuckles."
He leaned over her, smiling. "Only problem is, I like getting blood on my knuckles. So I'm not going to waste any more time talking. You can say those meaningless words and be a good girl, and you might even get some water to drink. Otherwise, I can give my fists the exercise they've been longing for. Did you hear me?"
Rachel didn't move. A foot beat into her side again, and she cried out. She wasn't bothering about keeping her screams to herself anymore.
"Are you going to speak up?" he asked.
Not answering earned her a kick at her head. He waited for a few minutes, knowing that it would take some time before she was aware enough of her surroundings again.
When her eyes fluttered open, he reached down to pull her up by hair, and pulled a fist back so she could see it.
Rachel tried to focus her eyes but failed. "I'll speak… coward," she said.
He ignored the insult and continued. "If you say one wrong word, my sweet, I'll personally beat you until this room is red with blood from floor to roof." He enforced the words by letting her drop to the floor and again kicking roughly at her side. "Got it?"
Rachel nodded. Her gaze was a bit unsteady. She couldn't focus her eyes. She drew a deep breath, preparing to speak, still not sure if she would say what he wanted to hear or some snappish remark.
"Sir!" a voice barked from the cell's doorway. "Sir, they need you in the conference room."
The officer gritted his teeth and glared down at Rachel, indecisive, wondering if it was worth the anger of his superiors to spend some extra time on his prisoner.
"Sir, they said you need to hurry."
"Very well," said the officer, dropping Rachel's head to the floor. "I'm coming. Unchain her, give her some water. She's barely alive as it is now. She's no use dead."
He left the room, giving Rachel one last kick just for his own amusement. She groaned, folded double, and closed her eyes, trying to focus on just breathing, shutting out everything else.
The soldier stayed in the doorway, watching the two guards do what they had been told. Tobias stepped out from behind a bend in the corridor as soon as the muttering officer was gone, and walked up to the doorway. "Thank you," he said lowly to the soldier, making sure the two guards didn't hear him.
"No problem," the soldier replied, although his eyes flickered back and forth uncertainly. "But we both better be gone when he returns."
Tobias nodded and the two left as quickly as they could, disappearing off in different directions.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Author's Note;
There it is, on request. Not that I understand why; I hate this story. I had it hidden away in a WinZip file with about fifteen dozen other half-done stories, that I'm not even going to consider putting up.
But review if you want more of this, I think I got another part somewhere...