Please forgive me
Rachel spent that day, a night, and another day in the nurse's care before the officer managed to get his way and pull her back to her cell. By then she had been well cared for, both fed and given enough water. She had recovered a lot of lost energy and had practically felt her strength beginning to seep back to her.
She was ready to do some more defying. And she was already mentally preparing herself for the consequences she knew would come.
The officer dragged her directly to a room he called the "picture room". The cause for the name was obvious. On the walls, from roof to floor, were photos, neatly hanging side by side, and only the fourth and the lower part of the third wall were free, leaving room for more photos. All of them were taken with a simple Polaroid camera, and attached to the wall with a piece of tape.
The room contained a chair and a simple table. A camera was on the table - a Polaroid camera - and the two usual guards stood by the floor. Rachel glanced up into the corners of the room, and to her dismay found that there was an anti-morphing ray there as well.
She forgot that when the more important issue of the officer took her complete attention again. She was shoved down on the chair and he growled at her to stay there.
"See these pictures?" he said, in the same menacing voice. "These are my prisoners. I collect them, you see. But they tend to die, so I take a picture of each to remember. And when they die, I note down what date it was."
He ripped a picture off the wall and threw it at her. She caught it, even though it danced uncontrollably in the air. Then she turned to look at it.
It was Sara. Her eyes, that held an empty look, were sunk into the back of her head, and all signs life gone from pale, bruised her face. There was a date of death in neat handwriting in the corner.
Rachel threw the picture away in disgust, stopping an impulse to leap at the officer's throat. She was shaking with hatred. But the officer would pay. All in due course. There'd be a time for revenge later. .. yes. She'd take out her revenge later.
The officer watched her reaction carefully. "She didn't survive very long," he said casually.
"Where is she now?" Rachel asked in a tight voice.
"I fed her body to the Taxxons, if that's what you mean. They live in the sewers under the building, to discourage escapes that way. And there's one in my office, chained in one of the inner rooms."
Rachel swallowed, and stopped her hands from shaking. "Why do you do this?" she asked. "why… why do you treat people this way?"
He shrugged. "Mostly, because I get paid for it. And partly because… I enjoy it. It's a thrill, my sweet, to see a strong soul finally snap, and know your own work and fists caused it."
"And why? What do you want from your prisoners? What do you want from me? You ask no questions. You don't ask me where my friends are hiding - even if you know I could tell you. You beat me for not doing as I'm told - and just for the sake of it. Not for any real reason. Why?"
"You're asking too many questions," he warned.
"The best way to get rid of a question is to answer it."
"I beat you up to break your spirit. Once that's done - if you survive that long - we'll see to what use you are. In the worst case you'll be good for nothing more than Taxxon food." He shrugged, and lifted the camera from the table. "Now smile."
Rachel put on her best look of defiance and heard the snap from the camera as the photo was taken. The officer picked up the picture of Sara and hung it back on the wall. Then he took the new one - on which a picture of Rachel was slowly developing - and hung it at the end of the lowest, half-filled row on the third wall.
Rachel cast yet another glance at the picture of her sister. Her dead sister. She glared up at the officer, fists beginning to clench. "If I could morph, I'd kill you."
He turned back towards her. "I'm sure you would." He touched the bandage on his face. "You already tried. But you, as a load of others before you, failed."
Rachel stood up. "The next time I'll succeed."
His eyes grew hard. "I told you to stay in that chair."
"So?"
"So sit back down."
But Rachel was in no mood to be a good girl. She held up her visibly clenched fists in front of her and bore her gaze into the officer's cold eyes. "Make me."
The explosion was instantaneous. The officer's eyes flashed in anger, he stepped forwards and grabbed the front of her tattered shirt. Without any visible effort he lifted her right off the ground, held her there, and slapped her across her entire face with his other hand.
Rachel twisted in his grip, strengthened by fury, and kicked off at his chest with both feet. Her shirt was ripped out of his grip and she fell to the floor, landing on hands and knees and already feeling a hand yank at her hair. She cried out but sent up her hands. She found a thumb, pulled it outwards from the hand until the officer was forced to let go. As soon as she was free she was back on her feet, had grabbed a book lying on the desk and threw it at him.
Her aim was bad, but it caught the side of his head and he staggered back, giving her enough time to analyse the situation. The guards were waiting patiently by the door, set on doing nothing until told otherwise. Rachel knew the officer well enough to know that he had taken this personally, and would hopefully keep them out of it. The officer was feeling his head where the book had slammed into it, but was more infuriated than injured.
She suddenly remembered the anti-morphing ray; it was up in a corner, the other end of the room. It was not far to the roof. If she could reach it… it was behind the officer. She could leap up on the desk, and from there… she was a gymnast still, warrior or not. It was an easy leap, and if she got lucky… she would be able to grab hold of it. She would slam right into the wall, but it'd be worth it. If she could destroy that despicable little device…
She could morph. And if she morphed, she could rid the world of the officer. Of the entire building, if she chose to.
She leapt up on the desk and threw herself out into the air, towards the gadget. She could already feel it in her hands, could already see how she crushed it against the wall -
A hand reached up and grabbed her as she passed. It couldn't keep its grip, she had too much momentum to be stopped so easily, but the damage was done - her leap was destroyed. She crashed into the wall and fell down to the floor. She pulled together, every centimetre of her bruised, trying to collect her thoughts.
When she opened her eyes the images were blurred, dancing, not making any sense. But it was the pictures. She was looking at the pictures.
When her eyes started working properly again she didn't believe them.
A familiar face. A familiar face with sad eyes was staring back at her from the photo.
Tobias.
Tobias!
She started to cry from relief of just seeing his face again, from fear of what had happened to him, from… she didn't know. All of a sudden tears were rolling out of her eyes, down her cheeks, and she didn't know why. She stretched out her hands to grab the picture, to look at it closer, but right then the officer grabbed her by her hair and jerked her violently up from the floor.
She kept her eyes on the photo, not hearing the officer's mad roaring, not feeling as he pushed her down into the chair.
She still couldn't believe her eyes.
The photo. Tobias. Tobias.
But she hadn't seen if there was a date of death!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Author's Note;
What? Oh, yes, the note. Hm. For once I don't know what to write. Althought that's actually happening more and more these days...
Rachel spent that day, a night, and another day in the nurse's care before the officer managed to get his way and pull her back to her cell. By then she had been well cared for, both fed and given enough water. She had recovered a lot of lost energy and had practically felt her strength beginning to seep back to her.
She was ready to do some more defying. And she was already mentally preparing herself for the consequences she knew would come.
The officer dragged her directly to a room he called the "picture room". The cause for the name was obvious. On the walls, from roof to floor, were photos, neatly hanging side by side, and only the fourth and the lower part of the third wall were free, leaving room for more photos. All of them were taken with a simple Polaroid camera, and attached to the wall with a piece of tape.
The room contained a chair and a simple table. A camera was on the table - a Polaroid camera - and the two usual guards stood by the floor. Rachel glanced up into the corners of the room, and to her dismay found that there was an anti-morphing ray there as well.
She forgot that when the more important issue of the officer took her complete attention again. She was shoved down on the chair and he growled at her to stay there.
"See these pictures?" he said, in the same menacing voice. "These are my prisoners. I collect them, you see. But they tend to die, so I take a picture of each to remember. And when they die, I note down what date it was."
He ripped a picture off the wall and threw it at her. She caught it, even though it danced uncontrollably in the air. Then she turned to look at it.
It was Sara. Her eyes, that held an empty look, were sunk into the back of her head, and all signs life gone from pale, bruised her face. There was a date of death in neat handwriting in the corner.
Rachel threw the picture away in disgust, stopping an impulse to leap at the officer's throat. She was shaking with hatred. But the officer would pay. All in due course. There'd be a time for revenge later. .. yes. She'd take out her revenge later.
The officer watched her reaction carefully. "She didn't survive very long," he said casually.
"Where is she now?" Rachel asked in a tight voice.
"I fed her body to the Taxxons, if that's what you mean. They live in the sewers under the building, to discourage escapes that way. And there's one in my office, chained in one of the inner rooms."
Rachel swallowed, and stopped her hands from shaking. "Why do you do this?" she asked. "why… why do you treat people this way?"
He shrugged. "Mostly, because I get paid for it. And partly because… I enjoy it. It's a thrill, my sweet, to see a strong soul finally snap, and know your own work and fists caused it."
"And why? What do you want from your prisoners? What do you want from me? You ask no questions. You don't ask me where my friends are hiding - even if you know I could tell you. You beat me for not doing as I'm told - and just for the sake of it. Not for any real reason. Why?"
"You're asking too many questions," he warned.
"The best way to get rid of a question is to answer it."
"I beat you up to break your spirit. Once that's done - if you survive that long - we'll see to what use you are. In the worst case you'll be good for nothing more than Taxxon food." He shrugged, and lifted the camera from the table. "Now smile."
Rachel put on her best look of defiance and heard the snap from the camera as the photo was taken. The officer picked up the picture of Sara and hung it back on the wall. Then he took the new one - on which a picture of Rachel was slowly developing - and hung it at the end of the lowest, half-filled row on the third wall.
Rachel cast yet another glance at the picture of her sister. Her dead sister. She glared up at the officer, fists beginning to clench. "If I could morph, I'd kill you."
He turned back towards her. "I'm sure you would." He touched the bandage on his face. "You already tried. But you, as a load of others before you, failed."
Rachel stood up. "The next time I'll succeed."
His eyes grew hard. "I told you to stay in that chair."
"So?"
"So sit back down."
But Rachel was in no mood to be a good girl. She held up her visibly clenched fists in front of her and bore her gaze into the officer's cold eyes. "Make me."
The explosion was instantaneous. The officer's eyes flashed in anger, he stepped forwards and grabbed the front of her tattered shirt. Without any visible effort he lifted her right off the ground, held her there, and slapped her across her entire face with his other hand.
Rachel twisted in his grip, strengthened by fury, and kicked off at his chest with both feet. Her shirt was ripped out of his grip and she fell to the floor, landing on hands and knees and already feeling a hand yank at her hair. She cried out but sent up her hands. She found a thumb, pulled it outwards from the hand until the officer was forced to let go. As soon as she was free she was back on her feet, had grabbed a book lying on the desk and threw it at him.
Her aim was bad, but it caught the side of his head and he staggered back, giving her enough time to analyse the situation. The guards were waiting patiently by the door, set on doing nothing until told otherwise. Rachel knew the officer well enough to know that he had taken this personally, and would hopefully keep them out of it. The officer was feeling his head where the book had slammed into it, but was more infuriated than injured.
She suddenly remembered the anti-morphing ray; it was up in a corner, the other end of the room. It was not far to the roof. If she could reach it… it was behind the officer. She could leap up on the desk, and from there… she was a gymnast still, warrior or not. It was an easy leap, and if she got lucky… she would be able to grab hold of it. She would slam right into the wall, but it'd be worth it. If she could destroy that despicable little device…
She could morph. And if she morphed, she could rid the world of the officer. Of the entire building, if she chose to.
She leapt up on the desk and threw herself out into the air, towards the gadget. She could already feel it in her hands, could already see how she crushed it against the wall -
A hand reached up and grabbed her as she passed. It couldn't keep its grip, she had too much momentum to be stopped so easily, but the damage was done - her leap was destroyed. She crashed into the wall and fell down to the floor. She pulled together, every centimetre of her bruised, trying to collect her thoughts.
When she opened her eyes the images were blurred, dancing, not making any sense. But it was the pictures. She was looking at the pictures.
When her eyes started working properly again she didn't believe them.
A familiar face. A familiar face with sad eyes was staring back at her from the photo.
Tobias.
Tobias!
She started to cry from relief of just seeing his face again, from fear of what had happened to him, from… she didn't know. All of a sudden tears were rolling out of her eyes, down her cheeks, and she didn't know why. She stretched out her hands to grab the picture, to look at it closer, but right then the officer grabbed her by her hair and jerked her violently up from the floor.
She kept her eyes on the photo, not hearing the officer's mad roaring, not feeling as he pushed her down into the chair.
She still couldn't believe her eyes.
The photo. Tobias. Tobias.
But she hadn't seen if there was a date of death!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Author's Note;
What? Oh, yes, the note. Hm. For once I don't know what to write. Althought that's actually happening more and more these days...