Please forgive me
The heavy door to Rachel's cell was slammed open early the next morning, and the two guards barely waited for her to look up before they were yanking at her hair, kicking at her, pushing her towards the door so she tumbled to the floor, urging her to get up and follow them in every possible way - except for asking nicely. She had spent the night awake, being unable to sleep, the image of that picture haunting her, appearing whenever her eyes closed, making them flash open again.
Tobias was in the prison. Had been, at least. She didn't know. The only way to find out, would be to ask the officer. But the thought itself almost made her burst into giggles.
No, no, that wouldn't do any good. Probably more harm than good, actually; if Tobias was still alive the officer would be able to use the fact that she cared against them. Both of them. The idea was dismissed.
Rachel had thoughts about asking Clara, but knowing the nurse she realised that Clara probably wouldn't answer. She was loyal her work, being a nurse, but that was probably as far as her concern for the prisoners went. She'd do what the prison told her to, and not much more. That piece of porcelain was still hidden in her hair, and that was probably the last drop of luck she had had in getting the nurse on her side.
Rachel was dragged to the room she had been sent to the first day she came to the prison. The white-walled, window-less room, where one wall was a mirror - with surely a room behind it. But Rachel was beyond worrying about that. The officer was sitting behind the same desk as the last time, watching her with the same curious expression, drumming his fingers against each-other, and she was shoved down into the same chair and her arms tied to it, by both wrists and elbows. Rachel glanced around, and to her relief saw no pots of tea. At least something good.
The guards took their customary places by the door and the officer leaned comfortably back in his chair. Rachel stayed still, waiting, almost curious as to what he wanted this time.
He finally sighed and spoke. "Do you have a confession to make, my sweet?"
"I'm not your sweet," came the automatic reply.
His expression flashed in anger, he made a quick jerk of his hand and Rachel felt the chair being pushed to the side until it fell over. She fell with it, landing heavily with one hand between the armrest and the floor. The shock of pain made her cry out. Her weight and the chair's pressed down on her thumb, and three knuckles of her hand.
No-one made any attempt to help her, and no matter how she twisted she could not free her throbbing hand. She only managed to harm it more.
She had to keep a tight leash on herself to avoid beginning to cry.
"Well?" the officer said calmly, untouched by her struggle. "What do you have to say?"
"About what?" she managed.
He rose from his seat and walked over to where her chair had fallen. He stopped there, leaned down over her, regarding her trapped hand with a interested, almost amused expression. "I suppose that hurts," he said conversationally.
Rachel didn't answer him, biting her lip so hard it almost started bleeding.
"I suppose it hurts more if I do this."
He planted a heavy boot on the other armrest and pressed down. More weight on the chair. On the armrest. On Rachel's hand. She cried out again.
He lifted the foot away, eyes alight with anger. "Don't think I'm blind, my sweet," he spat. "I don't miss much. I saw which picture you landed by yesterday. I saw the expression on your face."
Rachel stared up at him.
"Yes, I know about you and Tobias," he confirmed, nodding importantly, bending down and grabbing the front of her shirt. By that grip he lifted her and chair up and placed it back where it had originally been standing. Rachel cast a glance down at her hand, but immediately wished she hadn't. It throbbed with pain, and she couldn't move her three fingers.
"I also know where that bird-brain is!" the officer roared, all of a sudden furious. "I know where that pathetic, cowardly little weasel is right now!" he leaned in closer, glaring into her eyes, hands gripping hers painfully where they were tied to the armrests. "And I know he isn't doing a thing to help you, my sweet. I know he won't move a centimetre without my permission. If I tried to cut your pretty little throat, I know he'd rather help me than try to stop me."
Rachel stared at him, expression blank, mind tumbling.
He was telling the truth. He was telling the truth; you could hear on his voice. The total conviction of his tone, the cold sincerity in his maddened eyes. He was telling him what he himself believed without a doubt.
But it couldn't be true. Couldn't.
He nodded to himself, letting go off the chair and turning around to return to his seat behind the desk. He gave her a moment or two to process the information, to evaluate it. Then he nodded again, certain that he had convinced her, and said; "I cannot let you meet him, of course. It would be a major breech of security, you see, to let two prisoners meet, for even a moment. Especially the two of you."
"He's alive?" Rachel whispered.
He laughed. "You could call it that. His heart still beats. He still breathes. But that's about it; no free will left. None." He laughed again. Rachel, deep in despairing thoughts, missed the sneaky, warning glance at the mirrored wall.
Rachel shook her head slowly. "You're lying."
"I don't lie."
"Liar!" she bellowed, suddenly leaping forwards, chair still tied to her, and with about as much agility as a truck.
He leapt out of his chair, but she didn't even come that far. She was stopped halfway across the desk, just stopped, drained out, and began sobbing helplessly. At a gesture from the officer, the two guards lifted her and the chair back to their place on the floor.
The officer took a grip on her hair and lifted her upwards by it until she cried out. "Now then," he said, giving an extra yank before putting her down. "am I a liar?"
She quenched a sob and her head jerked in a motion that might have been a nod.
He promptly slapped her. Her head was thrown to the side, she tasted blood from her cracked lips, and her face went numb. The chair wobbled dangerously, but kept upright.
"Well?" the officer demanded. "What am I?"
"A liar," she sobbed. "Tobias would never -"
He slammed the chair to the side and it fell, again landing on her mistreated and bloody hand. She screamed in pain, but he made no attempts to lift her back up, and instead aimed a kick at her chest.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!!"
"Liar!" she screamed helplessly. "A wretched -"
Another kick at her chest. The chair rocked back and then slammed down on her hand again. She threw her head back, almost unaware of the anguished sound that came out her throat.
"What was that?"
"Li -"
Another kick. All air out of her lungs. The chair rocked back and landed with the backrest down. Her head slammed down to the floor, and the officer's boot kicked at the chair's side until it tipped over again, ending up with her standing on her knees and chin, the chair above her, its back cutting into her neck and her arms unable to help her, tied to the armrests that stood firmly on the floor and balanced the chair, making sure she didn't just push it up again.
"Tobias… wouldn't…"
The officer took a hand and pressed the chair down, against her neck, making it unbearable to speak. She tried to draw a breath but that, too, was almost impossible.
She heard him take a couple of deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. "Well then, my sweet," he said finally, through gritted teeth. "we seem to have a very interesting situation here. You see, if I press this chair downwards hard enough, your neck will snap. On the other hand, I don't want you dead, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't really mind being killed. Too much of a warrior in you. So what do we do?"
Rachel concentrated on breathing, still unable to speak.
"I suggest this. I forgive you this… little spectacle… you just caused. And you take back calling me a liar. Maybe I'll even tell you how the bird-brain's doing. Otherwise, I've got nothing against leaving you there, under that chair." He smiled cruelly. "It is an awfully heavy chair, isn't it?" straightening again, he continued; "I'll have one of the guards make sure you don't get up, you'll never hear another word about your beloved Tobias -" the name was a sneer "- and I'll see you in the morning. Personally, I'll have a good night's sleep and a meal, I think. I'm getting hungry. So what do you think? Will you take that horrible word back?"
He lifted the chair's backrest up enough to allow her to reply. She said "yes," in a strangled voice, seeing no reason to refuse.
The chair was again lifted, this time almost gently, and again put back on its place.
"There," he said, smiling. "Good girl. That wasn't so bad, now was it?"
Rachel, feeling that one battle was lost but not planning to let him notice she thought so, spat at his face. The familiar flash of anger appeared, and she jerked back from a blow - a blow that never came. Instead, there was a cold smile, and the officer pulled back her head by her hair.
He pulled a finger along the edge of her forehead, ignoring the hardened wad of green chewing gum that still stuck to her hair, from the day she had first met him. His finger continued down the side of her face, circling once over her cheek, and finally tapped her lips. His other hand held her head back firmly, but now he shook it from side to side, tsk-ing to himself.
"You're a very pretty girl, my sweet, and pretty girls don't do well in prisons with male officers. Remember that the next time you feel rebellious." He leaned closer to her ear and whispered; "Remember it well."
With that, he took a harsh grip on her jaw, lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers, pressing her head back so far that the backrest cut painfully into her neck, again threatening to snap it. She struggled desperately to get away, but the only thing she managed to do was to make his grip on her face harden in anger. She had no choice but to wait until he let go.
He did, eventually. He pulled back, staring down at her with the same maddened gaze he'd had the time he had given her that unexpected meal, the morning after she had cut him with that piece of porcelain.
Immediately afterwards Rachel was freed from the chair and led - almost carried, because she was wobbling - out of the room by the two guards, feeling numb, and a great need to clean her face. With water, and lots of soap. But she knew they wouldn't provide that for her.
"Tobias!" the officer bellowed, sitting down in his chair.
Tobias came into the room from behind the mirrored glass wall. His face was white with anger, and his hands clenched - although he was trying not to show it. "Don't… you… touch her… ever again."
The officer turned to look at him. There was no anger, no fear, no nothing. That was more frightening than if he had looked angry, and he knew that. "You, birdbrain, aren't here to tell me what to do. ARE YOU?!"
Tobias bowed down his head to hide his face from the officer's furious gaze, and quickly hid his clenching hands behind his back. But his normally meek voice was almost a snarl. "No, master."
The officer nodded, pleased, if only for the moment. "Then will you keep your mouth shut?"
"Yes, master."
"And do as you're told?"
"Yes…" the officer raised an eyebrow and Tobias quickly added "master".
"Remember that the days you shared with that one are long over. She's my prisoner now, and what I choose to do to her is my choice and no-one else's." he glared threateningly at Tobias, who didn't dare meet that gaze; out of fear that the officer would see the fury in his eyes. "You're not in any position to protect her, birdbrain. Are you?"
"No, master."
"Good," the officer said, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the table. "Remember our little talk. The first trace of rebellion from you, and she's the one who gets to feel fists."
Tobias swallowed a sharp word and said; "Yes, master."
"Very good, birdbrain. You may leave."
Tobias turned and started towards the door, almost growling the customary "Thank you for teaching me respect, master" as he opened it.
"Oh, and birdbrain?" the officer said suddenly. Tobias turned around to see him smiling provocatively. He was having difficulty controlling his anger even before the officer spoke: "Your girlfriend has very soft lips. I'm sure you've noticed that."
That was all Tobias could take. His head snapped up, his fists were raised, and he took a menacing step forwards, ready to leap at the officer, ready to rip the man's heart out with only his hands, ready to twist his neck until it snapped, if he had to, if he was given half a chance, and care nothing for the consequences.
The officer stood up. That was all he needed to do. Stand up, and lean his head to the side, staring down at the former Animorph with an expression that said exactly what would happen if Tobias took another step.
But Tobias stopped dead in his tracks, immediately unclenching his hands and lowering his face in submission, trying to quench the trembling, caused by his anger. The officer snarled a single word, and Tobias obeyed, turning and fleeing out of the room.
But as soon as he was sure he wasn't being followed, he headed towards Clara's clinic.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Author's Note;
And that's where this story ends. *insert loud evil laugh here*
Well, honestly, there're a few more chapters. One or two, maybe three. Or four. Haven't counted them.
The next one will be up soon. Or not. * runs around pulling hair and screaming "Aargh! Time! Time! Who's got the time?!". Then calms down. Almost.*
(Extra note; oh, look at that, I didn't ask for reviews! *hm. better check for a fever.*)
The heavy door to Rachel's cell was slammed open early the next morning, and the two guards barely waited for her to look up before they were yanking at her hair, kicking at her, pushing her towards the door so she tumbled to the floor, urging her to get up and follow them in every possible way - except for asking nicely. She had spent the night awake, being unable to sleep, the image of that picture haunting her, appearing whenever her eyes closed, making them flash open again.
Tobias was in the prison. Had been, at least. She didn't know. The only way to find out, would be to ask the officer. But the thought itself almost made her burst into giggles.
No, no, that wouldn't do any good. Probably more harm than good, actually; if Tobias was still alive the officer would be able to use the fact that she cared against them. Both of them. The idea was dismissed.
Rachel had thoughts about asking Clara, but knowing the nurse she realised that Clara probably wouldn't answer. She was loyal her work, being a nurse, but that was probably as far as her concern for the prisoners went. She'd do what the prison told her to, and not much more. That piece of porcelain was still hidden in her hair, and that was probably the last drop of luck she had had in getting the nurse on her side.
Rachel was dragged to the room she had been sent to the first day she came to the prison. The white-walled, window-less room, where one wall was a mirror - with surely a room behind it. But Rachel was beyond worrying about that. The officer was sitting behind the same desk as the last time, watching her with the same curious expression, drumming his fingers against each-other, and she was shoved down into the same chair and her arms tied to it, by both wrists and elbows. Rachel glanced around, and to her relief saw no pots of tea. At least something good.
The guards took their customary places by the door and the officer leaned comfortably back in his chair. Rachel stayed still, waiting, almost curious as to what he wanted this time.
He finally sighed and spoke. "Do you have a confession to make, my sweet?"
"I'm not your sweet," came the automatic reply.
His expression flashed in anger, he made a quick jerk of his hand and Rachel felt the chair being pushed to the side until it fell over. She fell with it, landing heavily with one hand between the armrest and the floor. The shock of pain made her cry out. Her weight and the chair's pressed down on her thumb, and three knuckles of her hand.
No-one made any attempt to help her, and no matter how she twisted she could not free her throbbing hand. She only managed to harm it more.
She had to keep a tight leash on herself to avoid beginning to cry.
"Well?" the officer said calmly, untouched by her struggle. "What do you have to say?"
"About what?" she managed.
He rose from his seat and walked over to where her chair had fallen. He stopped there, leaned down over her, regarding her trapped hand with a interested, almost amused expression. "I suppose that hurts," he said conversationally.
Rachel didn't answer him, biting her lip so hard it almost started bleeding.
"I suppose it hurts more if I do this."
He planted a heavy boot on the other armrest and pressed down. More weight on the chair. On the armrest. On Rachel's hand. She cried out again.
He lifted the foot away, eyes alight with anger. "Don't think I'm blind, my sweet," he spat. "I don't miss much. I saw which picture you landed by yesterday. I saw the expression on your face."
Rachel stared up at him.
"Yes, I know about you and Tobias," he confirmed, nodding importantly, bending down and grabbing the front of her shirt. By that grip he lifted her and chair up and placed it back where it had originally been standing. Rachel cast a glance down at her hand, but immediately wished she hadn't. It throbbed with pain, and she couldn't move her three fingers.
"I also know where that bird-brain is!" the officer roared, all of a sudden furious. "I know where that pathetic, cowardly little weasel is right now!" he leaned in closer, glaring into her eyes, hands gripping hers painfully where they were tied to the armrests. "And I know he isn't doing a thing to help you, my sweet. I know he won't move a centimetre without my permission. If I tried to cut your pretty little throat, I know he'd rather help me than try to stop me."
Rachel stared at him, expression blank, mind tumbling.
He was telling the truth. He was telling the truth; you could hear on his voice. The total conviction of his tone, the cold sincerity in his maddened eyes. He was telling him what he himself believed without a doubt.
But it couldn't be true. Couldn't.
He nodded to himself, letting go off the chair and turning around to return to his seat behind the desk. He gave her a moment or two to process the information, to evaluate it. Then he nodded again, certain that he had convinced her, and said; "I cannot let you meet him, of course. It would be a major breech of security, you see, to let two prisoners meet, for even a moment. Especially the two of you."
"He's alive?" Rachel whispered.
He laughed. "You could call it that. His heart still beats. He still breathes. But that's about it; no free will left. None." He laughed again. Rachel, deep in despairing thoughts, missed the sneaky, warning glance at the mirrored wall.
Rachel shook her head slowly. "You're lying."
"I don't lie."
"Liar!" she bellowed, suddenly leaping forwards, chair still tied to her, and with about as much agility as a truck.
He leapt out of his chair, but she didn't even come that far. She was stopped halfway across the desk, just stopped, drained out, and began sobbing helplessly. At a gesture from the officer, the two guards lifted her and the chair back to their place on the floor.
The officer took a grip on her hair and lifted her upwards by it until she cried out. "Now then," he said, giving an extra yank before putting her down. "am I a liar?"
She quenched a sob and her head jerked in a motion that might have been a nod.
He promptly slapped her. Her head was thrown to the side, she tasted blood from her cracked lips, and her face went numb. The chair wobbled dangerously, but kept upright.
"Well?" the officer demanded. "What am I?"
"A liar," she sobbed. "Tobias would never -"
He slammed the chair to the side and it fell, again landing on her mistreated and bloody hand. She screamed in pain, but he made no attempts to lift her back up, and instead aimed a kick at her chest.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!!"
"Liar!" she screamed helplessly. "A wretched -"
Another kick at her chest. The chair rocked back and then slammed down on her hand again. She threw her head back, almost unaware of the anguished sound that came out her throat.
"What was that?"
"Li -"
Another kick. All air out of her lungs. The chair rocked back and landed with the backrest down. Her head slammed down to the floor, and the officer's boot kicked at the chair's side until it tipped over again, ending up with her standing on her knees and chin, the chair above her, its back cutting into her neck and her arms unable to help her, tied to the armrests that stood firmly on the floor and balanced the chair, making sure she didn't just push it up again.
"Tobias… wouldn't…"
The officer took a hand and pressed the chair down, against her neck, making it unbearable to speak. She tried to draw a breath but that, too, was almost impossible.
She heard him take a couple of deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. "Well then, my sweet," he said finally, through gritted teeth. "we seem to have a very interesting situation here. You see, if I press this chair downwards hard enough, your neck will snap. On the other hand, I don't want you dead, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't really mind being killed. Too much of a warrior in you. So what do we do?"
Rachel concentrated on breathing, still unable to speak.
"I suggest this. I forgive you this… little spectacle… you just caused. And you take back calling me a liar. Maybe I'll even tell you how the bird-brain's doing. Otherwise, I've got nothing against leaving you there, under that chair." He smiled cruelly. "It is an awfully heavy chair, isn't it?" straightening again, he continued; "I'll have one of the guards make sure you don't get up, you'll never hear another word about your beloved Tobias -" the name was a sneer "- and I'll see you in the morning. Personally, I'll have a good night's sleep and a meal, I think. I'm getting hungry. So what do you think? Will you take that horrible word back?"
He lifted the chair's backrest up enough to allow her to reply. She said "yes," in a strangled voice, seeing no reason to refuse.
The chair was again lifted, this time almost gently, and again put back on its place.
"There," he said, smiling. "Good girl. That wasn't so bad, now was it?"
Rachel, feeling that one battle was lost but not planning to let him notice she thought so, spat at his face. The familiar flash of anger appeared, and she jerked back from a blow - a blow that never came. Instead, there was a cold smile, and the officer pulled back her head by her hair.
He pulled a finger along the edge of her forehead, ignoring the hardened wad of green chewing gum that still stuck to her hair, from the day she had first met him. His finger continued down the side of her face, circling once over her cheek, and finally tapped her lips. His other hand held her head back firmly, but now he shook it from side to side, tsk-ing to himself.
"You're a very pretty girl, my sweet, and pretty girls don't do well in prisons with male officers. Remember that the next time you feel rebellious." He leaned closer to her ear and whispered; "Remember it well."
With that, he took a harsh grip on her jaw, lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers, pressing her head back so far that the backrest cut painfully into her neck, again threatening to snap it. She struggled desperately to get away, but the only thing she managed to do was to make his grip on her face harden in anger. She had no choice but to wait until he let go.
He did, eventually. He pulled back, staring down at her with the same maddened gaze he'd had the time he had given her that unexpected meal, the morning after she had cut him with that piece of porcelain.
Immediately afterwards Rachel was freed from the chair and led - almost carried, because she was wobbling - out of the room by the two guards, feeling numb, and a great need to clean her face. With water, and lots of soap. But she knew they wouldn't provide that for her.
"Tobias!" the officer bellowed, sitting down in his chair.
Tobias came into the room from behind the mirrored glass wall. His face was white with anger, and his hands clenched - although he was trying not to show it. "Don't… you… touch her… ever again."
The officer turned to look at him. There was no anger, no fear, no nothing. That was more frightening than if he had looked angry, and he knew that. "You, birdbrain, aren't here to tell me what to do. ARE YOU?!"
Tobias bowed down his head to hide his face from the officer's furious gaze, and quickly hid his clenching hands behind his back. But his normally meek voice was almost a snarl. "No, master."
The officer nodded, pleased, if only for the moment. "Then will you keep your mouth shut?"
"Yes, master."
"And do as you're told?"
"Yes…" the officer raised an eyebrow and Tobias quickly added "master".
"Remember that the days you shared with that one are long over. She's my prisoner now, and what I choose to do to her is my choice and no-one else's." he glared threateningly at Tobias, who didn't dare meet that gaze; out of fear that the officer would see the fury in his eyes. "You're not in any position to protect her, birdbrain. Are you?"
"No, master."
"Good," the officer said, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the table. "Remember our little talk. The first trace of rebellion from you, and she's the one who gets to feel fists."
Tobias swallowed a sharp word and said; "Yes, master."
"Very good, birdbrain. You may leave."
Tobias turned and started towards the door, almost growling the customary "Thank you for teaching me respect, master" as he opened it.
"Oh, and birdbrain?" the officer said suddenly. Tobias turned around to see him smiling provocatively. He was having difficulty controlling his anger even before the officer spoke: "Your girlfriend has very soft lips. I'm sure you've noticed that."
That was all Tobias could take. His head snapped up, his fists were raised, and he took a menacing step forwards, ready to leap at the officer, ready to rip the man's heart out with only his hands, ready to twist his neck until it snapped, if he had to, if he was given half a chance, and care nothing for the consequences.
The officer stood up. That was all he needed to do. Stand up, and lean his head to the side, staring down at the former Animorph with an expression that said exactly what would happen if Tobias took another step.
But Tobias stopped dead in his tracks, immediately unclenching his hands and lowering his face in submission, trying to quench the trembling, caused by his anger. The officer snarled a single word, and Tobias obeyed, turning and fleeing out of the room.
But as soon as he was sure he wasn't being followed, he headed towards Clara's clinic.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Author's Note;
And that's where this story ends. *insert loud evil laugh here*
Well, honestly, there're a few more chapters. One or two, maybe three. Or four. Haven't counted them.
The next one will be up soon. Or not. * runs around pulling hair and screaming "Aargh! Time! Time! Who's got the time?!". Then calms down. Almost.*
(Extra note; oh, look at that, I didn't ask for reviews! *hm. better check for a fever.*)