CHAPTER 8: GETTING FREE (FIRST PART)
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Wednesday Morning.
I woke up many times during the night, afraid that they would come again and beat me more. But I think they realized I wouldn't be very useful dead -they needed me alive- which proved that they were not done with me yet.they were going to ask me again, in their own way, where the chip was.
I will be a dead man before I utter a word of its location.
I already know I *am* a dead man, for I will not last long in such circumstances, and it doesn't scare me that much. Scully and I have both come across that feeling so many times already that it will not come to me as a gruesome surprise.it is more likely to be my salvation in this world that I'm living in right now. A world of pain, suffering, fear and angst.
The ground is cold against my cheek, and I feel myself trembling. I manage to put my no-longer-tied hands from my chest, and I try to lift myself on my knees before my ribs -or what was left of them- send me flat on the floor once again, my teeth gritted in pain.
I drag myself back against the wall and rest my head against it, already completely exhausted from the slow movements. I understand now that it was no use to bind my hands and feet: I can't go very far.
A cursory check on myself reveals that I plainly hurt everywhere. Apparently the men had continued to beat me after I had lapsed into unconsciousness. My legs, my back, my chest and abdomen, everything is a mass of welts, bruises, and broken skin.
My whole left arm feels as if it is on fire. Dislocated shoulder? Probably. Before I could finish cataloguing my injuries, I involuntarily shifted to try to relieve some of the pressure on the arm and shoulder. I immediately know that it is a mistake when I hear a voice coming from behind the door saying:
"Oh, look, he's awake again."
Pretty bad idea to have moved. I curse silently in my head, because I know I'm not ready to take some more punches in the stomach right now. My mouth is very dry, and I find myself feeling very thirsty. Hungry? The very thought of *eating* something makes me want to vomit -again.
The three same men as yesterday enter the room, and switch on the light. I close my eyes briefly, but I can feel that my head is not far from explosion: it's as if my brain is trying to escape from its secure nest.
Dammit.I won't get very far if a simple light makes me feel this way!
I grip my left shoulder with my right arm, trying to protect it from the kicks that are probably going to fly shortly. I think they saw my reaction, because the leader of the three men -the one who's asking questions- advances toward me and bends forward.
"My, my. I think your shoulder is dislocated. Poor guy.you must be in terrible pain!"
I can see him smiling, but as he speaks to the others, he fakes concern.
"It's not safe to let it that way." he starts, trying to get nearer while his gorillas are also approaching.
".he could injure himself and bleed to death. We have to do *something* to ease his pain."
His eyes are glowing with sparks, and panic gets the better of me for a moment. I focus on my breathing in a concerted effort to calm myself, and finally manage to choke out:
"Don't touch it! Leave it that way.it's..okay."
"Okay? Are you kidding?"
I am now literally lifted from my secure ball-like position from the floor by the gorillas who are using whatever part of my body they can reach -neck, hair, chin- to put me first on my knees, then on my shaky legs. They don't even try to see if I can stand by myself as they leave their arms securely around my waist.
"I've got good news.and bad news, Fox. Which one do you want first?"
I don't answer and he doesn't seem to mind, his smile still playing on his lips.
"Well, maybe the good news will cheer you up: I was trained by a medical doctor.so don't worry, it will be a clean operation and I'll proceed just once."
I stop breathing. He was putting my shoulder back in its socket, like that?! My God.if there is anything left in my stomach, it is a good time for coming out!
His smile fades, and he acts like if he is going to announce me someone's death or something.
"Now, the bad news. I'm afraid we don't have anything to inject you as an anaesthetic. Not even alcohol to let you drink. Anyway, I heard you're not a great drinker, are you Fox?"
I wish I could call him a bastard, a son of a bitch, a fucking freak.but no sound can escape my mouth. As he orders his gorillas to hold me very tight and manages without too much struggle to take my left arm in his, I stay impassive and very quiet.
"You be a good boy and we'll leave you alone for the rest of the day. In one movement it will be over."
He was right: one movement and everything is over. My body explodes in agony and time seems to slow as I watch the floor racing upward to catch me. I gasp -"Scully"- the name doesn't escape my lips, but my mind was screaming it unceasingly in burning fury. It was a primal reaction to pain, and need, and the bedrock knowledge that only one thing - one person- could save me now.
I thrash on the floor, giving in fully to the mindless panic that had been threatening to overtake me since this whole ordeal began. "Scully, Scully, I'm here, Scully." I cry in my head, over and over again.
It is fortunate the pain and the panic and the fear are enough that I feel the blackness of unconsciousness beckoning me. Once again, I fall gratefully into her welcoming arms.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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Wednesday Morning.
I woke up many times during the night, afraid that they would come again and beat me more. But I think they realized I wouldn't be very useful dead -they needed me alive- which proved that they were not done with me yet.they were going to ask me again, in their own way, where the chip was.
I will be a dead man before I utter a word of its location.
I already know I *am* a dead man, for I will not last long in such circumstances, and it doesn't scare me that much. Scully and I have both come across that feeling so many times already that it will not come to me as a gruesome surprise.it is more likely to be my salvation in this world that I'm living in right now. A world of pain, suffering, fear and angst.
The ground is cold against my cheek, and I feel myself trembling. I manage to put my no-longer-tied hands from my chest, and I try to lift myself on my knees before my ribs -or what was left of them- send me flat on the floor once again, my teeth gritted in pain.
I drag myself back against the wall and rest my head against it, already completely exhausted from the slow movements. I understand now that it was no use to bind my hands and feet: I can't go very far.
A cursory check on myself reveals that I plainly hurt everywhere. Apparently the men had continued to beat me after I had lapsed into unconsciousness. My legs, my back, my chest and abdomen, everything is a mass of welts, bruises, and broken skin.
My whole left arm feels as if it is on fire. Dislocated shoulder? Probably. Before I could finish cataloguing my injuries, I involuntarily shifted to try to relieve some of the pressure on the arm and shoulder. I immediately know that it is a mistake when I hear a voice coming from behind the door saying:
"Oh, look, he's awake again."
Pretty bad idea to have moved. I curse silently in my head, because I know I'm not ready to take some more punches in the stomach right now. My mouth is very dry, and I find myself feeling very thirsty. Hungry? The very thought of *eating* something makes me want to vomit -again.
The three same men as yesterday enter the room, and switch on the light. I close my eyes briefly, but I can feel that my head is not far from explosion: it's as if my brain is trying to escape from its secure nest.
Dammit.I won't get very far if a simple light makes me feel this way!
I grip my left shoulder with my right arm, trying to protect it from the kicks that are probably going to fly shortly. I think they saw my reaction, because the leader of the three men -the one who's asking questions- advances toward me and bends forward.
"My, my. I think your shoulder is dislocated. Poor guy.you must be in terrible pain!"
I can see him smiling, but as he speaks to the others, he fakes concern.
"It's not safe to let it that way." he starts, trying to get nearer while his gorillas are also approaching.
".he could injure himself and bleed to death. We have to do *something* to ease his pain."
His eyes are glowing with sparks, and panic gets the better of me for a moment. I focus on my breathing in a concerted effort to calm myself, and finally manage to choke out:
"Don't touch it! Leave it that way.it's..okay."
"Okay? Are you kidding?"
I am now literally lifted from my secure ball-like position from the floor by the gorillas who are using whatever part of my body they can reach -neck, hair, chin- to put me first on my knees, then on my shaky legs. They don't even try to see if I can stand by myself as they leave their arms securely around my waist.
"I've got good news.and bad news, Fox. Which one do you want first?"
I don't answer and he doesn't seem to mind, his smile still playing on his lips.
"Well, maybe the good news will cheer you up: I was trained by a medical doctor.so don't worry, it will be a clean operation and I'll proceed just once."
I stop breathing. He was putting my shoulder back in its socket, like that?! My God.if there is anything left in my stomach, it is a good time for coming out!
His smile fades, and he acts like if he is going to announce me someone's death or something.
"Now, the bad news. I'm afraid we don't have anything to inject you as an anaesthetic. Not even alcohol to let you drink. Anyway, I heard you're not a great drinker, are you Fox?"
I wish I could call him a bastard, a son of a bitch, a fucking freak.but no sound can escape my mouth. As he orders his gorillas to hold me very tight and manages without too much struggle to take my left arm in his, I stay impassive and very quiet.
"You be a good boy and we'll leave you alone for the rest of the day. In one movement it will be over."
He was right: one movement and everything is over. My body explodes in agony and time seems to slow as I watch the floor racing upward to catch me. I gasp -"Scully"- the name doesn't escape my lips, but my mind was screaming it unceasingly in burning fury. It was a primal reaction to pain, and need, and the bedrock knowledge that only one thing - one person- could save me now.
I thrash on the floor, giving in fully to the mindless panic that had been threatening to overtake me since this whole ordeal began. "Scully, Scully, I'm here, Scully." I cry in my head, over and over again.
It is fortunate the pain and the panic and the fear are enough that I feel the blackness of unconsciousness beckoning me. Once again, I fall gratefully into her welcoming arms.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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