Jack struggled to control his haggard breathing as he noticed three of the four soldiers stand behind him threateningly. He'd already been scared, the fear was eating him up. He was determined not to show it though he didn't know how well he was hiding it as he wiped his sweaty palms on the thin material covering him.
He was distracted from the thoughts in his mind, the ones pleading for him to be strong and face whatever it is they wanted to throw at him. He wasn't sure he could comply with his prides demands, part of him was glad of the distraction in his attention.
The man Chow played with a gold button on his uniform as he eyed up the prisoner. He opened his mouth to speak, and the cell fell silent. The air seemed to be still as the man spoke in his perfected English. Jack paid attention to his every word, trying to assess what they meant; the soldiers remained silent out of both respect and fear of punishment.
"I am a fair man, its something I pride myself on."
He stopped and leaned over in the chair as though he could somehow read the weak mans thoughts. He was waiting for a reaction, so Jack simply nodded, ignoring the urge to spit in the mans face instead. It would do him no good to provoke the attackers.
Satisfied with the response he continued.
"As I am such a honest man, that I am giving you a choice of what happens next."
Again he stared, making Jack even more uncomfortable than the words he spoke. He was having trouble concentrating on the man, his eyes were drooping - already wanting to pass out. He was too soft spoken, Jack willed himself to pay attention knowing the punishment would be sever if he didn't.
"Okay," he almost whispered, his throats soreness making his voice hoarse and rough.
"Good. I hope you appreciate my kindness - you like all prisoners are undeserving of it, but I have morals."
This time Jack could only stare in response, his eyes hardened and his jaw clenched, despite the pain it caused in his beaten, swollen face. The man didn't value human life - how could he be a just and moral man?
"Two options Jack, you select which one is most favourable to yourself," he said in a matter of fact tone, getting up from his chair now to pace before the man on the floor. He was clearly enjoying being the host of the show which was about to ensue.
He nodded to his associate who pulled out a sledge hammer, holding it with two hands to emphasise its weight to Jack, who was now sweating more heavily on the floor at the sight of the object.
"I don't like disobedient prisoners… In fact I despise them almost as much as I do Americans. Unfortunately for you, you fall into both categories."
Jack was about to speak, try and protest his innocence somehow, but he snapped his mouth shut as soon as it opened. He wouldn't give them what they wanted to see - panic, fear, desperation - he wouldn't show them any of it, even if each emotion was swirling around in his mind frantically. He couldn't take his eyes from the worn sledgehammer, even as Chow began to speak again, his tone deliberately slow and menacing.
"That foot looks sore," he said as he peered over at it, "you should get it checked out."
A smile broke over his face and the laugh soon followed. The soldiers joined in, not understanding what had been said but knowing they had to keep the man satisfied. Jack tried to shut it out form his ears, he could remember the same laugh infiltrating his senses last time, as he had struggled to stay conscious despite the blow after blow he had taken. The look of anger which filled his eyes was infectious, as Chows laugh abruptly stopped as he snapped out more words in his prissy accent as he spoke a language Jack was sure he didn't deserve to have mastered.
"First question Jack, and it's a nice simple one; multiple choice," he mocked. "This weapon," he said motioning his head to the burly man grasping it, "can cause sever bodily harm. Would you like your kneecap to experience this, or your hand. Decide now."
Jack looked up at the man shocked, what they hell was this? He stuttered as he tried to find the words to speak, but he couldn't find them. He didn't want them to do anything to his kneecap or his hand - why were they doing this? Chows smile disappeared when he saw the confusion on Jack face. He nodded to the men behind him before addressing them formally.
Jack felt the impact of the command instantly, as he was pinned down to the ground heavily by two of the guards. The third stomped down on his foot hard, the pain was more intense than he thought possible as every nerve roared in pain. The scream was loud, the pressure on his throat from the force incredible. He felt the pain send twinges up and down his spine as he tried to control it, but it was too much. The foot was brought down again and tears sprang to his eyes as he gasped in pain, unable to scream anymore. His throat felt as though it had been ripped down the middle - like his foot it couldn't take any more. He would have to suffer in silence.
His vision went dark and he prayed for it to take him away, to make the pain stop - even if just for a small period of time. Then Chow was shouting at him, warning him of the consequences of passing out - waking up to see he had no foot left at all. Jack knew he wasn't joking and would make good on his threat - the fear of the consequences was stronger than the pain as the boot came down a third time.
The soldiers scattered away as the man began to gip, saliva falling from his mouth as he gasped in pain, heavy wheezing sounds came from his mouth - it was all he could do as the pain took over his ability to think. Tears streamed down his face, in anger more than the pain of the abuse - anger that this was out of his control, that he couldn't stop them. Anger at the men for hurting him and his inability to protect himself. Anger at himself, for beginning to think that he deserved this.