Chapter 17 - by Sugar Faerie

Charlotte

The stupid thing about this situation is; I really don't know anything. They can interrogate me as much as they want, torture me as much as they see fit, and I still won't tell them a thing.

Not that they give up easily.

"So, Miss Church," the man in front of me says. "Are you going to talk to us?"

"No," I reply. No sense in lying.

My interrogator's a higher rank of SP, much higher than the guards back at the cells. They're not involved with our treatment, their job is only to get information from us. Unlike the guards, that's also all they're interested in.

The man sneers. "Please, Miss Church. Don't make me have to hurt you." He raises his baton.

Dispite what he's suggesting, I actually have to laugh at that. Doesn't he have any idea what goes on down there, what we've been through? That what some of us have experienced makes a low-frequency shock seem lame?

The guards behind me have a bit of a giggle at that, too. He glares at them, and they obediently shut up.

There's voices outside the interrogation room, two SP are arguing. "Why did you have to do that? There's no way she'll talk now."

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist..."

"Well, try and resist! You could have killed her!"

"Oh, now that's a bit extreme... I wouldn't have killed her. I know my orders."

The first voice sighs. "Well, obey them! She's in solitary, there's a limit on what you can do to her!"

"I know... it was hard to remember that..."

Oh no, who are they referring to now? My interrogator raises an eyebrow as he realises I'm listening in. "Miss Church? Worried about someone?"

The SP are still arguing. The first voice is male, the second a spiteful sounding female.

"Okay, spread the word that from now on, the blonde's off limits. As long as she's not too damaged she might say something."

Oz? She won't say anything, no matter what they do to her.

"She won't talk," the female voice says, echoing my thoughts. "She's too stubborn."

"She will."

My interrogator's stepped back, watching me with amusement. I wonder if he's trying to guess what's going through my mind right now. Keep guessing. I won't tell you.

"What about the other girl? Do we need her?" It's the woman again.

"You mean the one in red? Nah, she's free for use, if she's not dead already."

Madonna... no...

The interrogator smiles at my horrified expression, and leans his hands on the table in front of me.

"So, Miss Church, it seems your friend's in trouble... I assume you're ready to talk."