TAYLOR

The torture room isn't what I expected. I'm surrounded by smooth, white walls and nothing else -- no furniture, no doors, no windows. Just a blinding cube of white light. I have a dull headache from the lingering anesthesia, but I've gotten used to that by now. Since I woke up here, I can reasonably assume that I was taken from my cell sometime during the night by Robotnik's forces. For the moment, though, it appears that I'm the only one in the room.

But not for long. To the left of me, I see a tall, rectangular panel in the wall recede into the ceiling with a subtle hiss. A short, bald, needle-nosed man enters the room, flanked by a number of armed SWATbots. "Good evening," he says. His voice matches his appearance perfectly. "Do you know who I am?"

As I stand, my breathing is slow and tempered. "You're Snively."

"Correct. We can dismiss the introductions, then." He makes a small hand motion, and the SWATbots move forward to surround me. "If you'd be so kind as to follow me, we can finish this in a timely manner. I have other appointments."

Behind me, a SWATbot nudges its blaster against my shoulder, prompting me to move forward. "Where are we going?" I ask. I find my lack of hesitation unusual but not altogether inexplicable, considering the gravity of the situation.

"In a moment," Snively says, "I think this will look quite familiar to you."

When we're through the door, the world becomes immediately darker. We're surrounded on all sides by industrial scaffolding, cold metal pipes and gray walls. The hallway before us seems to stretch into infinity. Our path is only dimly lit by florescent lamps above us while the rest of the complex lurks in shadow, alive with sinister electricity. Further ahead, I can see the hallway bloom into a yawning, cavernous pit of machinery. If Robotropolis is a monster, we are surely inside of its belly.

I shiver slightly, hugging myself to stay warm. It's freezing here. It doesn't help that I'm dressed only in a thin pair of cotton pants and a shirt -- the clothes I wore to bed on the night we were abducted. With bare feet, I step carefully on the chilly concrete floor to avoid as much contact as I can.

Unexpectedly, Snivley turns to his right and follows an adjacent hallway -- at the end of which is a heavy steel door with a keypad. A sign overhead says "LEVEL B." After Snively enters a multi-digit password, the door jets open with a grating, mechanical sneeze.

I'm not even through the entrance, and I can already see the long stretch of glass windows aligned to the left wall. It reminds me of a reptile exhibit. The first pen, labeled B5, is empty. But B4 is inhabited by no less than three Freedom Fighters.

I stop walking. "We're outside the cells," I realize aloud.

"Correct," says Snively.

The prisoners in B4 are asleep; it must still be nighttime. "I thought these walls were just mirrors..."

"They are. We've designed them as two-way mirrors, not unlike those you'd find in an aquarium. Hence, we can see in, but you can't see out. They've also been manufactured using a compound derived from Robotnik's Diamond Glass formula, which renders them thoroughly shatter-proof. These cells took months to design and even longer to construct. They are absolutely flawless."

I can't speak. But even if I could, there are no words to articulate what I'm feeling now. They had been planning this for years -- everything from the conception and implementation of this new prison block to the manner in which we've been handled. This entire course of events has been an elaborate, psychological experiment.

"How many levels are there?" I manage to ask.

"Five. And with five cells on each level, that makes for a total of twenty five cells in this building alone. Multiply that number by an average of four prisoners per cell, and we could conceivably contain one hundred of you little Freedom Furballs here. Although bear in mind that the complex we're currently constructing will have double that capacity."

My stomach drops. "You're building more...?"

Snively smiles darkly. "All in due time. But anyway! Moving on. You've no doubt noticed that we're currently on your cell level. B3 is just ahead. I think you'd be most interested, though, in the goings on within your neighbor's cell, B2."

Colin's cell. My blood runs cold. "What have you done with him?"

Snively laughs. "Oh, nothing, nothing at all. In fact, he's demonstrated recently that he's quite... ahem. Shall we say, a physically healthy specimen."

As we approach cell B2, however, it's plainly obvious that nobody's inside. "Where are they?" I demand. "They weren't on your fucking torture list. If you've hurt Colin in any way, I swear to god I'll kill you myself."

"Oh please. Do you realize how many times I've heard that line? In any case, it appears that we have to go upstairs for a decent view. Follow me."

Just past the unoccupied B1, we climb a simple metal staircase to access the catwalk that overlooks the cell lineup. Looking down, we can see into the cells through the two-way mirror in the ceiling. "This is where the real cameras are positioned," Snively says, pointing to a cluster of security devices that have been fixed above us. "The cameras inside the cells are for cosmetic purposes only. A psychological stimulant, if you will. They're not even functional."

But I'm not paying attention to him anymore. The world around me has turned silent and cold. Through the glass below me, I can see that Colin and Lisa have fallen asleep together in the shower. They are naked and their clothes are scattering the bathroom floor. Lisa is wrapped snugly on top of him -- arms around his torso, head on his chest, moving subtly up and down with each breath. Colin's arms are draped carefully around her waist. Even in their state of induced slumber, they appear very satisfied. They're a cute couple. No, really. I should have known something was going on between them. How could I not see it coming, right? How could not admit to myself that my best friend and lover of five years would rather be with someone else? How dare I turn a blind eye and pretend that he's faithful, that he still cares about our relationship.

I even thought he loved me. Imagine that. I guess I was asking for it. If you fall deeply enough for someone, you're bound to be disappointed. I'm such a fool. He doesn't love me -- nobody does. I'm stupid for ever thinking otherwise.

I'm clutching the catwalk railing, convulsing with each violent sob. I've been crying for quite some time. Snively and the SWATbots wait patiently to the right and left of me and remain silent. Minutes pass... maybe hours, I don't know. It feels like an eternity. "You should get some rest," Snivley finally says. I don't remember anything after that.

My eyes are puffy. It's obvious that I've been crying in my sleep. I'm laying face down in my top bunk with a pillow in my arms, struggling to keep myself together. I clench my teeth and try to swallow the tight feeling in my throat, but I just end up exhaling a frustrated, stuttered sigh. My eyes are burning again. I close them and bury my face into my pillow.

I can hear Sean, Kyle and Rex playing cards below, so I guess that means I'm the last person in the cell to wake up this morning. Or is it already afternoon? I don't care. Nobody has spoken to me since I returned last night, not even Sean. It's like they're pretending that nothing is wrong. Not one of them has asked me if I'm okay or if I'm hungry or if I need anything. For god's sake, I came back from the torture chamber, and they haven't said a word of comfort to me. They haven't even mentioned what happened between Colin and Lisa next door, which would be bad enough, but this is even worse. I'm invisible right now.

I'm facing away from Colin's cell. I can't look at him. If he's happy with Lisa then fine, he can have her. I don't need him anyway. They fucked each other as soon as they thought I wouldn't know, so that says an awful lot about how important I was to Colin. I wonder how long they wanted it. By the time I disappeared from my cell, they were probably so hot for each other they were ready to explode. Maybe they did it more than once. Maybe they started into it as soon as they woke up and saw that I was gone. I'll bet they started on the bed, since that's the most obvious, and then moved to the floor where they could watch each other in the mirrors. And then the shower, oh god yes, humping against the walls of their own little private sex booth. I hope they enjoyed it, too, because it'll be the last thing they ever enjoy.

These so-called friends, this pathetic alliance, this ridiculous war -- I'm so tired of this shit. If I can't earn their respect, then maybe I should stop trying altogether.