Divided.

Divided. (Part 16) The Farm

"Hasn't it worn thin yet?" he moaned in pain. "It's been over 20 years," or at least that's what he'd calculated within his prison walls. Daylight was inexistent so it really was on only estimation when he scratched with chalk the number of days he'd been imprisoned on the wall. He should be dead by now, this amount of time locked up and held like a treacherous animal but he wasn't, he was fighting fit because the government wanted him well ... they needed him; they wanted him in good health and they kept on day in day out fuelling him with food and water.

"Don't you see?" He asked his torturer when he stopped pulling at the cogs that drove the torture table ropes. "You've seen me suffer pain far worse and yet you continue to torment me to no gain," he had to take stop talking when the ropes attached to both of his arms and legs tightened and his muscles went in to agonizing spasms, "When will you let me die?" he spat in excruciating pain. The pain was horrific, hell it was horrific but he'd experienced much worse in his time; pain was awareness that he was still alive.

"They'll never let you die sir" the man with power over the torture apparatus laughed, "Be done with it now or spend eternity on my table." He had a voice so low and deep it echoed off of the walls and disturbed the scientist. His head was covered with a black bag but the scientist was certain he had holes in the black material that allowed him to see what he was doing. The light was very dim and the pain made it ever the more difficult to focus on anything but he was sure that his torturer could see what he was doing and he was sure he still had his eyes in place.

This man was a government worker and not a slave of the law. This man didn't have dark haunting holes in his face where his eyes used to be. This man enjoyed inflicting pain. This man was not going to stop until he had the information he sought after. This mad man had tortured the scientist for over 20 years.

They were in a room behind one of the doors underground, Jimmy could hear the agonizing screams of the scientist through the walls. He pushed his hands over his ears but it did nothing to drown out the horror.

"Don't tell them, don't tell them, don't tell them, don't tell them, don't tell them," he whispered mindlessly to himself over and over and over again as he rocked back and forth on the cold floor. He knew the scientist well; not too look at, but because of their companionship because of the small hole between the crumbling bricks in the wall. Jimmy wasn't always held underground; they moved him around an awful lot but when he was there, in the farm he could rest assure that the scientist would be there on the other side of his cell wall, stronger than ever.

"Don't be afraid little one" the scientist had told him, "In death there'll be peace and each day brings you closer to death." Jimmy had taken his word of advice gravely, he believed in the scientists stories of heaven and tried everything he could to entice death.

You don't refuse a command from an advanced and the advanced children responsible for Jimmy took great delight in force feeding Jimmy rotten fish and dog food for disobeying their 'gracious offer' of good food.

Starving himself wasn't going to work. They wanted him alive and for him to live in hell but each time he found himself back in his cell next to the scientist he let his mind wander off to a better place and he lapped up the confidence he heard in the scientist's wisdom.

Heaven, another world; this is what Jimmy lived for and this is what he hoped to die for.