Unseen | Ghost x Soap

Chapter 5: Desperation

The hours dragged on, each one more excruciating than the last. My mind raced with fear and anxiety, the pain in my shoulder a constant reminder of my situation. I tried to stay calm, to focus on the thought of rescue, but it was getting harder with every passing
minute.

The door creaked open, and the terrorist entered the room, followed by two burly guards. They dragged a metal cart behind them, its contents clinking ominously.
"Ready to talk?" the terrorist asked, his voice cold and detached.

I glared at him, refusing to show any sign of weakness. He smirked, nodding to the guards. They moved quickly, yanking me to my feet and securing me to a metal chair in the center of the room. My hands were strapped to the armrests, my legs bound to the chair's legs. I was completely immobilized.

The terrorist stepped closer, his eyes boring into mine. "You know, Soap, l've always admired your resilience. But everyone has a breaking point."

He nodded again, and one of the guards picked up a metal rod from the cart, its tip glowing red from the heat.

My heart pounded in my chest as the guard approached, the rod inches from my face.
"Last chance," the terrorist said. "Tell me what I want to know."

I spat at him, my rage and defiance boiling over. "Go to hell."

His expression darkened, and he gave the guard a curt nod. The rod pressed against my thigh, searing my flesh. I screamed, the pain blinding and overwhelming. The smell of burning flesh filled the room, mingling with my cries.

The torture continued, each session more brutal than the last. They used everything at their disposal- electrocution, waterboarding, beatings.
Each time, they demanded information about our operations, our team, our plans. Each time, I refused to give them anything.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days. The lines between them blurred as my body and mind were pushed to their limits. I could feel myself breaking, the pain and fear gnawing at my sanity. I tried to hold on to thoughts of Ghost and the team, of the mission, but it was getting harder.

One particularly brutal session left me barely conscious, my body a mass of bruises and burns. I lay on the cold floor of my cell, my mind drifting in and out of darkness. The door opened, and the terrorist stepped in, his expression one of grim satisfaction.

"You're stronger than I thought," he said, almost admiringly. "But even the strongest can be broken."

He crouched beside me, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Your friends won't come for you, Soap. They think you're dead. You're alone."

His words cut through me like a knife, the last vestiges of hope slipping away.
I tried to hold on, but the despair was overwhelming, suffocating. I had always believed in the mission, in the cause.

But now, all I felt was a crushing sense of hopelessness.

He stood and left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. I lay there in the darkness, my body trembling with pain and fear. I felt something inside me break, a deep, fundamental part of my soul that had always believed in the fight.

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the blood and sweat. I was lost, broken, and alone. The thought of rescue seemed like a distant dream, a fantasy that had no place in my grim reality. I had lost hope.