The Darker Side of Me

Punishment

When I wake up, I'm filled with a dangerous fire aching to burn something. Just sitting here is driving me mad. Well, madder than I already am. The fire flares. I can't take it any more. I've lost all reason, I can't sit here and wait to kill something later!

I launch myself at the night table, made from polished wood- a rarity. This will hurt the commander. Not enough, but it will hurt him. I throw it against the metal walls. I jump on it, tear into it with my bare hands until it is nothing more than splinters and nails. I pant heavily and grin at the sight.

"Come out and face me, Commander!" I screech. "Come out! Or are you a coward?! Are you scared of me?! COME OUT AND LET ME KILL YOU!!!"

I've insulted his pride. He's sure to react now! I turn to the bed, intending to tear its covers to shreds. The door slams open. I laugh and swing around again to face the... the man who is definitely not the commander. This man is burly and bald. I think he is the second in command. Teague must think I'm under enough limitations to feel safe leaving me with one of his precious followers.

He would be desperately mistaken.

I easily overcome my shock, resorting to my favorite method of attack- angering the victim. "Oooooh," I taunt. "Ooh, did I scare him? Did he leave? He's a pathetic leader, if he doesn't mind you being killed by me. Did he leave you here to die?"

The man's face contorts with rage at the implication. "Commander Teague is a brave man! The best commander anyone could ask for!" He rushes at me, prepared to defend his commander to the end. Sycophant.

I take the opportunity, grabbing the sharpest nail and making a break for it. He pivots with astounding speed for a man of his stature, then picks me up by the back of my collar, twisting it and nearly choking me in the process. I kick and scream and try to twist around and shove the nail into his eye, but I'm too late. He rips my weapon out of my grasp and holds me far enough away that I can't reach him with my desperate kicks towards his groin. He throws me into the bathroom so hard that my nose slams into the wall and breaks, blood gushing everywhere. I leap to my feet and run to the door ignoring the pain, but he's already locked me in. The door is metal, there's no way I can break through it. So I take my shoe off and slam it into the nearby window, but it doesn't shatter. I scream in anger.

"AAAAAAAAGH!!!! STUPID BULLETPROOF WINDOW!!!! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SUB-COMMANDER!!!!! LET ME OUT!!!! LET ME OUT SO I CAN KILL SOMETHING!!!!!!!"

I kick the toilets, the sanitation chambers used to clean hands. I leap for the shower heads and try to rip them out of the wall with my weight. One falls down, me still clinging to it, and lands squarely on my stomach. I grunt, then throw it off of me and try to widen the hole in the metal paneling. I can't bend the walls, though. I can't do anything at all. My helplessness makes me even angrier.

The door flies open again, but I don't run past the sub-commander this time. He's expecting that. Even in a blind rage, I can be smart. So now I dive low, yank the hidden knife out of Walker's boot, and stab it through his heart.

Well. It should have gone through his heart. But the soldier's wearing some kind of chestplate under his uniform, and the knife glances off. I spin with it, thrown off balance from my powerful thrust. I trip over my shoeless foot and fall

This time, he grabs me by the neck. I'm choking as he lifts me off the ground.

"You are a nuisance," he says calmly, anger etched into every word. He throws me back into the commander's room and locks me in. He's removed every piece of furniture; it's now bare stone. It feels bigger than before, but it isn't nearly as hospitable. I finger the bruises he's left around my neck, fighting for breath.

He's made a grave error. I hated him before. Now I despise him. And I will make this as hard for him as I can manage.

_______________________________________________________

I spend most of my days making my nose keep bleeding and marveling at the redness that coats my hands. Sometimes the blood loss renders me unconscious. Inevitably, when I wake back up anger consumes me. I run blindly into the walls, pound at the door, and try to kill Sub-Commander Walker every time I see him.

In retaliation, he has withheld food and water and beat me severely. He's used his version of the Sound, a single piercing screech. His punishments hardly affect me. I've almost killed him three more times. He no longer brings a knife when he drags me to the toilet and watches me do my business before hauling me back to the room. My days and nights drag on interminably. I pound at the door, yelling and screaming, trying to break free of this room. It's too small. Too much like the reformation center and its hellish padded cells.

Finally, my body can't take it any more. I slump exhausted to the floor and curl up on the bare, chilly stone. There is no warmth in the room. I hope the cold kills me.

I sleep on and off for the rest of my punishment.

On the day the party returns from the mission, I wake up to find that Walker has restored the room to its former state while I was passed out. I grab a nearby blanket like a lifeline and drape it around my shoulders. I have no inclination to destroy the commander's things now, as he can punish me more severely than Walker ever could. I can hear him in the next room.

"She did what?" I can just hear him say. I tremble involuntarily at the cold fury in his words. I should have considered my actions. Of course the sub-commander would report back, and of course Teague would be angry at the destruction I have caused. It's not his own table he's worried about- no, he wouldn't be upset about that. He would be mad that I tried to kill his underling again, and madder that I nearly succeeded.

Just as expected, Commander Teague strides quickly into his quarters and directly to my spot on the floor. His anger shrouds him like a storm cloud. I scoot away from him until my back hits the wall. I have nowhere left to go. His shiny black boots march closer. I draw my knees to my chest and duck my head, trying to protect myself as much as possible, trying to prepare... He yanks my head up by the hair and punches me squarely in the jaw. As pain lights up like fireworks, I open my mouth to try to laugh and retain some dignity, but I'm too late and he's already twisted his hand.

Pain. Screeching. Anger blood death harm pain SCREECHING! And it's me, it's me, I'm the screeching and my screams are merging with the Sound inside my head. I beat myself around the head trying to flush the Sound out of me, knowing full well that the effort is futile. I jump to my feet and run into the opposite wall at full speed, bouncing off and landing flat on my back. My vision starts to fade in and out. Surely he will stop it now. He never lets it go for too long, he doesn't want to damage me permanently... But it goes on and on and even though I've been getting better at coping, even though I deluded myself into thinking I could take it this time this time for sure! no it hurts I can't I-

Mercifully, I fall unconscious.