The Darker Side of Me

Unsaid Words

I stand facing Commander Teague, bound to a chair by his wrists and ankles in preparation for my visit. We stood there for a time, neither wanting to open the conversation. He finally speaks.

"I wondered when you would come."

"I wondered the same thing."

Bitterness swells within me, and the monster rears. He's just sitting there, completely at my mercy. I could destroy him. Make him suffer everything I did and more, punish him for all the times he raised his hand against me, the embarrassing visits he'd paid in the penitentiary and the rehabilitation center. My feet carry me forward, my fingers curling into claws. First, I will rake his face and with the same motion knock the chair over and then-

His expression of resigned dread and fear stops me in my tracks. It mirrors how he looked months ago when I almost destroyed him but didn't why didn't I destroy him- it was those words he said. What words did he say?

'Now I know.'

That is all I ever wanted. I press my fingers to my temples, ignoring the crescent arcs of pain left by my fingernails. A single sob escapes as I rub my skull. My vision clears.

"They should have bound me instead." I don't even realize I've said the words until he responds.

"Perhaps they were hoping you'd kill me and take a problem off their hands," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm useless now that the president has declared disinterest in negotiations. She considers me a failure," he finishes bitterly. He looks on at my continued inner battle with something almost resembling concern. His expression softens, as if for once he is thinking about someone other than himself or his underlings.

"I never wanted this for you," he says quietly. I look at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"Then why did you send me there?" I ask hopelessly.

"You gave me no choice!" comes the sudden outburst. "No one else knew you before, and you were so convincing that they would not have believed me! I couldn't appear a fool." He sighs, calming down almost inhumanly fast. "I wish you'd taken my offer."

"Sometimes, so do I." 

Then I wouldn't have to war with myself every day, to pick up the pieces until I even appeared sane. Hatred rises again.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" I finally roar. "Every day I have to fight back the monsters inside of me. EVERY SINGLE DAY!!! Even now, I'm struggling not to tear you apart."

The tears flow freely now as I stand, breathing hard, fists clenched in a desperate bid to hold onto reality. I force myself to think of Michael out in the hall. He must be worried.

"Maybe you should," he says so quietly that I can hardly hear him. "I'd rather die at your hands, however brutally, than to whatever the rebellion has planned for me; the man who destroyed over half of your people."

My emotions fade, every one of them replaced by a deep confusion.

"We don't do executions," I say slowly.

"Then it is to be torture," he says resignedly.

"We don't do that either. We don't do any of that!"

"Then you don't place your enemies in..." his voice fades, unwilling to continue.

"An electric chair, slowly increasing the charge until the prisoner dies in excruciating agony?" I finish. "I've heard the rumors. No. We do not."

"Odd that I trust you more than the people that trained me," the commander says. "If what you say is true... then I suppose the lies they told me continue to build."

"I suppose." Silence reigns.

"The government doesn't rip children from their homes or force them to join the army," he confides. "Everything is volunteer based."

"I guess we've both been lied to," I murmur.

"Maybe," he says quietly, "there is no longer any such thing as good and evil."

I slam my fist into the wall, causing Teague to startle and tilt too far back in his chair. It tips to the thinly carpeted floor. He makes no sound but a slight gasp as he falls.

"There is such a thing," I snap. "They battle in my head every day." My voice breaks. Silently, I cross to the man on the floor. I try to return the seat to its former position, but I have no strength left. I untie the rope, not even caring if he tries to hurt me. He picks up the chair himself and sits back down. When I go to retie his legs, he makes no protest. As I begin to wrap the rope around one wrist, he touches my arm lightly. Angrily, I jerk my eyes to his face. He seems sad. I hesitate, then sit at the foot of his cot, facing him. The rope slithers from my fingers and lands softly on the floor.

"There is a word I was taught never to say," the once-commander reflects. "It was thought to imply weakness and doubt, to shake the faith of my troops. I swore never to use it." He pauses. "The word was 'sorry.'"

For the first time in the visit, he looks directly into my eyes.

"Jenna... I am sorry for what I let them do to you."

I nod slowly. Rising, I cross to the door. I look back just before I exit.

"I never learned your first name. Will you tell me?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm not sure," I admit. I begin to key the code in.

"Joshua," he says. "It was Joshua."

I turned, astounded. "Your parents named you after a character in one of the forbidden Books?"

"They were free thinkers. Like you. Doctors. They thought I was too young to understand, but I watched them mix up a poison disguised as a vaccine and administer it to all of their patients, soldiers and citizens alike. Even children.

"They tried to blame it on faulty ingredients, and as they had faithfully served the army for years, they were believed. But I knew what they had done, and I couldn't let them cover up their crimes. That's when I decided the Rebellion needed to be stopped. I turned them in and signed up for the Young Soldier's Association. I was seven."

"I think I understand now," I say, deeply saddened. "But that doesn't make everything right."

By now I have entered the code and exited. The door is swinging shut, so I cannot fully make out his response, but I think I hear him whisper, "I know."