This is crazy and rash as if I will tell them that my family, my own blood was with me in this mess that I have brought upon myself.
"Now you better tell me the truth, because you know what will happen to you if you lie to us and especially me" this was one of the Bangalian soldiers, he is a tall, muscular, black man with a big Afro with a black comb that seemed to never leave his hair.
I was strapped on a small wooded table, bending over as my bare back was exposed to him. I was in a room five times the size of my cell, the name of this room is the "torture chamber" all around this room was ways you torture the innocents and wrongdoers.
But no one has ever seen it because they always blindfold you before you go in, while our eyes are shut our other four senses start working more which then causes the fear to develop really quickly. If you defy the government this is where you will end up until you give in, something that I wasn't planning to do.
I have been in prison for nearly two months and not once have I met my family, I'm so pleased, not because I don't want to see them, but because they listened to me. "Who helped you steal the governments papers? You couldn't have done this all by yourself, especially not climbed the gate, you must have had help from someone either from inside or outside, now tell," those papers that I stole were papers that told what the government had in plans for us, the citizens of Bangali, so that we would be ready for anything that they throw at us.
I must have taken a long time to answer his question because he whipped my back, I heard the cane whooshing through the air and landed with a thud on my back repeatedly. I buried my head into my chest, gritted my teeth and concentrated on not breaking down. Four, five, six, seven- they kept coming thick and fast.
At first the pain wasn't too much and I could feel where he was hitting me. The blows were raining down on my body, from my shoulder blades to the calves, then back up again. But with each blow, the skin softened and the pain grew and grew to the point that my whole back felt like it was on fire. Soon it was unbearable, but they kept coming, mostly on my left shoulder.
I had to summon up all my control not to move. I didn't realise the human body could generate and tolerate such pain. I had never felt anything like it before, and I hope I will never feel anything like it again. At about twenty I lost count because I was in to much pain, but the soldier was counting each stroke out loud in Bangalian.
I had to grit my teeth even more and screwed up my eyes. I was determined not to make a sound and to lie perfectly still. Only one of us was leaving this room with their dignity intact-me. After a while I had no idea where he was hitting, even though my skin was getting torn. The last ten strokes were agony, bloody agony. I thought I was going to pass out. Then jut as quickly as it started, it was over. It only lasted Thirty to fourty seconds which felt like a life time. "More or you will talk?" I couldn't even speak, I was trying to catch my breath. Just as I heard the sound of the cane swoosh up I scream.
"I will talk"
YOU ARE READING
A journey to peace
Historical FictionI must have taken a long time to answer his question because he whipped my back, I heard the cane whooshing through the air and land with a thud on my back repeatedly. I buried my head into my chest, gritted my teeth and concentrated on not breaking...