1984: Ulterior Motives

Rating: PG-13
Trigger Warning: Torture, Gore
Written by sacrificed-in-chess

I couldn't see anything anymore.

The world around me was a dark chasm, leaving me in the unforgiving cold. The rats had taken their share and left me heaving on the floor to die. Tears continued to leak from the pits of my eyes, mixing in with the blood and vomit encircling my torn skin. "Was this worth it, Winston?" O'Brien finally spoke, after sitting silently through my pained screams and agonizing wails. This was what he had to say, after ripping away the last of my humanity? "Was she worth it, Winston?" He hissed at the abstinence of my reply. My stomach lurched, acid streaming from the cracks of my mouth as I continued to convulse. That seemed to be the wrong answer.

O'Brien stepped over the feeding rats and near my tortured body, glaring down at me like he was punishing a disobedient child. I couldn't see him, but I could feel the burn of his gaze upon my skin like the first time I awoke in the Ministry of Love. It was incredulous. His foot came down hard into my torso, sending blood out of the rips and tears of my corpse. Looking back, the pain was no worse than what I'd already bared, but what really made this action take a toll was the fact that he continued to make a mess of me, as if there was something else he could get out of it. He had failed his job, and I was the one to blame.

I'm the crack in the bottle, and he's about to burst.

"Hm," he grumbled, circling his mouth to contain the spot he wanted to toss at me, "This, is what the last of humanity looks like." His hand groped at the collar of my ragged shirt, gripping it tightly into his palm and drawing me near to his face. With a foul voice, he laughed, "This! Is the last remaining bit of the spirit of man! Can you not see it, Winston?" He mocked what he had done to me. I couldn't help but admire his stubborn persistence. There was nothing left I had to offer, yet he continued to play with me, "Your fate was foretold seven years ago. Thus the fate of humanity even after. What are you still holding to?" The escalation in his voice predicted an outburst of violent reactions, but O'Brien never played the predictable. His breath pressed close as he made his claim, "Nothing."

I was thrust upon the ground as he reclaimed his demeanor. My lips didn't move. My tongue didn't flicker. There was no need. He knew everything I had to say, "You do this just to spite me. But, fair Winston, there is nothing to spite. There is only Big Brother, the love of Big Brother, and the Party of Big Brother. There is no you. There is no I. There is only we, in our eternal endeavor." I could feel his weight shift as he moved towards my torso. A rat hissed against my empty stomach, jumping forward at my captor. A scream broke through the solid air, spraying the floor with a warm liquid as his boot crushed the writhing vermin, "That is all you are."

I thought about what I had done. What had I done? My small acts of rebellion only provoked an intolerable thought. They had never changed anything. O'Brien was right, about everything he preached. He read what was left on my face, a knowingness filling the link between both our brains. I waited in silence until I heard the click of a safety lock, causing me to sharply inhale the breath I was trying to conserve. The next thing I know, a gun was at my head.

"What is two plus two?"

"Five."

The barrel pressed farther into my head.

"Who is Oceania at war with?"

"Eastasia."

An unseen smile.

"And who do you love?"

This was my final chance. I could change my fate. O'Brien was finally reaching out to me. I can feel his hand so close to my heart. So why must I continue on this silence? Julia's hand wasn't there anymore.

"I love Big Brother."

This was it. The longed-hoped-for-bullet was finally going to enter my brain. O'Brien put pressure against the trigger, leaning in close to whisper in my ear,

"What a pitiful lie."