World at War

Chapter 5

"Wake up... Come on, young woman. Wake up, I must speak with you.. WAKE UP!"

Moment of silence..

"She isn't waking up.."

"Sir, I got this."

My face swings to the side caused by a blow to my right cheek. My cheek burns from the sudden interference, and I open my eyes. As a reaction, I try to move my hand up to my stinging cheek, but it seems they are incapable of such instructions. No.. Not this again.. Opening my eyes wide, I look around me and find myself sitting in a chair. My hands are tied behind me with a chain connecting to the steel around my wrists to the chair. Even my ankles are bound together with a chain connecting to the legs of the chair.

"Do not hit a lady!" A yelp of pain is heard with a voice trembling.

"Y-yes sir! Will not happen again.."

"Darling, you are tied up as you see for yours and our safety." I glare at the man approaching me, hah only your safety..

"Now, I must speak with you." He speaks with much confidence. My face grows pale as I recognize this man.

He is a man of 22 years, this is a fact I know. He is responsible for starting this pathetic war, yet the English call him a hero. Yes, he did get captured by the French, but it was his own fault! He captured Joseph Coulon de Jumonville of the French, and soon later Joseph was killed still in the custody of this horrible man, George Washington. Joseph had a half brother, which seeked revenge, and captured George, forcing him to surrender and confess to the homicide. Soon, George was released and he took a strike to the French in fear of them striking first. That's what started the war. I hate him, he is the reason why many people are being brutally killed, and left for photosynthesis to take its stand.

 I glare at him, noticing the urge to strangle him. French and English speak different languages, though some French learned the speech of the English. I happened to be one of the few French to be capable to speak their language.. But this bastard don't need to know that, now does he? 

"My lady, are you a part of the French? Or a part of us?" He begins his questions.. 

"Tout d'abord, je ne suis pas votre dame.  Je ne pourrai jamais appartenir à personne, et surtout de ne jamais un tueur comme vous. Je ne suis pas du français, ni l' anglais." I look away, becoming bored of him already. (English: First, I am not your lady. I will never belong to anyone, especially never to a killer such as yourself. I don't belong to the French nor the English.)

"So, you speak the language of the French.. It's obvious you don't know what I am saying neither." He kneels down in front of me as I give him a disgusted look. He turns towards his partner in the back of the room. "You told me she speaks English!" 

"S-she does, sir!" His face lessens in color. "She is faking!" 

He stands back up, staring at me for a moment then walking over to a door.

"Let's leave her alone" He calls over to the other man standing next to me. George pushes the door open and walks out, the other following.

I stare at my ankles, wishing that I was strong enough to just snap these chains and torture George Washington. How could someone be cruel enough to start a random war, then sit back and watch many die. I sigh and raise my head and allow my surroundings to set in my mind. I seem to be in the farthest corner from the door, and a large table appears to be next to the door. Dead trees, or they would call it paper, lays neatly stacked in the center of the table and a wooden cup with feathers pointing out sits to the left corner of the table.