Hell Bound

Thirty-Three

My breathing halted. Choked off by something in my throat. Water. I could feel it in my nose, leaking into my lungs, and burning. It was icy against my skin as I struggled to escape it. Strong fingers were in my hair, forcing my head still as I thrashed and fought. I heard a voice speaking from far off.

"Enough," they said. The hand yanked me back out by my hair.

I choked and sputtered above the basin of blood-tinged water. I coughed and spit it back up as I tried to remember how to breathe again. My hands were cuffed behind my back. My shoulder felt like it was being ripped apart, and the blood was dripping from my own wounds. The pain was almost unbearable. But I couldn't focus on anything other than the water. I just couldn't go back into the water.

A figure stepped before me. His boots were the first thing I saw on the other side of the basin. My eyes regained focus, and I looked up at the shadowy figure. The only light was coming from directly behind him, disfiguring his features. I couldn't see much else of the room. Just cinder block walls and a matching concrete floor.

"The man," he said. "Your captain. You can start by telling me his name."

"Russell," I told him, still wheezing from the water in my throat. "Daryl Russell."

"His real name."

"That's the only name I know."

"When we questioned you before, it was evident that you knew more than you were telling. I can see that you're loyal to your captain, and loyalty is a trait we find honorable. But your captain is not as loyal to you as you are to him. His team has been causing us trouble, killing our men, for years. And yet you still have no idea who we are. Are you so loyal that you'll kill blindly for a man who keeps secrets from you?"

"Considering how you treat your prisoners, I can't say I regret it," I snapped. The man behind me gripped my hair again and yanked me back. I gasped sharply from the pain but held my tongue.

"I sent my soldier on a task. If he could not bring back the captain himself, I wanted someone else. Not just a soldier. Someone close to the captain. Someone he trusts. Cares for. My soldier chose you. Why?"

"Well. I'm obviously the prettiest member of my unit." He forced a laugh.

"You are indeed." He moved his hands around his back and began to pace along the length of the basin. It was long enough to be used like a feeding trough. Like I was nothing more than an animal. I could make out the features of his profile when the light caught him just the right way, but I still couldn't recognize him.

"That's why it will be such a shame to drown you. It's my least favorite way to kill someone, you know? It makes such a mess. Bodies become," he motioned toward his face, "bloated. Ugly. We could always cut you open again. But—you fainted so quickly last time. Like a poor little butterfly who got a taste of real war."

I gritted my teeth and struggled to be free again. But with my hands behind my back, I could barely move. I was sitting on my knees, and he was holding me up by my hair. All I could do was shift my feet. The man stopped again, and I could tell he was smiling.

"Easy, Soldier," he said to the one holding me. The grip on my hair loosened. I could rest on my legs again. "Perhaps not a butterfly," he continued. "Your captain does not collect butterflies. He collects killers." I struggled to move again, but fighting was useless, and I knew it. The person behind me still had my hair in his hand, and I couldn't move my head more than an inch in any direction. I knew it was hopeless to try, but I didn't want them to think they'd won.